it's in the genes.

So...I went to the student health center here for my foot the other day, and it was less than ideal. Mainly because the doctor was more concerned with the computer and everything else except for the patient. I think the actual physical exam was less than 5 minutes. Which was especially disappointing because he was a DO. I understand that he's not a specialist and that I needed a referral for an orthopedic doc - but that doesn't mean you don't give your patient your attention and basic respect and consideration.

And of course, they had to get my family health history - although we fill out all those forms before getting here - don't they enter all that info into the computers? Shouldn't it already be there? Anyway. He asked about family members and cancer....and I told him about my grandfather's lung cancer, my grandmother's breast cancer and my aunt's ovarian cancer. And that's when he finally looked at me and was like, breast and ovarian cancer? I said yes, and then he asked if they were on the same side of the family, and I said no, and explained the situation. And granted, this is probably projection, especially since my aunt's experience is still so fresh, but I swear I could practically see the thought bubble over his head that said, oh man, girl, you are FUCKED. Yes. I know this is projection. But having worked in the ob/gyn field and oncology field, I know that my family history is not ideal. Especially since I am an Ashkenazi Jew. But, we do not have a BRCA mutation that we know of, and the diseases were on opposite sides of the family, including the Roman Catholic side. But still. It's a little hard not to worry, because it just doesn't sound good when you tell it to a health professional. Less than a month and half after my aunt's death, that horrific experience is still being replayed in my mind's eye, and I will do anything I can not to be in a similar situation. So how do people do this? How do those with breast and ovarian cancer in their families not think about it and obsess over it? Regular screenings, taking care of yourself, and maybe even preventative surgeries. But it's a lot to think about.

I feel like I'm getting to an age where I'm suddenly not "too young" for things anymore. I mean, Jesus - in 4 years I will be "advanced maternal age" when I get pregnant (which is total bullshit, but whatever - how come they don't call teens and immature 20somethings who get pregnant "too young to know what you're doing age"?), and in less than 10 years I will start getting mammograms. Being a Type-A personality, working in the field and watching numerous friends and family members deal with cancer would make anyone a little anxious.

Book Review: Healing with Words

Writers are known for over-analyzing their lives and obsessing. So what does a writer do when diagnosed with breast cancer? She took out her journal and put words on the page. Diana Raab, a nurse, was diagnosed wtih DCIS at the age of forty-seven. Five years later, she was also diagnosed with multiple myeloma. I was lucky enough to get a review copy of Diana Raab's book Healing with Words: A Writer's Cancer Journey, and devoured it in two sittings. This book chronicles her story, along with journal entries, poems and pages of writing prompts for the reader. Through the stunned shock of an unexpected diagnosis, to the decision to have a mastectomy and reconstruction and her healing journey, Raab pulls no punches. Her unflinching willingness to share her feelings about the process lends an intimacy to the story and makes it an engrossing read. She was helped by her surgeon, who sounds like the type of surgeon that seems to be found all too rarely - one who truly loves his job and cares for his patients deeply. He actually suggested she write a journal about her experience and feelings, and send it to him. It was exactly what she needed. In her epilogue, Raab dares to admit something many cancer memoirs tend to minimize -- she struggles. Physically, emotionally, and psychologically. But she continues to write, which in turn helps her to heal; it is a necessity, like breathing. Despite her struggles, she makes the choice over and over to live her life. She even quotes the Nietzsche quote that is tattooed on my back: "That which does not kill us makes us stronger." Raab has chosen to reframe her situation, and see her cancer experiences as turning points that, in her words, "set you free to fulfill or examine dreams that can no longer wait....It is about understanding what you really want in life...." With multiple pages of writing prompts, quotes, and breast cancer resources, this is an interactive book that encourages its readers to examine their own lives or cancer journeys. It is a cancer memoir that connects readers without being preachy or full of pink, and is simply real. And that is the best thing of all about it. Buy the book on Amazon or visit the author's website.

Elizabeth Edwards.

Elizabeth Edwards passed away today, at the age of 61. I was lucky enough to hear her speak at the 2006 Lance Armstrong Foundation Summit on Survivorship, and she was amazing. She handled adversity with class and grace, and remained composed in the toughest of situations. While I am sad that she died, I find myself growing irritated with comments I'm reading on Facebook, about how it "shouldn't have ended this way". We can all agree that cancer takes too many lives too soon. But let me frame it another way: her doctors broke the news last week to her that further chemotherapy treatments would be unproductive. She spent the last several days pain-free, in her own home, surrounded by the people she loves, friends and family. Wouldn't we ALL like to die that way? Instead, too many people opt for painful treatments when they are not likely to work - a recent article said that patients spend the most money, treatment-wise, in the last 3 months of their lives, on invasive treatments that add little to no benefit. Elizabeth Edwards's doctors were compassionate and courageous enough to tell her that their options had run out and prevent her from going through unnecessary physical and emotional demands. They did not let ego or the relentless "fighting against disease" sway them and tell her to keep going with chemo.

