There are two ladies I every morning at 9 am when I go in to get my boob radiated. Sandy and Anne. These are not their real names by the way... they know I blog about them but who knows who is out there on Facebook land. The are both 53 and started about one week after I did in treatment. I give them boob updates and we chat, drink lots of water and flash each other to see how we are doing.
Sandy (not her real name) is very proud of her "girls." She is always super calm and then she told me that whenever she has a really bad morning she has a valium. Her doctor gave it to her when her incision split open during chemotherapy. That was in May. That was also when the doctor told her that she had "black woman's cancer." The doctor explained that many black women get a very aggressive form of cancer. And that's what she was dealt this hand.
Sandy took it in stride. She had cancer in 3 spots on her boob, she elected to have them take the offending tissue and tumor out and then reduce her other girl (she was a double D) at the same time. She also asked them to give her a lift.
Sandy likes to show her "girls" to us. I have to say, they are very good looking boobs. Her scar is angry and still not what it should be, but the girls are proud and high on her chest. One of them is getting very pink, which in Sandy's words is more a regal purple. She also likes to hug a lot, which makes me smile every morning.
Anne is self professed hippie. She wears socks with her sandals and we have long conversation about how to mix western medicine and alternative. She is married with two kids and her doctor told her not to worry about her lump three years ago. She also elected not to do chemo, barely said yes to radiation and probably won't take tamoxifen. She says she doesn't want everything to change now.
On Tuesdays, the OR brings their more advanced patients down the to nuclear basement. That's the day they bring the people with cancer that is too advanced for an operation. Kathleen, the woman I talked about before, is one of those people now. She had a double dose of chemo and radiation every day for 5 weeks. Now, they have to insert tubes into her cervix and shoot little pellets of radiation at the tumor to shrink it. It works. It's fucking painful and everyone I see on those gurney's looks scared and very drugged out. Surprisingly, the survival rate for this treatment is getting higher and higher. And for two days a week, for 3 weeks, that is Kathleen and probably thousands of other peoples normal.
And that's something that no one really explains to you when you get cancer. You will be chasing normal for a long time. Everything changes. For me, there were a lot of really positive changes in all departments of my life. I was actually really depressed before being diagnosed because I like to grip on hard to things when I don't want them to change. I also used to ignore the things in life I didn't want to see. In life, in other people and worse, in myself. It's not how I can live my life anymore. You can't ignore cancer and survive. You can't be victim and be a warrior. So I had to change.
My temporary normal is radiation. And here ere is the thing about radiation... no one can tell you how your skin will react. Last night, the boob was on fire. I'm lucky because I only have little blisters right now, and they are staying little so far. I have steroid creams for the itching, and naproxin for the pain and vitamin D ointment for at night. I won't go into any other detail but I will say this... my nipple is PISSED!
4 more days and then apparently, there is a week where it heats up and it gets much worse. Then, it starts to heal. I have no idea what that means and no one can really tell you. You just have to wait it out, armed with nipple pads, more creams and if you need it, something stronger than naproxin.
And I am a lucky girl. Every morning I see women and men being wheeled down from the OR to get treatment. The other day, there was a young girl about 19 in the waiting room wearing her open from pants. I , being me, left the lounge and then just broke down and cried. I can't complain anymore when I see something like that. I can't imagine being a teenager or a child having to go through this, or much worse that I see around me. And there she sat, being very brave on her first day, reading Elle with her Mom sitting next to her. Every morning I'm reminded how how amazing we humans are. I get a dose of humanity and that changes you. It counteracts anything my boob is going through.
So every morning, five days a week, when I want to curse the world for having sensitive boobs, I stop. Because my normal is pretty okay in the scheme of things here in the nuclear basement. And no matter what happens in the future, I have had an amazing dance for 51 years on this planet and have been loved and had the privilege to love some amazing people. I have nothing to complain about. And if that isn't lucky, then I don't know what is.
Robyn does her favorite thing... babble.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Big day at the races... does that machine have to look that weird?
My last blog was bullshit. No, not the one you read, the one I wrote last night. That one was my in my peaceful place. It was accurate at the time, but right now I am neither calm nor peaceful. It's my coping mechanism of "fearful wonder."
Yes, fearful wonder. Here's the thing: that friggin' radiation machine is scary looking. Yes, there are stars on the ceiling of the radiation room and little unicorn stickers on the rim that you can't help but stare at. There is also a glitter sticker that spells "bionic boob team."
And there is a bionic boom team. It takes a village to zap you with radiation. I have 8 people, making sure that beam goes to the boob and not my heart or lungs or chest wall which of course are very close to my left boob.
The entire left boob. I was hoping to get off with a smaller zap but no, I am once again in that gray area... this time, it's my age. In cancer years, I'm young. 51. Not scary young, like the poor people in the their thirties. Just because of age, they are 10 times more likely to have cancer reoccur and they have no choice.. they get the semi-automatic guns.
Like Chemo... for me, survey said no to Chemo. Because there is no cancer in my body now as far as anyone can tell, there was literally no scientific proof that chemo would help me in any way. My blood is perfect, my organs and lymph nodes clear...
Chemo would be a huge gun that may or may not hit the target but would hit everything else in my body.
Including my bone marrow and my sweet papa died from complication of a blood disease so... after hours with Dr. Rugo and understanding each treatment on the molecular level and weeks studying statistics and understanding everything I possibly could... ... I made the choice.
Radiation is not really optional though, because you actually slightly increase your chances of cancer spread just by having surgery. So you must zap the area and get any pre-cancerous cells or any cancer left behind. And when your in the 50's age range, that means the whole boob. Damn!
The day they tattooed me for all this, I was sort of fascinated and put at ease because of this team I had. At one point I fantasized about my boob having super powers after treatment (hey, it worked for Spiderrman.) I stared at the shadow of my incredibly cold boob on the wall of the xray machine with a laser beam across it and thought what a great shot it would be for this screenplay I'm writing about Vegas.
That was last week. Today... with that same cold boob I'm staring up at the real machine and wondering what it's going to feel like and what do I do? I start to cry. Not hard cry, the tear streaming kind. I'm about as stoic as a five year old. And nowadays, I am who I am. So Mark (one of my team) asks me if I'm okay and I say... "Yeah, this is just all kinds of weird. Space age weird." And then I to laugh. And that's when I knew that I'm totally going to be fine.
So tomorrow, with my 8 little tattoos on my boob, I will lie under that weird looking machine and think about all the things I'm going to do with my bionic boob when this is done. I'm going to stare at the little unicorns and think of all the women who have been on this machine before me and all the ones who will follow.
And I'll think about how my fine now is not at all what it used to be even a year ago. And I'll think about all the unseen tattoos I have from people and things that have come and gone from my life and even some that remain... wonder which ones will blow back to me and which ones were just meant to help me become the me I am now. And I will do that over and over again for 5 days a week for 5 weeks. And that's what my fine is today.
Yes, fearful wonder. Here's the thing: that friggin' radiation machine is scary looking. Yes, there are stars on the ceiling of the radiation room and little unicorn stickers on the rim that you can't help but stare at. There is also a glitter sticker that spells "bionic boob team."
And there is a bionic boom team. It takes a village to zap you with radiation. I have 8 people, making sure that beam goes to the boob and not my heart or lungs or chest wall which of course are very close to my left boob.
The entire left boob. I was hoping to get off with a smaller zap but no, I am once again in that gray area... this time, it's my age. In cancer years, I'm young. 51. Not scary young, like the poor people in the their thirties. Just because of age, they are 10 times more likely to have cancer reoccur and they have no choice.. they get the semi-automatic guns.
Like Chemo... for me, survey said no to Chemo. Because there is no cancer in my body now as far as anyone can tell, there was literally no scientific proof that chemo would help me in any way. My blood is perfect, my organs and lymph nodes clear...
Chemo would be a huge gun that may or may not hit the target but would hit everything else in my body.
Including my bone marrow and my sweet papa died from complication of a blood disease so... after hours with Dr. Rugo and understanding each treatment on the molecular level and weeks studying statistics and understanding everything I possibly could... ... I made the choice.
Radiation is not really optional though, because you actually slightly increase your chances of cancer spread just by having surgery. So you must zap the area and get any pre-cancerous cells or any cancer left behind. And when your in the 50's age range, that means the whole boob. Damn!
The day they tattooed me for all this, I was sort of fascinated and put at ease because of this team I had. At one point I fantasized about my boob having super powers after treatment (hey, it worked for Spiderrman.) I stared at the shadow of my incredibly cold boob on the wall of the xray machine with a laser beam across it and thought what a great shot it would be for this screenplay I'm writing about Vegas.
That was last week. Today... with that same cold boob I'm staring up at the real machine and wondering what it's going to feel like and what do I do? I start to cry. Not hard cry, the tear streaming kind. I'm about as stoic as a five year old. And nowadays, I am who I am. So Mark (one of my team) asks me if I'm okay and I say... "Yeah, this is just all kinds of weird. Space age weird." And then I to laugh. And that's when I knew that I'm totally going to be fine.
So tomorrow, with my 8 little tattoos on my boob, I will lie under that weird looking machine and think about all the things I'm going to do with my bionic boob when this is done. I'm going to stare at the little unicorns and think of all the women who have been on this machine before me and all the ones who will follow.
And I'll think about how my fine now is not at all what it used to be even a year ago. And I'll think about all the unseen tattoos I have from people and things that have come and gone from my life and even some that remain... wonder which ones will blow back to me and which ones were just meant to help me become the me I am now. And I will do that over and over again for 5 days a week for 5 weeks. And that's what my fine is today.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Nasa has carpeting/Finale coming up for WHTSN
So... I'm still a week away from knowing what my treatments are. I was very much hoping that it would be clear what I would route we would be taking but because my new doctor is one of the top Breast Cancer Onocologists in the world, it turns out that my course is not that simple. Since I won't know what's up til next week, I wanted to take this opportunity to sing the praises of a series that in many ways changed my life, both personally and professionally. And it was all with the talent I was lucky enough to work with.
I have to start with Meredith Baxter. Come on!!! Cathy is responsible for bringing her to our series and how cool that? I would be lying if I didn't say that I was nervous the first day I met her. Yes, I'm a new director to web series but I've directed plays and short films since I graduated High School, so I'm not sure what happened the day she showed up for the reading but except... I grew up watching her in TV movies and I'm a HUGE socially awkward geek. So there you have it.
Anyway, Meredith was awesome. She brought her natural gift of comedic timing and an attitude of "try everything" to our set. She also has worked on some big sets, so she adjusted to our little production band of thieves very well. My favorite suprise about her is that she is a total smart ass, so we all got along very well indeed. So happy to have been able to share a set with her.
The list of guest stars is mind boggling to me, especially when I think of the day we had all 18 of them. Or 20. I am going to make a blog just with their names soon.... Thankfully, Jill and Cathy are talented directors in their own right (as you can see from their work throughout the series) because without them on the set that morning, I would have crashed and burned for sure. A stand out for me is Kate McKinnon... she blew us away and in fact, if you look really close, you can see Jill and I laughing in the reflection on the seat behind her. They will hate me for saying that, but now you can watch it over and over again to see what else you can pick up in those seats :)
Kate just took this little piece of dialogue and spun it into a character that could have her own show. Her level of commitment to an improvisational way of bringing the script alive is a director's dream. If you haven't watch "The Big Gay Sketch Show", you need to. Kate is going to be gracing our computer screens, TV screens and hopefully someday movie screens for many moons... thank god!
Three new actors that you have to keep an eye on are Mary Frances Careccia, Alexis Boozer and Sage Mears. All three of them were the last standing in the auditions for Dee Dee. They were all exceptional in their auditions and exceptional in their own ways. If you watch them in the series, you can see what each brings to their roles.
Mary Frances finally won out. She's a wonderful and committed actress and in the end, it's the chemistry between her and her co-stars that won her the part. One of the best ways to see how an audience will react (a chemistry all it's own) is to see what one actor brings out in the other. It's the part of chemistry that you can articulate. Watching her audition with Ann, with an added directory twist from Jill, it was clear that Mary Frances brought out a more vulnerable Cindy... something that I've been dying to bring the audience since Season One.
Alexis and Sage were sooooo good that we had to write them into the script. That is the biggest compliment that a production can give to an actor who doesn't get cast. I loved working with both of them... one of my favorite days on set. They are both so strong in their instincts and flexible... it's wonderful so see such young actors that have the ability to be nuanced and subtle in their emotional turns. I can't wait to see what else these talented ladies can do.
Mary Francis is ridiculously talented. There is simple depth to her performance on screen which belies the hours and intensity in which she pursues her performance off screen. I fear that I could never really give her all the time she yearned for... I tried but our set was very much like a low budget television show where you get two takes if you are lucky and move on fast. Sometimes I would push for 6 takes on one thing, which would cost on others. She adjusted and gave strong, nuanced performance that is always grounded in absolute truth. Mary Francis is going to tear it up people... just watch.
Last but not least, I need mention Shannon Allel Reeve. Shannon is one the most giving and hard-working people I have ever had the pleasure to share a set with. She has an amazing lack of ego and besides being a fantastic actress, I would not have made it through a few days on that Cruise without her. She is tireless with an amazing spirit and I'm so glad to see her getting so many parts. She is a force to be reckoned with.
I'm not going to comment right now on the finale because it's behind the scenes thoughts and if you read this, it will reverberate without you knowing it. All I can say is that I am proud that I was part of the series that brought some of the best work I've seen from Jill, Cathy and Ann. Especially because of their involvement in every other aspect of the series.... not easy to do folks. Check it out.
So... that is my pre-finale, pre-treatment rant of the week. Have a glorious weekend all! I am diving into a sea of hospital bills and financial aid web sites. Not complaining though... in all things, I remain a lucky and ridiculously grateful, at some point to be breast cancer survivor who finally knows how lucky she is.
I have to start with Meredith Baxter. Come on!!! Cathy is responsible for bringing her to our series and how cool that? I would be lying if I didn't say that I was nervous the first day I met her. Yes, I'm a new director to web series but I've directed plays and short films since I graduated High School, so I'm not sure what happened the day she showed up for the reading but except... I grew up watching her in TV movies and I'm a HUGE socially awkward geek. So there you have it.
Anyway, Meredith was awesome. She brought her natural gift of comedic timing and an attitude of "try everything" to our set. She also has worked on some big sets, so she adjusted to our little production band of thieves very well. My favorite suprise about her is that she is a total smart ass, so we all got along very well indeed. So happy to have been able to share a set with her.
The list of guest stars is mind boggling to me, especially when I think of the day we had all 18 of them. Or 20. I am going to make a blog just with their names soon.... Thankfully, Jill and Cathy are talented directors in their own right (as you can see from their work throughout the series) because without them on the set that morning, I would have crashed and burned for sure. A stand out for me is Kate McKinnon... she blew us away and in fact, if you look really close, you can see Jill and I laughing in the reflection on the seat behind her. They will hate me for saying that, but now you can watch it over and over again to see what else you can pick up in those seats :)
Kate just took this little piece of dialogue and spun it into a character that could have her own show. Her level of commitment to an improvisational way of bringing the script alive is a director's dream. If you haven't watch "The Big Gay Sketch Show", you need to. Kate is going to be gracing our computer screens, TV screens and hopefully someday movie screens for many moons... thank god!
Three new actors that you have to keep an eye on are Mary Frances Careccia, Alexis Boozer and Sage Mears. All three of them were the last standing in the auditions for Dee Dee. They were all exceptional in their auditions and exceptional in their own ways. If you watch them in the series, you can see what each brings to their roles.
Mary Frances finally won out. She's a wonderful and committed actress and in the end, it's the chemistry between her and her co-stars that won her the part. One of the best ways to see how an audience will react (a chemistry all it's own) is to see what one actor brings out in the other. It's the part of chemistry that you can articulate. Watching her audition with Ann, with an added directory twist from Jill, it was clear that Mary Frances brought out a more vulnerable Cindy... something that I've been dying to bring the audience since Season One.
Alexis and Sage were sooooo good that we had to write them into the script. That is the biggest compliment that a production can give to an actor who doesn't get cast. I loved working with both of them... one of my favorite days on set. They are both so strong in their instincts and flexible... it's wonderful so see such young actors that have the ability to be nuanced and subtle in their emotional turns. I can't wait to see what else these talented ladies can do.
Mary Francis is ridiculously talented. There is simple depth to her performance on screen which belies the hours and intensity in which she pursues her performance off screen. I fear that I could never really give her all the time she yearned for... I tried but our set was very much like a low budget television show where you get two takes if you are lucky and move on fast. Sometimes I would push for 6 takes on one thing, which would cost on others. She adjusted and gave strong, nuanced performance that is always grounded in absolute truth. Mary Francis is going to tear it up people... just watch.
Last but not least, I need mention Shannon Allel Reeve. Shannon is one the most giving and hard-working people I have ever had the pleasure to share a set with. She has an amazing lack of ego and besides being a fantastic actress, I would not have made it through a few days on that Cruise without her. She is tireless with an amazing spirit and I'm so glad to see her getting so many parts. She is a force to be reckoned with.
I'm not going to comment right now on the finale because it's behind the scenes thoughts and if you read this, it will reverberate without you knowing it. All I can say is that I am proud that I was part of the series that brought some of the best work I've seen from Jill, Cathy and Ann. Especially because of their involvement in every other aspect of the series.... not easy to do folks. Check it out.
So... that is my pre-finale, pre-treatment rant of the week. Have a glorious weekend all! I am diving into a sea of hospital bills and financial aid web sites. Not complaining though... in all things, I remain a lucky and ridiculously grateful, at some point to be breast cancer survivor who finally knows how lucky she is.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
"Love is like oxygen... "
What does that have to do with this blog? nothing really but let me try.
So, cancer does not do well in oxygenated blood. it hates it. Which is why due to my aerobics, I now have the blood pressure of a teenager. And not that drunken sailor either. Which I still miss by the way :) that doesn't make sense, but I haven't gotten much sleep so I don't care!
I'm filled with movie love and family love and friend love. Yes, movie love. I saw "undertow" last night at the Castro and fell in love again. What a beautiful and graceful movie. Seriously, see it. And the director was so passionate and said all the directory things that only geeks like us love... about location feeding character, shadow and light... the process of letting your script breath on it's own. Sigh and smile :)
So, off to Austin. Have to miss both screenings of WHTSN in Frameline, which sucks (did I mention that I hate being left our of anything??) Off for some treatments, hot springs and a wedding! Timing is everything and not always what you would like I'm finally accepting that.
But before I go, I am transferring my care over to what seems to be the Nasa of breast cancer treatment: UCSF. Just in time, while the bills are piling in and my bank account is drained. Bordering close on the filing that chapter that no one wants to file... is it still 13? The sad thing is, I know of three other people who have it worse than me. The are losing their houses...
Fuck. another friend of mine just told me their biopsy is cancer... she's a lovely woman. Full of life and this just friggin sucks.
Well, this blog was going to be different than I thought now. I am not going to finish it but before I go, this is what I got yesterday as a gift.
I had this amazing conversation with someone who has more advanced breast cancer. she had a mastectomy, but they found cancer in her lymph nodes and hers was super aggressive. It was bad enough that she lost her breast, had to go through full throttle chemo and hormone therapy... she was 44 and it slammed her into an early menopause which put her body into craziness it wasn't ready for. She doesn't regret it, she said she didn't have a choice because of how fast it was moving.
She is so brave and sweet and she is helping me get into UCSF so I can have the best care for my cancer. Before we got off the phone, we talked about how once you have been diagnosed, cancer is a part of your life... for the rest of your life. It's not a death sentence... no one, and even doctors say this now, can tell you what will happen. It's your cancer. There are only odds and you never give in to it. You don't accept it, you fight it. You get it out and try to make sure it never returns. You wage war. Whether it's wheat grass or apricot pits or the best of western medicine. You kill it first. You have to be the cheetah, not the impala.
But there is also a gift in this kind of war. It's figuring out how you want to live your life. There's a saying in some American Indians cultures: when they would great the day with "today is a good day to die." I used to hate that. I lost my sister when I was really young, so the thought of losing anyone was always so painful to me. But when my friend said that now she lives her life asking "what do I want to be doing when I die." ...and I got it. And that's the gift that some of us have to get the hard way... and it's not about choosing how you die. It's all about choosing how you live.
Now I'm going to go love my friend and give her the support so many of you and others in my life have continually given me. And then fly to Austin and wear a silk skirt in 97 degree weather.
xoxoxoRobyn
So, cancer does not do well in oxygenated blood. it hates it. Which is why due to my aerobics, I now have the blood pressure of a teenager. And not that drunken sailor either. Which I still miss by the way :) that doesn't make sense, but I haven't gotten much sleep so I don't care!
I'm filled with movie love and family love and friend love. Yes, movie love. I saw "undertow" last night at the Castro and fell in love again. What a beautiful and graceful movie. Seriously, see it. And the director was so passionate and said all the directory things that only geeks like us love... about location feeding character, shadow and light... the process of letting your script breath on it's own. Sigh and smile :)
So, off to Austin. Have to miss both screenings of WHTSN in Frameline, which sucks (did I mention that I hate being left our of anything??) Off for some treatments, hot springs and a wedding! Timing is everything and not always what you would like I'm finally accepting that.
But before I go, I am transferring my care over to what seems to be the Nasa of breast cancer treatment: UCSF. Just in time, while the bills are piling in and my bank account is drained. Bordering close on the filing that chapter that no one wants to file... is it still 13? The sad thing is, I know of three other people who have it worse than me. The are losing their houses...