Anyway...it's been a long day and my brain is exhausted, but I just needed to vent. Here's an excerpt from a message she posted on Facebook yesterday:

"The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human...."

Previvors

Do you know what a previvor is? It is someone who does not have cancer, but who is at higher risk of cancer because of a strong family history or because of a genetic mutation. Dina Roth Port has writen a book about five women who are previvors and have a patchwork of breast and/or ovarian cancer running through their families. When I found out about this book, I was lucky enough to have a copy sent to me, and wanted to review it on my blog.

In this book, each woman tells her story of how the different cancers affected their decisions to get tested and their subsequent decisions. More importantly, the book describes options previvors have, what each option entails, and what an individual can expect, with surgical decisions, genetic testing, disease surveillance, breast reconstruction, body image and sexuality issues post-cancer, fertility, and how to tell your children. The book is a comprehensive how-to guide with personal journeys woven into the narrative, which makes it feel like you are talking with girlfriends about their personal decisions and concerns.

Personally, as someone with now breast and ovarian cancer in my family, but no known mutation, I found this book incredibly helpful. When the time comes, if need be, I will think about my options and what each path would mean for me. Right now, at the age of almost-30, this book helped dissipate some of the fear that I have of getting breast or ovarian cancer, and provided an informative, personal and empowering book to read and learn from.

Go to the book's website to learn more about the author and the previvors, and to learn how to order your copy.

think before you pink, PLEASE.

It's October. Breast Cancer Awareness Month....in case you missed it, despite the commercials, pink ribbons adorning everything from potato chips to wine (ironic, since even one drink a day raises your risk of breast cancer), and the senseless Facebook status updates. I am all for raising awareness. But we are aware of breast cancer. Ask women what the symptoms of ovarian cancer are, and a lot less women will know that. Or colon cancer. Or thyroid. Or pancreatic. Or, hell, the number one killer of women - heart disease. A lot less women will know all of those symptoms.

We still don't have screening tools for many cancers. Our treatments are extremely toxic, no matter what cancer we're talking about. A lot of misinformation is still out there.

And don't even get me started on those "I heart boobies" bracelets and "Save the ta-tas". It's similar to the infantilizing Barbara Ehrenreich talks about in her "Welcome to Cancerland" essay, with the stuffed animals with pink ribbons on them. The "boobies" and "ta-tas" breast cancer stuff objectifies women's bodies, and once again, places our bodies as something for others to look at. What, did these kids who wear them not care about breast cancer before, but because it says "boobies", it's cool? Women are more than breasts; the focus should be on women's health, and not "saving the ta-tas". It sexualizes an issue, and in the end, has a degrading tone (in my opinion).

Breast Cancer Action put together the Think Before You Pink campaign, and it's worth a look. Find out how much money is actually being given to the cause, and to what organizations and programs. Komen may be the bully of breast cancer, but many other organizations are out there - Bright Pink, FORCE, and others. Find out just how much these organizations are doing for breast cancer, and for which population - does most money go to younger women, or older? High risk women or metastatic?

Don't get me wrong - pink is one of my favorite colors, and I am guilty of having pink ribboned things. But if you want to make a difference, donate to the organization directly. Do BSE. Make sure you and other women in your life get clinical breast exams and mammograms, if necessary. Let's talk about triple-negative breast cancer and inflammatory breast cancer; cancers that don't respond to hormones or have lumps. Talk openly about reconstruction and even the choice NOT to have breast reconstruction. Let's destigmatize prophylactic mastectomies and refuse to live in fear. All of this will do much more for breast cancer than buying a bag of chips with a pink ribbon on it.

umm....fact check.

So, I was reading people.com and stumbled across Elizabeth Edwards' interview. Apparently her cancer has metastasized more, with tumors in her legs, spine and skull. Breast cancer most often metastasizes to the bones, brain, lungs or liver. But what got me was what she said...."It's less frightening than you think; it can't migrate to your brain." I am hoping she meant literally move from the skull to the brain, because breast cancer can certainly metastasize to your brain. I have had the good fortune to meet this woman, and she is really lovely. She is an amazing woman, and I am sad to hear that she has more bone mets. I actually think she gets treatment here at UNC.

onco-semitism?

I don't know how many of you have heard the latest thing buzzing about Komen? You can read about it here. They are helping to sponsor a bunch of breast cancer conferences/events in Egypt, for scientists in the Middle East, and the Egyptian Minister of Health has rescinded all the invites issued to Israeli doctors. The ADL put out a press release urging Komen to condemn the action, and so far, Komen has been silent. This is disgraceful. Where are all the Jewish groups speaking up? Where are all the feminist groups speaking up?