Fuck. another friend of mine just told me their biopsy is cancer... she's a lovely woman. Full of life and this just friggin sucks.
Well, this blog was going to be different than I thought now. I am not going to finish it but before I go, this is what I got yesterday as a gift.
I had this amazing conversation with someone who has more advanced breast cancer. she had a mastectomy, but they found cancer in her lymph nodes and hers was super aggressive. It was bad enough that she lost her breast, had to go through full throttle chemo and hormone therapy... she was 44 and it slammed her into an early menopause which put her body into craziness it wasn't ready for. She doesn't regret it, she said she didn't have a choice because of how fast it was moving.
She is so brave and sweet and she is helping me get into UCSF so I can have the best care for my cancer. Before we got off the phone, we talked about how once you have been diagnosed, cancer is a part of your life... for the rest of your life. It's not a death sentence... no one, and even doctors say this now, can tell you what will happen. It's your cancer. There are only odds and you never give in to it. You don't accept it, you fight it. You get it out and try to make sure it never returns. You wage war. Whether it's wheat grass or apricot pits or the best of western medicine. You kill it first. You have to be the cheetah, not the impala.
But there is also a gift in this kind of war. It's figuring out how you want to live your life. There's a saying in some American Indians cultures: when they would great the day with "today is a good day to die." I used to hate that. I lost my sister when I was really young, so the thought of losing anyone was always so painful to me. But when my friend said that now she lives her life asking "what do I want to be doing when I die." ...and I got it. And that's the gift that some of us have to get the hard way... and it's not about choosing how you die. It's all about choosing how you live.
Now I'm going to go love my friend and give her the support so many of you and others in my life have continually given me. And then fly to Austin and wear a silk skirt in 97 degree weather.
xoxoxoRobyn
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Cancer sucks/actors rock: Part One
So... I am waiting for my first Chemo but also getting a second opinion on treatments. A good friend of mine suggested that I check out UCSF, which has the cutting edge newest treatments... so I am, which is yet another stack of paperwork and phone calls, etc but well worth it in the end. I'm still pretty sure about Chemo at this point. It's weird, you know no one can make this decision for you. And it's all a crap shoot in some ways backed up with statistics. My alternative medicine providers are against it, Meg is 50/50, other cancer survivors are mostly for it. And then there is me. With my gut. My gut says a hestitant "yes"... so, we will see. Oh yeah, and if my insurance decides they will pay for it (more on that later.)
Meanwhile, my life is not just about cancer. It's also about my passion for filmmaking and the amazing people I get to work with. I'll tell you right now, I love actors. As most of you know I worked on a web series "We Have To Stop Now" which is making it's mark on the internet and beyond. Season One is playing round the world in film festivals and from the looks of it, Season Two will be heading that way as well. Those ground breaking peeps at Wolfe Video are celebrating their 25th year and so happy that the show is a part of the Wolfe family. And amazingly proud to watch a project that started as a whim, that we produced for about 50 cents and bag of Doritos turn into full-fledged series.
As a director, I have to say the most satisfying thing is working with the actors. I could rave about working with the ladies of Dynakit (Jill, Cathy and Ann) but I've done that over and over (just listen to the commentary on the fan video of Season One) But what I want to talk about is the other crazy good talent I was lucky enough to work with on the show.
Starting with Suzanne Westenhoefer. I actually didn't know much about Suzanne before working with her. I knew she almost made me pee my pants when I saw her at Dinah in 2008 and that she was super sweet when we all hung out backstage. What I didn't know was what a hard working actress she would be... how much she would grow as an actress in the process of Season One and Season Two. How honest she is as a performer and willing to go wherever she needs to go to give a good performance.
Acting on the screen is not an easy to thing to do...ever. Even in a huge budget film, the stop and start... the disconcerting way a director has to break down a scene to film it. And on our series, the hours were xtra crazy long. We shot 8 - 10 pages a day in Season One and then topped it by filming 10 - 12 pages a day on Season Two. Sometimes on a moving ship with a hurricane at our heels.
Now I can tell you stories about producing and directing on that kind of schedule that would curl your hair, but imagine being an actress during that. All the actors pulled off such great work under those conditions, Jill and Cathy having the largest load as the leads. But Suzanne won the prize on our first day of shooting. I remember watching her on the 16th hour:
I was scrunched down behind the camera with the crew... we were all dead tired (I'm still sorry for the hours I put that crew through) and going for the perfect take. No lights in our eyes, not having to look good or perform. Suzanne had been there all day... performing the lines for other actors and then, into makeup and hours later... there she was. Performing like a rock star, like she had been on a film set her whole life.
She put so much trust in me and gave such a nuanced performance at the end of the day... when the rest of us were wilting behind the camera, she knocked it out of the ball park all night long. She friggin rocked it!
I can't wait to see what else Ms. Suzanne Westenhoefer will do in her career. I'm just grateful that I was lucky enough to be one of the first directors to see what a talented and dedicated artist she is.
Johnny McLaughlin...the last I heard, John was working on a new feature that would really show the world what this man can do. Always committed to bring the best to his character and the show, I loved every minute of working with him. My favorite is a scene which you actually haven't seen yet, so I can't give it away. But it's funny, touching and beautifully portrayed.
John is the kind of actor that is willing to expose himself in his part and I love that we get to see what a wonderfully complex character "Guy is. And it would only take an actor with access to all his sweetness, his snarkiness and his grounded talent to pull it off the way John does. Kudos Johnny. Johnny W. McLaughlin I mean :)
My only regret is that I took on too much during that production, so my time with the actors was much more limited than I would have liked. Because there is honestly nothing more amazing than watching what a great actor can do with the written word. Or the unwritten silence. When I was editing Season One, I used to just love to watch Jill and Cathy interact in the silence... or the exquisite timing they found in Ann's words. Ann's writing is a gift in itself... you already start on such a rich ground that it inspires you to do your best work in return.
Watching the actors navigate through the lovely twist and turns of Season Two was especially sweet. I'm really proud of how we all worked so hard in each creative session to find the more complex story lines of Season Two and build off what we sometimes created out of sheer instinct of Season One. And that in face of rocking ships, inhuman hours, carrying grip equipment back and forth, squeaking ropes at dock and other strange noises that come only from "shooting on a ship," I am so proud to see how far this series has come. And that only happens with the passion and dedication of everyone who worked on it.
Part Two: the other uber talented guest stars and supporting leads we got to play with.
Meanwhile, my life is not just about cancer. It's also about my passion for filmmaking and the amazing people I get to work with. I'll tell you right now, I love actors. As most of you know I worked on a web series "We Have To Stop Now" which is making it's mark on the internet and beyond. Season One is playing round the world in film festivals and from the looks of it, Season Two will be heading that way as well. Those ground breaking peeps at Wolfe Video are celebrating their 25th year and so happy that the show is a part of the Wolfe family. And amazingly proud to watch a project that started as a whim, that we produced for about 50 cents and bag of Doritos turn into full-fledged series.
As a director, I have to say the most satisfying thing is working with the actors. I could rave about working with the ladies of Dynakit (Jill, Cathy and Ann) but I've done that over and over (just listen to the commentary on the fan video of Season One) But what I want to talk about is the other crazy good talent I was lucky enough to work with on the show.
Starting with Suzanne Westenhoefer. I actually didn't know much about Suzanne before working with her. I knew she almost made me pee my pants when I saw her at Dinah in 2008 and that she was super sweet when we all hung out backstage. What I didn't know was what a hard working actress she would be... how much she would grow as an actress in the process of Season One and Season Two. How honest she is as a performer and willing to go wherever she needs to go to give a good performance.
Acting on the screen is not an easy to thing to do...ever. Even in a huge budget film, the stop and start... the disconcerting way a director has to break down a scene to film it. And on our series, the hours were xtra crazy long. We shot 8 - 10 pages a day in Season One and then topped it by filming 10 - 12 pages a day on Season Two. Sometimes on a moving ship with a hurricane at our heels.
Now I can tell you stories about producing and directing on that kind of schedule that would curl your hair, but imagine being an actress during that. All the actors pulled off such great work under those conditions, Jill and Cathy having the largest load as the leads. But Suzanne won the prize on our first day of shooting. I remember watching her on the 16th hour:
I was scrunched down behind the camera with the crew... we were all dead tired (I'm still sorry for the hours I put that crew through) and going for the perfect take. No lights in our eyes, not having to look good or perform. Suzanne had been there all day... performing the lines for other actors and then, into makeup and hours later... there she was. Performing like a rock star, like she had been on a film set her whole life.
She put so much trust in me and gave such a nuanced performance at the end of the day... when the rest of us were wilting behind the camera, she knocked it out of the ball park all night long. She friggin rocked it!
I can't wait to see what else Ms. Suzanne Westenhoefer will do in her career. I'm just grateful that I was lucky enough to be one of the first directors to see what a talented and dedicated artist she is.
Johnny McLaughlin...the last I heard, John was working on a new feature that would really show the world what this man can do. Always committed to bring the best to his character and the show, I loved every minute of working with him. My favorite is a scene which you actually haven't seen yet, so I can't give it away. But it's funny, touching and beautifully portrayed.
John is the kind of actor that is willing to expose himself in his part and I love that we get to see what a wonderfully complex character "Guy is. And it would only take an actor with access to all his sweetness, his snarkiness and his grounded talent to pull it off the way John does. Kudos Johnny. Johnny W. McLaughlin I mean :)
My only regret is that I took on too much during that production, so my time with the actors was much more limited than I would have liked. Because there is honestly nothing more amazing than watching what a great actor can do with the written word. Or the unwritten silence. When I was editing Season One, I used to just love to watch Jill and Cathy interact in the silence... or the exquisite timing they found in Ann's words. Ann's writing is a gift in itself... you already start on such a rich ground that it inspires you to do your best work in return.
Watching the actors navigate through the lovely twist and turns of Season Two was especially sweet. I'm really proud of how we all worked so hard in each creative session to find the more complex story lines of Season Two and build off what we sometimes created out of sheer instinct of Season One. And that in face of rocking ships, inhuman hours, carrying grip equipment back and forth, squeaking ropes at dock and other strange noises that come only from "shooting on a ship," I am so proud to see how far this series has come. And that only happens with the passion and dedication of everyone who worked on it.
Part Two: the other uber talented guest stars and supporting leads we got to play with.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
"Nobody dies from Breast Cancer"
"Nobody dies from Breast Cancer"....
I sort of snapped out of the slide show in my head at that point and stared at my oncologist. I know that's not what she just said, but I'm pretty sure that's what she meant. I actually have no idea what she had said... all I know is that it landed with a thud in my gut.
On my way to the office that day, I was going over some blog ideas that had me chuckling. They had to do with being out of work during all this, asking if I can do my medical paperwork during radiation (because the paperwork and insurance two-step is never ending,) and a funny dialogue about my boob scar.
As you know, up until today, I had a great "low risk" report card. Tumor and it's little cancer following gone... good margins, hormone treatable (other technical things from the cancer biopsy that I never wrote down but are in my favor) all good. I was in the low risk category for recurrence of breast cancer or cancer of any kind. Except for one thing that was "worrisome"... The cancer cells they extracted were dividing much too fast for a low risk diagnosis.
So we did another test: Oncotype DX. what they do is chart the cancer and the chance of a recurrence. It's actually pretty cool as they chart 23 genes in the sample to come up with this rating. MY rating? 23: 15% chance of cancer somewhere else in my body in the next five years. That put me smack in the gray area of the spectrum. If it was 18 or under, it would low risk still and would go along with the rest of the diagnosis. 30 and over would put me at high risk. The temperature of my cancer turns out to be medium rare... and it's my bet.
That was one of the things I was thinking about after she told me my score and explained what it meant. She showed me the sheet, but honestly, I was out at that point. I was having a slide show of the future... liver tests, since my liver was a concern before. Head scarves, because she was "offering" chemo... and worldwide poker.
Having cancer at that moment put in a version one of my favorite shows "worldwide poker series" Here I was, waiting to bet on the big hand of cancer. I had 85% with the cards in my hand and the flop. (okay, I actually don't know if I'm at the river card or not... once again, hard to say with cancer but anyway...)... based on statistics, if I take the next chemo card then no matter what my chances of winning increase to app. 93%.
Seems like an easy choice except what had happened was that I was sort of lulled into thinking I was getting out chemo free. All the signs were there and encouraging. It also meant I wasn't at any calculable risk for cancer anywhere else. I think once my liver was clear I thought I was cool. I was already writing my cancer hero's journey, complete with lessons learned both physical and emotional... strong warrior woman with a head scarf standing on a rock over Hollywood... wait, that friggin scarf should have tipped me off. Regardless, I saw my future in the next month or two.
So, here I am staring at my doctor. And my future is right now and the cancer free is at least six months off and it what hit me in the gut was this: I'm not playing for my boobs right now.
I could be playing for my liver or my kidneys... my tumor was near the chest wall, so I could be playing for my lungs... this was the first time I had felt that the decision I made was directly going to effect my chances of survival. Drinking wheat grass gently says "stop it cancer"... sort of the way I envision a yoga teacher attacking someone and then settling into the "gentle warrior" pose. Chemo says "fuck off and die invader... I may lose some but you are GOING DOWN MUTHA-FUCKER." Big guns.
I wonder what she was thinking as she waited. She's a nice woman, but I can hear in her head : "Geez, I am talking about cancer and you are worrying about your hair?" I focused in and she said that because I'm a young woman (obviously the one thing she hasn't looked at is my age) and that the benefits high out way the risks. And then, when I made my decision she smiled and said that she believes I made the right choice. And she actually looked like she was happy.
So... Chemo it is. 3 week sessions, four times. then radiation. then hormones. Now this my friends should be an adventure!
Next time: Hairstyles of the chemo and "how the hell do I prep for this one?"
I sort of snapped out of the slide show in my head at that point and stared at my oncologist. I know that's not what she just said, but I'm pretty sure that's what she meant. I actually have no idea what she had said... all I know is that it landed with a thud in my gut.
On my way to the office that day, I was going over some blog ideas that had me chuckling. They had to do with being out of work during all this, asking if I can do my medical paperwork during radiation (because the paperwork and insurance two-step is never ending,) and a funny dialogue about my boob scar.
As you know, up until today, I had a great "low risk" report card. Tumor and it's little cancer following gone... good margins, hormone treatable (other technical things from the cancer biopsy that I never wrote down but are in my favor) all good. I was in the low risk category for recurrence of breast cancer or cancer of any kind. Except for one thing that was "worrisome"... The cancer cells they extracted were dividing much too fast for a low risk diagnosis.
So we did another test: Oncotype DX. what they do is chart the cancer and the chance of a recurrence. It's actually pretty cool as they chart 23 genes in the sample to come up with this rating. MY rating? 23: 15% chance of cancer somewhere else in my body in the next five years. That put me smack in the gray area of the spectrum. If it was 18 or under, it would low risk still and would go along with the rest of the diagnosis. 30 and over would put me at high risk. The temperature of my cancer turns out to be medium rare... and it's my bet.
That was one of the things I was thinking about after she told me my score and explained what it meant. She showed me the sheet, but honestly, I was out at that point. I was having a slide show of the future... liver tests, since my liver was a concern before. Head scarves, because she was "offering" chemo... and worldwide poker.
Having cancer at that moment put in a version one of my favorite shows "worldwide poker series" Here I was, waiting to bet on the big hand of cancer. I had 85% with the cards in my hand and the flop. (okay, I actually don't know if I'm at the river card or not... once again, hard to say with cancer but anyway...)... based on statistics, if I take the next chemo card then no matter what my chances of winning increase to app. 93%.
Seems like an easy choice except what had happened was that I was sort of lulled into thinking I was getting out chemo free. All the signs were there and encouraging. It also meant I wasn't at any calculable risk for cancer anywhere else. I think once my liver was clear I thought I was cool. I was already writing my cancer hero's journey, complete with lessons learned both physical and emotional... strong warrior woman with a head scarf standing on a rock over Hollywood... wait, that friggin scarf should have tipped me off. Regardless, I saw my future in the next month or two.
So, here I am staring at my doctor. And my future is right now and the cancer free is at least six months off and it what hit me in the gut was this: I'm not playing for my boobs right now.
I could be playing for my liver or my kidneys... my tumor was near the chest wall, so I could be playing for my lungs... this was the first time I had felt that the decision I made was directly going to effect my chances of survival. Drinking wheat grass gently says "stop it cancer"... sort of the way I envision a yoga teacher attacking someone and then settling into the "gentle warrior" pose. Chemo says "fuck off and die invader... I may lose some but you are GOING DOWN MUTHA-FUCKER." Big guns.
I wonder what she was thinking as she waited. She's a nice woman, but I can hear in her head : "Geez, I am talking about cancer and you are worrying about your hair?" I focused in and she said that because I'm a young woman (obviously the one thing she hasn't looked at is my age) and that the benefits high out way the risks. And then, when I made my decision she smiled and said that she believes I made the right choice. And she actually looked like she was happy.
So... Chemo it is. 3 week sessions, four times. then radiation. then hormones. Now this my friends should be an adventure!
Next time: Hairstyles of the chemo and "how the hell do I prep for this one?"
Friday, June 4, 2010
the decidely whiny cancer warrior weekend
this weekend:
" I don't want to have cancer. I want to be healthy and drink Mojitos and play poker and go dance to GAGA for hours and then eat Carl's Jr. at 2 in the morning. I don't want to think about what "good for me" thing I should eat and how radiation is going to be weird and chemo, even weirder yet! I don't want to wait for results or be strong or brave. I want to be that 17 year old drunken sailor (I relate my inner child to a gay teenage sailor...my closest friends would agree)... I don't want to care if my insurance co. is running everyone around and threatening not to pay, I don't want to wait for any more friggin test results, don't want to give blood or have dye shot into me... just stick a thermometer in, tell me the temperature of the cancer and let's get the fuck on with it!!!!"
Yes...I had a decidedly whiny Memorial weekend Saturday. My girl was at a family reunion (thank god, poor thing, she's been attending the post surgery moi) so it was me and the kittens. After I visited my Mom and was a good little warrior, I went home and had my crying tantrum. I came home and cried like a baby for as long as it took to get it all out of my system.
Then, I ate popcorn with butter (ooh, la la!) and had ice cream (pretended it was a frozen Mojito)...played video games with the kittens in my lap and watched the entire second season of "Legends of the Seeker." (no, it had nothing to do with red leather) The next day, I pried myself from the adventures of medieval warriors with strange and sometimes hot powers, and went to the gym. I drank my wheat grass. I wrote in between napping with kittens. I even meditated...that's right, me, MEDITATED! And then I blasted Lady Gaga and danced until it hurt my boob... which was exactly 10 minutes.
One thing I've learned is that every brave warrior needs to acknowledge the other side of being brave. Cancer sucks. Yes, It's been a turning point for me to really see who I am, what I am made of and most importantly, who I want to be... but it still sucks. And just like anything else in life, it's my choice on what I do with what has been handed to me in life. And in some instances, what I've handed myself.
It made me think about how even before Cancer, would have such judgments about feelings I had instead of just having them and moving on. I never realized how hard I was on myself until I couldn't be anymore. I've had to become so much more patient with myself and my body... and because of that, it's so much easier to deal with things. Maybe it's because the weight of having to be a perfect human has lifted? I don't know... I just know that giving myself freedom to be flawed and make mistakes allows me to be so much more present and open to the world around me. Even when it sucks!
" I don't want to have cancer. I want to be healthy and drink Mojitos and play poker and go dance to GAGA for hours and then eat Carl's Jr. at 2 in the morning. I don't want to think about what "good for me" thing I should eat and how radiation is going to be weird and chemo, even weirder yet! I don't want to wait for results or be strong or brave. I want to be that 17 year old drunken sailor (I relate my inner child to a gay teenage sailor...my closest friends would agree)... I don't want to care if my insurance co. is running everyone around and threatening not to pay, I don't want to wait for any more friggin test results, don't want to give blood or have dye shot into me... just stick a thermometer in, tell me the temperature of the cancer and let's get the fuck on with it!!!!"
Yes...I had a decidedly whiny Memorial weekend Saturday. My girl was at a family reunion (thank god, poor thing, she's been attending the post surgery moi) so it was me and the kittens. After I visited my Mom and was a good little warrior, I went home and had my crying tantrum. I came home and cried like a baby for as long as it took to get it all out of my system.
Then, I ate popcorn with butter (ooh, la la!) and had ice cream (pretended it was a frozen Mojito)...played video games with the kittens in my lap and watched the entire second season of "Legends of the Seeker." (no, it had nothing to do with red leather) The next day, I pried myself from the adventures of medieval warriors with strange and sometimes hot powers, and went to the gym. I drank my wheat grass. I wrote in between napping with kittens. I even meditated...that's right, me, MEDITATED! And then I blasted Lady Gaga and danced until it hurt my boob... which was exactly 10 minutes.
One thing I've learned is that every brave warrior needs to acknowledge the other side of being brave. Cancer sucks. Yes, It's been a turning point for me to really see who I am, what I am made of and most importantly, who I want to be... but it still sucks. And just like anything else in life, it's my choice on what I do with what has been handed to me in life. And in some instances, what I've handed myself.
It made me think about how even before Cancer, would have such judgments about feelings I had instead of just having them and moving on. I never realized how hard I was on myself until I couldn't be anymore. I've had to become so much more patient with myself and my body... and because of that, it's so much easier to deal with things. Maybe it's because the weight of having to be a perfect human has lifted? I don't know... I just know that giving myself freedom to be flawed and make mistakes allows me to be so much more present and open to the world around me. Even when it sucks!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Why my Boob loves Obama! That damn health bill IS WORKING PEOPLE!
Okay, I need to stop blogging today and actually get a job or something but I have to stand on my soap box and beat my sore chest! ... that health care bill IS changing things people...
So, I am being tested for my risk of recurrence of breast cancer which will determine also if I'm in for chemo or not... my insurance covers it but it would still cost me 1200 even after my deductible... NOW, after passing of that bill, the lab that runs this test will pay my total amount due because I am low/no income The agent told me herself this is a direct result of something in that health bill...Yayayay! MY BOOB IS VERY HAPPY and feeling strangely patriotic at that moment... which is odd for a boob.
Maybe I'll paint it red white and blue and send it to Obama... do you think he would understand? Or would I be put on some sort of "crazy breast cancer" list with the CIA? Oh wait, that was the dick head we had before... My Obama gets me!
So, I am being tested for my risk of recurrence of breast cancer which will determine also if I'm in for chemo or not... my insurance covers it but it would still cost me 1200 even after my deductible... NOW, after passing of that bill, the lab that runs this test will pay my total amount due because I am low/no income The agent told me herself this is a direct result of something in that health bill...Yayayay! MY BOOB IS VERY HAPPY and feeling strangely patriotic at that moment... which is odd for a boob.
Maybe I'll paint it red white and blue and send it to Obama... do you think he would understand? Or would I be put on some sort of "crazy breast cancer" list with the CIA? Oh wait, that was the dick head we had before... My Obama gets me!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
My report card so far: Stage Two Breast Cancer
So, the news is 95% good. Like I said before, good margins, clear lymph nodes, clear blood and found out Friday, clear liver. They are still concerned about the levels they got, so more blood work to do... but there is no evidence of cancer so that rocks!
The 5% is a little troubling right now... but, true to Dettman form, even my cancer cells are over achievers. ( I imagine them working 20 hours a day, taking on way too much, refusing help at any corner and then asking the surrounding breast tissue if they are performing well.)
Okay, here is the low down on my breast cancer: First, this is what stage two breast cancer is in my case: Malignant tumor in my milk duct The cancer had started to spread to the surrounding tissue, making it invasive and at a Stage Two.
so, the steps are: get the cancer out. And a portion of the healthy tissue surrounding... just in case. Next, check the rest of the body for cancer. I have no signs that it has metastasized anywhere else so far, except for those weird liver readings. So, did the CT scan on the abdomen. All clear there, so Yay!!! But won't get the all clear of cancer card til after treatment and then another PET test that scans me for rogue cancer I guess. Which is a way off.
Once they take out your cancer, they study it. I got back mostly good news. Hormone treatable, which means less of all the other scary stuff. Size was good, margins good ( I was wrong before. Margins are in regards to the healthy tissue they take out as well just in case there are any pre-cancerous things going on there.) The cancer type itself is not aggressive but...
So, what is that 5%? Apparently, the invasive cancer outside the tumor was multiplying very fast. they rate the division of cells concern at 15 - 20 %. Mine were 30. So basically, I went from being a low risk of reoccurring breast cancer to a possible high risk. DAMN!!!
But it's still not conclusive. More tests on the cancer itself which will target that specific "quality" of the cancer... and the return on that test determines whether or not I get the dreaded chemo-therapy. And more radiation.
I asked the nurse at the oncologist if she thinks peoples blood pressure goes up significantly when they come in to find results. She asked me why and I said because I'm totally cool until I walk through the door and start staring at that huge fish tank and begin to realize that in like 10 minutes I'm going to find out if my liver has a tumor in it.... I'm pretty sure my heart is beating just a bit faster than normal.
And so, the waiting continues... but I'm healing well and having my alternative medical treatments which are amazing... next blog I'll tell you about an amazing woman who is giving me free treatments that are helping my body repair itself, prepare for some major cell craziness (at the very least, radiation) and has helped me re-tune my nervous system... I'm going to make a video for her when I am able to help her change the world one spine at a time.
What I've learned that cancer hates: oxygen. Cancer hates people who do aerobic exercise. Vitamin D. Cancer no likey. It also doesn't like people with an alkaline ph balance in their bodies which means it also doesn't like wheat grass, sweet potatoes, people who eat a Mediterranean diet, avocados and a list of other things you can find in the ph charts online.
What does cancer like? stress. lots of stress since it puts your body in a very vulnerable place. it likes lots of sugar and any amount of fat. And it LOVES it when you over load your liver with alcohol, or high fat so that it can't do it's job and drain away the potentially dangerous elements in your system.
So what am I craving right now? Mojito. Steak. Video games (those are actually good for you in low doses... keep up your fighting skills) Ha. That's life. Today is the first day my breast hasn't hurt. I guess all the pain killer are gone now and my breast has gone through what I like to call the "what the hell happened here????" phase of pain. You know, the nerves are waking up from the vicodin induced coma... that shooting pain. And then it figures it out and goes to work healing it. My white blood cells are all up in that biz!
Next time: "I am breathing... aren't I?"
The 5% is a little troubling right now... but, true to Dettman form, even my cancer cells are over achievers. ( I imagine them working 20 hours a day, taking on way too much, refusing help at any corner and then asking the surrounding breast tissue if they are performing well.)
Okay, here is the low down on my breast cancer: First, this is what stage two breast cancer is in my case: Malignant tumor in my milk duct The cancer had started to spread to the surrounding tissue, making it invasive and at a Stage Two.
so, the steps are: get the cancer out. And a portion of the healthy tissue surrounding... just in case. Next, check the rest of the body for cancer. I have no signs that it has metastasized anywhere else so far, except for those weird liver readings. So, did the CT scan on the abdomen. All clear there, so Yay!!! But won't get the all clear of cancer card til after treatment and then another PET test that scans me for rogue cancer I guess. Which is a way off.
Once they take out your cancer, they study it. I got back mostly good news. Hormone treatable, which means less of all the other scary stuff. Size was good, margins good ( I was wrong before. Margins are in regards to the healthy tissue they take out as well just in case there are any pre-cancerous things going on there.) The cancer type itself is not aggressive but...
So, what is that 5%? Apparently, the invasive cancer outside the tumor was multiplying very fast. they rate the division of cells concern at 15 - 20 %. Mine were 30. So basically, I went from being a low risk of reoccurring breast cancer to a possible high risk. DAMN!!!
But it's still not conclusive. More tests on the cancer itself which will target that specific "quality" of the cancer... and the return on that test determines whether or not I get the dreaded chemo-therapy. And more radiation.
I asked the nurse at the oncologist if she thinks peoples blood pressure goes up significantly when they come in to find results. She asked me why and I said because I'm totally cool until I walk through the door and start staring at that huge fish tank and begin to realize that in like 10 minutes I'm going to find out if my liver has a tumor in it.... I'm pretty sure my heart is beating just a bit faster than normal.
And so, the waiting continues... but I'm healing well and having my alternative medical treatments which are amazing... next blog I'll tell you about an amazing woman who is giving me free treatments that are helping my body repair itself, prepare for some major cell craziness (at the very least, radiation) and has helped me re-tune my nervous system... I'm going to make a video for her when I am able to help her change the world one spine at a time.
What I've learned that cancer hates: oxygen. Cancer hates people who do aerobic exercise. Vitamin D. Cancer no likey. It also doesn't like people with an alkaline ph balance in their bodies which means it also doesn't like wheat grass, sweet potatoes, people who eat a Mediterranean diet, avocados and a list of other things you can find in the ph charts online.
What does cancer like? stress. lots of stress since it puts your body in a very vulnerable place. it likes lots of sugar and any amount of fat. And it LOVES it when you over load your liver with alcohol, or high fat so that it can't do it's job and drain away the potentially dangerous elements in your system.
So what am I craving right now? Mojito. Steak. Video games (those are actually good for you in low doses... keep up your fighting skills) Ha. That's life. Today is the first day my breast hasn't hurt. I guess all the pain killer are gone now and my breast has gone through what I like to call the "what the hell happened here????" phase of pain. You know, the nerves are waking up from the vicodin induced coma... that shooting pain. And then it figures it out and goes to work healing it. My white blood cells are all up in that biz!
Next time: "I am breathing... aren't I?"
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Dear medical team: I'm blessed to have you people but my breast hates you right now
INT. ELEVATOR - ALTA BATES SUMMIT HOSPITAL
The elevators open. Two FEMALE DOCTORS, mid thirties and on their 20th hour of a long shift, enter the already packed elevator. They both smile at another FEMALE DOCTOR #3.
FEMALE DOCTOR #1: We need to talk later about the fourth floor.
FEMALE DOCTOR #3: We will. Oh I'm sure we all will.
FEMALE DOCTOR #2: What happened?
FEMALE DOCTOR #3: It was devastating, just devastating.
FEMALE DOCTOR #1: That's what I heard. It's tragic.
Cut to me, on a gurney with small amounts of radiation rushing to my lymph nodes and a needle holder (yes, that's the medical term) for an IV sticking out of my hand.
In my mind I scream: Hello you ass-wipes! Can you not see the person who has obviously NOT had her surgery yet on the gurney in front of you? I just moved my feet so you can get on for chrissakes! I should kick you!!!
Instead, I ask the nurse from Nuclear Medicine who wheels me off the elevator:
"Please tell me we aren't going to the fourth floor???"
Was I scared after that? No, I was scared before that... What I have noticed about how I am dealing with cancer; there isn't my usual adept escape into my imagination because, well, what the hell would that do? No denial. I have this sort of " I am a warrior" approach to these treatments so far. Probably not as noble as a warrior, more like the way Harry Potter would approach it, that kind of thing. So, in the week leading up to the surgery, I was studying my nutritional stuff and emotional healing meditations/therapy, going to the gym to be strong like Bull...
That was fine until I was lying on hospital bed, having an IV needle stuck in my arm in my little open in the back gown and my strange little hot blanket machine pumping warm air unto my now very cold limbs. The warrior thoughts were replaced by "holy shit. Okay, now I'm a little freaked out." Harry Potter never had breast surgery. It was all a little too real.
Now let me tell you something about my health care people. I am so amazed and blessed to have such great people working with me on this fight of mine. From the Carol Ann Reed peeps (mammogram to biopsy) who are so gentle and sweet... my Jewish oncologist (it made me feel safe that she was Jewish... she said some day I can have all the Brisket I want... she gets me) and Bruce the boob surgeon who is funny and straight forward and has a huge ego about his boob work (which he should, he did a good job and I told him so.)
Again, I jump ahead but really, they have made the journey so far so much bearable than I could have imagined. They laugh at my jokes, answer the most obscure questions I ask about just about everything and are some of my best cheerleaders so far. Not what you think of when you hear about the big, bad western medicine world. I even got the anesthesiologist to smile when he asked me if I wanted something to calm me before the real drugs begin for surgery. I paused and he said "that's a yes." Then I asked him if it was okay, and he smiled.
So, as they wheeled me out of the room to go to the operating after the "cocktail" I was fine again. Yes, it was that kind of druggy fine that you know is not real, but let's face it, I was not strong as bull at the moment, so why pretend? The new me: yes, I want calm. Wish granted!
I land in the operating room and I'm chatting away and also strangely excited to watch them hook up all the little electrode stuff to me and the heart monitor. I get to be inside the movie this time but no... all I get to see are those big blue operating lights before they are even turned on and I hear "okay, sweet dreams" and....
Next thing I know, my head is sort of bobbing around and I'm trying to keep my eyes open. There is a nurse sitting next to me taking my pulse. I don't even hear the damn heart bleep thing! No fair! I paid good money for this people... but truthfully, the only thing on my mind is my breast. I keep trying to look at it because I don't know how much will be there exactly. But I do know, through all the pain meds that my breast is one angry customer. Even before the operation, it was not happy. And I'll explain.
How they determine cancer levels in lymph nodes: before they operate, they shoot a solution into your breast...about eight shots worth that you pretty much feel all of because they are dangerously close to the nipple (okay, not dangerously close, but it's my nipple!)... anyway, the solution has radioactive bits in it that travel the path that the cancer would if it was sneaking out to other parts of the body.
Then, whilst you are out cold and before the main surgery they find the first two nodes the little particles hit... take them out and whisk them to a waiting pathologist who tests them. If they find tumors or evidence of cancer there, goodbye lymph nodes.
Back in the recovery room: I don't get told anything, Meg has gotten all the news from Bruce and is waiting outside in my Subaru. What I get is a prescription for Vicodin and little booties to take home with non-skid bottoms for when I'm zonked out and walking funny.
They wheel me to the curb (literally) and I see the very tired and sweet face of my wife trying to hold it together when she sees me (projecting? could have been me, i am the Italian cryer in the family) my first question is...
So here is what I know today, almost two weeks after the surgery. The nodes were clear (Yay!) so no cancer that they can detect has taken the nodes lane to the rest of my body. My margins are good! (Margins: roughly translates the cancer to healthy tissue ratio of what they removed and what remains.) Yay again. The tumor has a very high incidence of hormone receptors, which means I can get hormone treatment which might reduce the amount of other kinds of treatment: radiation, chemo
What I don't know: there were elevated levels of something in my liver... which could have been an extra glass of wine (or maybe a year or two of wine stress relief?) so we just did a CT scan to see what up... find out on friday about that when I see my oncologist Dr. Wexler and she tells me her recommendation for treatment.
Oh, a few more things I know: My wife is brave and strong gal... it sucks to be the one in the waiting room who gets the news first. And they don't give her any calming "cocktails" before hand. She is taking amazing care of me and is totally in love with our kittens...hhehehhhe. I knew it was only a matter of time :) for the kittens, she is a dork cuz she has loved me for nigh 10 years now... Yes, I said nigh.
Oh and one more thing: staples look very odd in a breast. Okay, not in exactly... to the side actually, but come on! who invented those? what kind of staple gun is that? and does it make the same noise? whoever invented that must have invented the tube down your throat to keep you asleep as well... probably someone at www.hospitalkink.com
Next time: Robyn learns about protons and photons and systematic warfare.
The elevators open. Two FEMALE DOCTORS, mid thirties and on their 20th hour of a long shift, enter the already packed elevator. They both smile at another FEMALE DOCTOR #3.
FEMALE DOCTOR #1: We need to talk later about the fourth floor.
FEMALE DOCTOR #3: We will. Oh I'm sure we all will.
FEMALE DOCTOR #2: What happened?
FEMALE DOCTOR #3: It was devastating, just devastating.
FEMALE DOCTOR #1: That's what I heard. It's tragic.
Cut to me, on a gurney with small amounts of radiation rushing to my lymph nodes and a needle holder (yes, that's the medical term) for an IV sticking out of my hand.
In my mind I scream: Hello you ass-wipes! Can you not see the person who has obviously NOT had her surgery yet on the gurney in front of you? I just moved my feet so you can get on for chrissakes! I should kick you!!!
Instead, I ask the nurse from Nuclear Medicine who wheels me off the elevator:
"Please tell me we aren't going to the fourth floor???"
Was I scared after that? No, I was scared before that... What I have noticed about how I am dealing with cancer; there isn't my usual adept escape into my imagination because, well, what the hell would that do? No denial. I have this sort of " I am a warrior" approach to these treatments so far. Probably not as noble as a warrior, more like the way Harry Potter would approach it, that kind of thing. So, in the week leading up to the surgery, I was studying my nutritional stuff and emotional healing meditations/therapy, going to the gym to be strong like Bull...
That was fine until I was lying on hospital bed, having an IV needle stuck in my arm in my little open in the back gown and my strange little hot blanket machine pumping warm air unto my now very cold limbs. The warrior thoughts were replaced by "holy shit. Okay, now I'm a little freaked out." Harry Potter never had breast surgery. It was all a little too real.
Now let me tell you something about my health care people. I am so amazed and blessed to have such great people working with me on this fight of mine. From the Carol Ann Reed peeps (mammogram to biopsy) who are so gentle and sweet... my Jewish oncologist (it made me feel safe that she was Jewish... she said some day I can have all the Brisket I want... she gets me) and Bruce the boob surgeon who is funny and straight forward and has a huge ego about his boob work (which he should, he did a good job and I told him so.)
Again, I jump ahead but really, they have made the journey so far so much bearable than I could have imagined. They laugh at my jokes, answer the most obscure questions I ask about just about everything and are some of my best cheerleaders so far. Not what you think of when you hear about the big, bad western medicine world. I even got the anesthesiologist to smile when he asked me if I wanted something to calm me before the real drugs begin for surgery. I paused and he said "that's a yes." Then I asked him if it was okay, and he smiled.
So, as they wheeled me out of the room to go to the operating after the "cocktail" I was fine again. Yes, it was that kind of druggy fine that you know is not real, but let's face it, I was not strong as bull at the moment, so why pretend? The new me: yes, I want calm. Wish granted!
I land in the operating room and I'm chatting away and also strangely excited to watch them hook up all the little electrode stuff to me and the heart monitor. I get to be inside the movie this time but no... all I get to see are those big blue operating lights before they are even turned on and I hear "okay, sweet dreams" and....
Next thing I know, my head is sort of bobbing around and I'm trying to keep my eyes open. There is a nurse sitting next to me taking my pulse. I don't even hear the damn heart bleep thing! No fair! I paid good money for this people... but truthfully, the only thing on my mind is my breast. I keep trying to look at it because I don't know how much will be there exactly. But I do know, through all the pain meds that my breast is one angry customer. Even before the operation, it was not happy. And I'll explain.
How they determine cancer levels in lymph nodes: before they operate, they shoot a solution into your breast...about eight shots worth that you pretty much feel all of because they are dangerously close to the nipple (okay, not dangerously close, but it's my nipple!)... anyway, the solution has radioactive bits in it that travel the path that the cancer would if it was sneaking out to other parts of the body.
Then, whilst you are out cold and before the main surgery they find the first two nodes the little particles hit... take them out and whisk them to a waiting pathologist who tests them. If they find tumors or evidence of cancer there, goodbye lymph nodes.
Back in the recovery room: I don't get told anything, Meg has gotten all the news from Bruce and is waiting outside in my Subaru. What I get is a prescription for Vicodin and little booties to take home with non-skid bottoms for when I'm zonked out and walking funny.
They wheel me to the curb (literally) and I see the very tired and sweet face of my wife trying to hold it together when she sees me (projecting? could have been me, i am the Italian cryer in the family) my first question is...
So here is what I know today, almost two weeks after the surgery. The nodes were clear (Yay!) so no cancer that they can detect has taken the nodes lane to the rest of my body. My margins are good! (Margins: roughly translates the cancer to healthy tissue ratio of what they removed and what remains.) Yay again. The tumor has a very high incidence of hormone receptors, which means I can get hormone treatment which might reduce the amount of other kinds of treatment: radiation, chemo
What I don't know: there were elevated levels of something in my liver... which could have been an extra glass of wine (or maybe a year or two of wine stress relief?) so we just did a CT scan to see what up... find out on friday about that when I see my oncologist Dr. Wexler and she tells me her recommendation for treatment.
Oh, a few more things I know: My wife is brave and strong gal... it sucks to be the one in the waiting room who gets the news first. And they don't give her any calming "cocktails" before hand. She is taking amazing care of me and is totally in love with our kittens...hhehehhhe. I knew it was only a matter of time :) for the kittens, she is a dork cuz she has loved me for nigh 10 years now... Yes, I said nigh.
Oh and one more thing: staples look very odd in a breast. Okay, not in exactly... to the side actually, but come on! who invented those? what kind of staple gun is that? and does it make the same noise? whoever invented that must have invented the tube down your throat to keep you asleep as well... probably someone at www.hospitalkink.com
Next time: Robyn learns about protons and photons and systematic warfare.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
It's my birthday, get the staple remover!
Today is my birthday… Yay! I had a blog ready about my experience in the hospital but it needs to wait because I have an overwhelming urge to be thankful.
First, I am thankful for my friends and family who have showered me with love from all around the world. Seriously, it’s the best medicine… I asked Bruce the boob doctor and he agreed. Okay, I didn’t, but it’s something I’m sure he would. Just like he would approve of his name which I would have told him had I not been in “oh shit, I’m having surgery on my boob in half an hour” mode.
Here is what I’m really grateful for: hoping this is a very expensive and scary wakeup call to action for me or what I like to call “okay universe, I get it!”
What cancer has given me: total and complete paradigm shift. All those things I’ve been thinking of changing (which I’m sure helped make me a cancer greenhouse to begin with)… I have no more excuses. In fact, if I had to sum it up, that would be it. I can no longer use excuses… FOR ANYTHING.
Rationalizations: forget it. Can’t rationalize cancer. You can figure out how to fight it, how to make your body a anti-cancer zone and how your mental and emotional states can contribute to your all around health and balance… but rationalizations, forget it. And so, I find I can’t rationalize anything.
One thing that happened to me after the shock wore off of having cancer was evaluating my life. A natural stage is to be “Blah blah blah ( a lot of statements basically saying poor me)……….. and, now I have cancer!” You can whine all you want and feel sorry for yourself, but it doesn’t change the fact you have cancer. You can’t be a victim and fight cancer.
So I had to make a choice and because this is a huge thing, it had to be made. Either I fight like hell or try to rely on coping devices that no matter how natural they are for us are lame and make us a passive character in our own story. And that’s what I’m doing. I’m figuring out what I want my story to be. So all my mistakes, they are mine. It doesn’t matter who said what or did what or didn’t do… I own it.
Same with blame. Cancer doesn’t care who you are, I have found in my research. Yes, if you have a history, you are more susceptible but I barely had any. No breast cancer at all. No place to hang the blame card.
What I can do is look at the last few years and realize that it’s not a coincidence that I have developed cancer now. Here’s the ingredients I think led me to become this greenhouse of ill; no sleep, massive amounts of stress (99% created by myself with a superwoman complex of not asking for help and thinking I need to carry things all by myself), trying to please everyone and ending up not pleasing anyone, especially myself. Most of all, not being true to myself or following my instincts. Oh yeah, and I also ate tons of red meat, drank like a 17 year old gay sailor (don’t know what that means exactly but it makes sense to me) drank massive amounts of coffee and if you looked at my overall diet, it would be in a pro-cancer diet book (very acidic: more on that later)
The biggest gift I have is the present moment. When I was going being prepped for the surgery, I looked at my adm sheet and it said “wide incision.” I asked what that was and the nurse said “they keep going until they don’t find anymore cancer.” Well, that’s what this whole journey is. It’s test after test after surgery after test… and you just keep going until you run out of cancer.
So, it’s impossible to live in the future and ridiculous to live in the past. Because you just don’t know. For instance, I still have my lymph nodes… for now. Two were taken out during surgery and now are being tested. I'm going in today to find out about the more intense tests of where other cancer might be... everytime I walk into a doctor's office it's an answer to something with leads to another test. So I have a choice: go insane or just go with the flow. I choose flow as insanity hasn't worked well for me in the past.
So my friends, I ask you to do this: think of 5 reasons why you love yourself (yes, it’s self-helpy but indulge me, I have cancer… or might still have cancer… or could be cancer free at this moment), forgive someone who has done you wrong (don't reach out if it's not the right thing, but in your heart) because everyone is doing the best they can and having that anger and resentment floating around inside hardens your heart, I'm convinced of it. And then drink some stars for me.
They are testing my liver, so I am detoxing and can’t enjoy any champagne right now. But here’s something I learned zonked out on Vicodin and watching travel shows with the kittens. Champagne was invented by a monk named Dom Perignon (yes, seriously, or so says Rick Steves) and when he made his discovery, he ran down the monastery stairs and said “Brother’s, you must join me. I am drinking stars.”
So, please drink some stars for me. And, I’m glad you were all born too!
xoR
Next time: who let the staple gun into the OR or What the hell happened on the fourth floor?
First, I am thankful for my friends and family who have showered me with love from all around the world. Seriously, it’s the best medicine… I asked Bruce the boob doctor and he agreed. Okay, I didn’t, but it’s something I’m sure he would. Just like he would approve of his name which I would have told him had I not been in “oh shit, I’m having surgery on my boob in half an hour” mode.
Here is what I’m really grateful for: hoping this is a very expensive and scary wakeup call to action for me or what I like to call “okay universe, I get it!”
What cancer has given me: total and complete paradigm shift. All those things I’ve been thinking of changing (which I’m sure helped make me a cancer greenhouse to begin with)… I have no more excuses. In fact, if I had to sum it up, that would be it. I can no longer use excuses… FOR ANYTHING.
Rationalizations: forget it. Can’t rationalize cancer. You can figure out how to fight it, how to make your body a anti-cancer zone and how your mental and emotional states can contribute to your all around health and balance… but rationalizations, forget it. And so, I find I can’t rationalize anything.
One thing that happened to me after the shock wore off of having cancer was evaluating my life. A natural stage is to be “Blah blah blah ( a lot of statements basically saying poor me)……….. and, now I have cancer!” You can whine all you want and feel sorry for yourself, but it doesn’t change the fact you have cancer. You can’t be a victim and fight cancer.
So I had to make a choice and because this is a huge thing, it had to be made. Either I fight like hell or try to rely on coping devices that no matter how natural they are for us are lame and make us a passive character in our own story. And that’s what I’m doing. I’m figuring out what I want my story to be. So all my mistakes, they are mine. It doesn’t matter who said what or did what or didn’t do… I own it.
Same with blame. Cancer doesn’t care who you are, I have found in my research. Yes, if you have a history, you are more susceptible but I barely had any. No breast cancer at all. No place to hang the blame card.
What I can do is look at the last few years and realize that it’s not a coincidence that I have developed cancer now. Here’s the ingredients I think led me to become this greenhouse of ill; no sleep, massive amounts of stress (99% created by myself with a superwoman complex of not asking for help and thinking I need to carry things all by myself), trying to please everyone and ending up not pleasing anyone, especially myself. Most of all, not being true to myself or following my instincts. Oh yeah, and I also ate tons of red meat, drank like a 17 year old gay sailor (don’t know what that means exactly but it makes sense to me) drank massive amounts of coffee and if you looked at my overall diet, it would be in a pro-cancer diet book (very acidic: more on that later)
The biggest gift I have is the present moment. When I was going being prepped for the surgery, I looked at my adm sheet and it said “wide incision.” I asked what that was and the nurse said “they keep going until they don’t find anymore cancer.” Well, that’s what this whole journey is. It’s test after test after surgery after test… and you just keep going until you run out of cancer.
So, it’s impossible to live in the future and ridiculous to live in the past. Because you just don’t know. For instance, I still have my lymph nodes… for now. Two were taken out during surgery and now are being tested. I'm going in today to find out about the more intense tests of where other cancer might be... everytime I walk into a doctor's office it's an answer to something with leads to another test. So I have a choice: go insane or just go with the flow. I choose flow as insanity hasn't worked well for me in the past.
So my friends, I ask you to do this: think of 5 reasons why you love yourself (yes, it’s self-helpy but indulge me, I have cancer… or might still have cancer… or could be cancer free at this moment), forgive someone who has done you wrong (don't reach out if it's not the right thing, but in your heart) because everyone is doing the best they can and having that anger and resentment floating around inside hardens your heart, I'm convinced of it. And then drink some stars for me.
They are testing my liver, so I am detoxing and can’t enjoy any champagne right now. But here’s something I learned zonked out on Vicodin and watching travel shows with the kittens. Champagne was invented by a monk named Dom Perignon (yes, seriously, or so says Rick Steves) and when he made his discovery, he ran down the monastery stairs and said “Brother’s, you must join me. I am drinking stars.”
So, please drink some stars for me. And, I’m glad you were all born too!
xoR
Next time: who let the staple gun into the OR or What the hell happened on the fourth floor?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Twas the night before surgery and all through the house...
Kittens!!!!! Okay, I officially think that when you are diagnosed with breast cancer, they should hand you kittens. Because, even though I am not cancer free at the moment... I believe they are part of the cure.
More of them later... lots more since I will be nursing a sore boob and may or may not have lymph nodes when I wake up. Which brings me to this...
Just like they say, it's the not knowing that is scarier than shit. Cuz here's the thing. Before I knew, it worse waiting and not knowing. By the way, I snuck a look at the the ultra-sound and even though everyone was being wonderfully positive I knew the minute I saw it that it was not going to be good. That kind of thing does not look like it belongs in a body...
So, when my very young doctor teared up to tell me that I had breast cancer ( I honestly think I was like the third person she had to tell. She asked me if she could hug me) I had bucked up for anything. No matter what, can't be victim when it comes to anything dealing with cancer.
Once you know, You start to fight. You prep, if you are from production :) So now, the scary thing is not knowing how far it is in my body. My amazing docs seem hopeful it's stage one, but there is no way to tell until they go in there and take a lymph node out and test it.
So, will I wake up with lymph nodes or not? I'm betting yes, they will be clear and I will have all but one intact... You can all place bets with the boob bookie I'm sure.
What I learned today: balance. As much as I wanted to know everything about everything about fighting this, you need a day off from it. You need some normal. And you most definitely need kittens.
Besides, my fears have some fierce enemies. I have amazing friends who are health professionals that are giving me free massages, free chiropractic care, free acupunture. It's a whole new world to be in tune with my body again. It naturally hooks you up with yourself... mind, body and soul.
Kind of makes up for the lack of alcohol, red meat, coffee sugar (all bad for my ph...and cancer LOVES those thing. not saying I'm swearing off forever, especially since some of the food I eat now is like falling face down in the grass with your mouth open)...but for right now, the cancer needs to get the hell out of my body. Then we'll see about a Filet Mignon, wine and white chocolate dessert.
Starting tomorrow. With Bruce the boob surgeon. Oh, one more weird thing: I keep looking at my boob. It's weird how it's become almost this innocent part of myself that's been invaded and I feel like I need to protect it somehow. Tomorrow, it's in for a long day. I will be out cold, not dreaming... wait, do you dream when you are under? don't remember... if I do, I'm sure they will be crazy dreams.
Oh and tomorrow, if you know Meg, please send her a text of love since she has to sit there and wait ALL DAY...
And thank you all for the love and support. I send it back to you in abundance... but do me a favor, if you are next to someone turn to them, tell you love them and hug them. For me. Also, make out with them if that's appropriate. And then, because it's me talking, do a shot.
Okay, next time I'll give more tips on how not to be a cancer greenhouse. Or, maybe I'll just tell you about the KITTENS!!!
xoRobyn
More of them later... lots more since I will be nursing a sore boob and may or may not have lymph nodes when I wake up. Which brings me to this...
Just like they say, it's the not knowing that is scarier than shit. Cuz here's the thing. Before I knew, it worse waiting and not knowing. By the way, I snuck a look at the the ultra-sound and even though everyone was being wonderfully positive I knew the minute I saw it that it was not going to be good. That kind of thing does not look like it belongs in a body...
So, when my very young doctor teared up to tell me that I had breast cancer ( I honestly think I was like the third person she had to tell. She asked me if she could hug me) I had bucked up for anything. No matter what, can't be victim when it comes to anything dealing with cancer.
Once you know, You start to fight. You prep, if you are from production :) So now, the scary thing is not knowing how far it is in my body. My amazing docs seem hopeful it's stage one, but there is no way to tell until they go in there and take a lymph node out and test it.
So, will I wake up with lymph nodes or not? I'm betting yes, they will be clear and I will have all but one intact... You can all place bets with the boob bookie I'm sure.
What I learned today: balance. As much as I wanted to know everything about everything about fighting this, you need a day off from it. You need some normal. And you most definitely need kittens.
Besides, my fears have some fierce enemies. I have amazing friends who are health professionals that are giving me free massages, free chiropractic care, free acupunture. It's a whole new world to be in tune with my body again. It naturally hooks you up with yourself... mind, body and soul.
Kind of makes up for the lack of alcohol, red meat, coffee sugar (all bad for my ph...and cancer LOVES those thing. not saying I'm swearing off forever, especially since some of the food I eat now is like falling face down in the grass with your mouth open)...but for right now, the cancer needs to get the hell out of my body. Then we'll see about a Filet Mignon, wine and white chocolate dessert.
Starting tomorrow. With Bruce the boob surgeon. Oh, one more weird thing: I keep looking at my boob. It's weird how it's become almost this innocent part of myself that's been invaded and I feel like I need to protect it somehow. Tomorrow, it's in for a long day. I will be out cold, not dreaming... wait, do you dream when you are under? don't remember... if I do, I'm sure they will be crazy dreams.
Oh and tomorrow, if you know Meg, please send her a text of love since she has to sit there and wait ALL DAY...
And thank you all for the love and support. I send it back to you in abundance... but do me a favor, if you are next to someone turn to them, tell you love them and hug them. For me. Also, make out with them if that's appropriate. And then, because it's me talking, do a shot.
Okay, next time I'll give more tips on how not to be a cancer greenhouse. Or, maybe I'll just tell you about the KITTENS!!!
xoRobyn
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Why would you blog about breast cancer?
Because Molly told me to...no, seriously, I've been wondering about this. About why I Facebooked as well. It's true, there are lots of people I am connected through Facebook that have touched my life and who I care about... that have reached out to me and I wanted to reach back in a personal way.
Part of it is complete selfishness. I don't want to fight cancer along. I've spent too much of my life not asking for help and it's created difficult and painful situations to say the least. The other reason is for all of us... because one thing I've noticed since opening up this dialogue about breast cancer is that it has touched almost everyone I know either personally or someone they were close to. In some ways, we are all in this together.
And there was this woman in the waiting room that made me realize how we hold shame around getting an disease and fear. I was waiting in my little white robe, trying not to think about my diagnostic mamogram coming up and what they might find. I hadn't been diagnosed yet and at that time, had anxiety but didn't know what was in store for the future. But I remember this woman.
She was dressed in a neat and pressed suit and sat in this room to gather her things. She got out her phone and dialed and it looked like she was almost holding her breath. She told who I assumed was her husband that they have to schedule a surgery and she wanted to figure out when was the best time. She listened for awhile, expressionless and then said "well of course, I can schedule it after we come back." She listened more. Then she gave some obligatory "okay"'s then hung up.
And then her body just kind of slumped. Her eyes unfocused and she just sat there, her phone in her hand, her legs sort of turned into each other, like the way a fourteen year old tomboy might sit when no one is watching. Her eyes softened and something washed over her face that I can't even begin to describe. Sadness, fear with something like shame or defeat... I have no idea. But it broke my heart.
And then she looked straight up at me. I instinctually gave her a smile... you know the kind where you want to hug someone but you can't, so you kind of do it with your eyes and smile. In response, she pulled herself together and left, expressionless.
Now here's the thing: I have no idea who she was talking to or what was going through her mind. I could have been projecting the entire thing but it was that moment when she was lost in her thoughts and then her protective armor coming back up that stuck with me. Reminded me of all the times I tried to be something for someone else that because I thought that's what we do. We don't worry others. We don't impose on others.
So I just want to break down that wall and share what's going on with me... for me, yes. But also that maybe what I'm going through strikes a cord in you or might help you through what you might be experiencing. And I am learning as much as I can about my cancer and the connection of mind, body and spirit. I want to share with you what I'm learning so you might be able to not go through what I am.
Either way, thanks for joining me. And thank you for your love and support.
Next blog: How not to become a greenhouse for Breast Cancer
Part of it is complete selfishness. I don't want to fight cancer along. I've spent too much of my life not asking for help and it's created difficult and painful situations to say the least. The other reason is for all of us... because one thing I've noticed since opening up this dialogue about breast cancer is that it has touched almost everyone I know either personally or someone they were close to. In some ways, we are all in this together.
And there was this woman in the waiting room that made me realize how we hold shame around getting an disease and fear. I was waiting in my little white robe, trying not to think about my diagnostic mamogram coming up and what they might find. I hadn't been diagnosed yet and at that time, had anxiety but didn't know what was in store for the future. But I remember this woman.
She was dressed in a neat and pressed suit and sat in this room to gather her things. She got out her phone and dialed and it looked like she was almost holding her breath. She told who I assumed was her husband that they have to schedule a surgery and she wanted to figure out when was the best time. She listened for awhile, expressionless and then said "well of course, I can schedule it after we come back." She listened more. Then she gave some obligatory "okay"'s then hung up.
And then her body just kind of slumped. Her eyes unfocused and she just sat there, her phone in her hand, her legs sort of turned into each other, like the way a fourteen year old tomboy might sit when no one is watching. Her eyes softened and something washed over her face that I can't even begin to describe. Sadness, fear with something like shame or defeat... I have no idea. But it broke my heart.
And then she looked straight up at me. I instinctually gave her a smile... you know the kind where you want to hug someone but you can't, so you kind of do it with your eyes and smile. In response, she pulled herself together and left, expressionless.
Now here's the thing: I have no idea who she was talking to or what was going through her mind. I could have been projecting the entire thing but it was that moment when she was lost in her thoughts and then her protective armor coming back up that stuck with me. Reminded me of all the times I tried to be something for someone else that because I thought that's what we do. We don't worry others. We don't impose on others.
So I just want to break down that wall and share what's going on with me... for me, yes. But also that maybe what I'm going through strikes a cord in you or might help you through what you might be experiencing. And I am learning as much as I can about my cancer and the connection of mind, body and spirit. I want to share with you what I'm learning so you might be able to not go through what I am.
Either way, thanks for joining me. And thank you for your love and support.
Next blog: How not to become a greenhouse for Breast Cancer
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Hey Cancer, you picked the wrong Bitch!
So..... you know, I thought about this a lot and talked with my girl. What do you do when you get diagnosed with breast cancer when it comes to your friends who are far away. It seems weird to Facebook about it about but then, this place has also allowed me to stay in touch with so many people in a unique way. And, as I'm finding out very quickly, so many women and men have had breast cancer touch their lives that it can only enrich all of ours to share knowledge and stories about how we overcome the challenges of life..
And here's the thing: I am classically someone who doesn't ask for help... ever. Ask anyone who knows me, it's sadly true. So, as I prepare to kick breast cancer's ass, I am doing something different. I am asking for help. I'm asking for love.
Not just for me, but for my beautiful wife and everyone who is touched with a great challenge that rocks your very foundation and is a call to action. I will take all the love I can get so, yes, send it my way... good vibes, actual hugs, kittens...( never mind, played the cancer card and got Meg to agree to a kitten... HEY, I should get something cool out of this besides being a kick ass survivor)
And love everyone around you. I've also been struggling recently with some other issues of the heart and character and I realized that we can rationalize all we want why we do the things we do and how others have done this or that. But really what it comes down to in my opinion is how we love ourselves and how we love those around us. And it's never too late to become that person you want to be.
Someone I know said something really smart... love expands and fear divides. It's true and that happens between people but also within ourselves. So do me another favor, love yourself. Love your imperfect, completely contradictory, incredibly fragile but amazing strong self.
Meg and I are going to start of page for all of us to share anything we want to regarding challenges we go through, changes we make in our lives, people who have beat great odds, etc. And I will be taking names for my kitten too... oh, by the way, I want two but Meg says I can't get another one til I am cancer free for a year... done and done!
Peace and love to you all...
Robyn
And here's the thing: I am classically someone who doesn't ask for help... ever. Ask anyone who knows me, it's sadly true. So, as I prepare to kick breast cancer's ass, I am doing something different. I am asking for help. I'm asking for love.
Not just for me, but for my beautiful wife and everyone who is touched with a great challenge that rocks your very foundation and is a call to action. I will take all the love I can get so, yes, send it my way... good vibes, actual hugs, kittens...( never mind, played the cancer card and got Meg to agree to a kitten... HEY, I should get something cool out of this besides being a kick ass survivor)
And love everyone around you. I've also been struggling recently with some other issues of the heart and character and I realized that we can rationalize all we want why we do the things we do and how others have done this or that. But really what it comes down to in my opinion is how we love ourselves and how we love those around us. And it's never too late to become that person you want to be.
Someone I know said something really smart... love expands and fear divides. It's true and that happens between people but also within ourselves. So do me another favor, love yourself. Love your imperfect, completely contradictory, incredibly fragile but amazing strong self.
Meg and I are going to start of page for all of us to share anything we want to regarding challenges we go through, changes we make in our lives, people who have beat great odds, etc. And I will be taking names for my kitten too... oh, by the way, I want two but Meg says I can't get another one til I am cancer free for a year... done and done!
Peace and love to you all...
Robyn
Monday, March 29, 2010
Bright Star: Vermeer and a different time
Just saw the Jane Campion film "Bright Star" and was so taken by the cinematography of Greig Frazer. Reminded me of some of the gorgeous Vermeer paintings... so atmospheric and true to the period of the 1800's where all light sources were still candles, the sun and the moon.
Campion is so good at placing you right there with the characters... whether it's eye level with the lavender on ground or an over head of John Keat's bathing in the sun on the tree-tops. The movie was as beautiful as Keat's poetry is. Abbie Cornish and Ben Whishaw gave raw but understated performances that fit so well with the feel of the film.
I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live back in a time where communication was either in person or by letter (which could take months if you were in another country.) I am completely socially inept most of the time (just look at some of the pictures of me, I look like I'm four)... and even more inept in speaking my mind in person when the stakes are really high.
Maybe that's why I love these kind of period pieces where it's all the look or a touch that can say what you can't. And in the case of filmmaking, a well placed candle or light... a slightly off balance frame or deep focused close up.
Campion is so good at placing you right there with the characters... whether it's eye level with the lavender on ground or an over head of John Keat's bathing in the sun on the tree-tops. The movie was as beautiful as Keat's poetry is. Abbie Cornish and Ben Whishaw gave raw but understated performances that fit so well with the feel of the film.
I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live back in a time where communication was either in person or by letter (which could take months if you were in another country.) I am completely socially inept most of the time (just look at some of the pictures of me, I look like I'm four)... and even more inept in speaking my mind in person when the stakes are really high.
Maybe that's why I love these kind of period pieces where it's all the look or a touch that can say what you can't. And in the case of filmmaking, a well placed candle or light... a slightly off balance frame or deep focused close up.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
40 mules and 40 extras
Okay, we don't actually need mules but we today's casting adventure on this Bollywood film. 20 kids, 20 parents and 6 buff guys in super hero costumes...
This is all for a dance sequence which we are scheduled to film at Pier 39 on Thursday. It's Tuesday.
We had those kids in New York ready to go, and then the blizzard happened.
Welcome to Bollywood my friends!
This is all for a dance sequence which we are scheduled to film at Pier 39 on Thursday. It's Tuesday.
We had those kids in New York ready to go, and then the blizzard happened.
Welcome to Bollywood my friends!
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