Komen, I am disappointed in you, more than I have been in the past...this is a new low.

i'm beginning to really hate the color teal.

I haven't really been blogging, and most of the time, it's because I'm not even sure how to form words to express what I am feeling. Yesterday it finally hit me (yes, it took that long to REALLY hit me) how bad my aunt's cancer is. It's pretty freakin' bad. I operate like this: when something bad happens like this, I go on autopilot - I start researching, making phone calls and connections, figuring out what needs to be done. When there is nothing more to be done, the intellectualizing and depersonalizing stops, and emotion finally surfaces. And that's what has finally happened.

Like I did when my grandmother had breast cancer, I am praying and sending a guided imagery cd and cards, but it's frustrating not to do more, all over again. It is so painful to watch events unfold and feel in my heart that an altered outcome would have happened had different decisions been made in this whole situation. We aren't talking cure, or even possibly remission. I'm talking a few more months, or the possibility of a clinical trial, or even optimal debulking, at this point. I'm talking about giving her the best possible chances, given the situation; the best possible prognostic indicators. I'm talking about the realities of the limitations of chemotherapy and the balance with quality of life. Palliation versus treatment. I am struggling with accepting the decisions that have been made. I don't understand them, but I am struggling to respect them. It is hard work. It makes me wonder if I can really work in this field......how will I react when a patient and their family chooses a course of action I strongly disagree with? Maybe since they're not family, it would be different. It likely would be very different, but it worries me. How do we evaluate decisions when it's a lose-lose situation? In your medical ethics classes and patient advocacy classes, you can debate this all you want. When you're faced with it in real life, when someone you love is the patient in question, all of that ceases to matter. Decisions aren't black and white, and sometimes, not even grey. Sometimes there is no right answer, and maybe there isn't any answer at all.

When am I going to learn that I cannot save people? That I am not Supergirl, that I cannot "fix" things. Sometimes I think that's what draws me to being an oncologist - "fixing" things. Go in, remove what's wrong, and it's "fixed". For some reason I think being an oncologist would be less hard on me emotionally, rather than being an oncology nurse.

September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness month, ironically. Teal ribbons will be everywhere. Last year, when my grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer, it was October, and Breast Cancer Awareness month. Oh, the irony.

I am rereading a book that I'd read years ago - "help me live: 20 things people with cancer want you to know". I was lucky enough to "friend" the author on facebook recently - although I didn't realize at all who she was at the time - and decided to reread it. I would say these guidelines even apply to loved ones of the patients...as in, when I tell you my aunt has ovarian cancer, and you know about my grandmother's breast cancer, please do not get a stricken look on your face followed by pity. Do not assume I have a BRCA mutation running amok in my family, or even a HBOC (hereditary breast and ovarian cancer) issue. I worry about that enough for both of us, I don't need the reminder. When I tell you about my aunt being in the hospital for a few more weeks, please do not say to me "Do you really think she'll leave the hospital?" (Yes, horrendously enough, someone said that to me this week). Don't think that because I am living my life as usual that it's not on my mind. It is on my mind when I wake up, and it is the reason I can't fall asleep. It's okay to ask me about it. Otherwise, it's a big teal elephant following me around. And that just cramps my style.

Randoms: check out Teal Toes for ovarian cancer awareness! If you get pedicures, get your nails painted teal next month! When people ask you about it, tell them about the early symptoms of the disease.

I am still raising money for the Avon Breast Cancer Walk.....not sure if I will actually walk, do crew, or even be able to GO, but I'd like to raise as much money as I can. Please let me know if you're interested and I can send you the link! Thank you!

my next tattoo.

I want this to be my next tattoo. It's the MSKCC symbol, surrounded by the breast cancer ribbon and the ovarian cancer ribbon. Right now, this sums up my life, my interests, my passions, and everything important to me and who I have become. Now I just need the money to get this done! (And figure out where I would get it).

just another summer day

Life has a funny way of working out. I'm not going to discuss specifics, but I got an interesting phone call about a possible job in NYC the day I moved into my new place here in NC. I then had a surprise phone interview yesterday and I'm waiting to hear about an in-person interview. Craziness. 

I'm watching Wimbledon right now, and it always reminds me of high school summers -- I'd watch Wimbledon in early/mid-summer, and usually the US Open coincided with tennis tryouts, so I'd come home from tryouts/practice and watch tennis. I would measure my summers by tennis. When my dad got home from work, we'd go to the tennis courts and play a few sets, and then I'd run the lines. Summer has always been intertwined with my racquet getting re-strung, buying a new grip cover, and popping open new cans of tennis balls. I still love tennis as much as I did, although I don't get to play nearly as much. But that feeling of being back on the court, thwacking a two-handed backhand.....losing myself in the flow of the game....the tennis court was somewhere I was confident, I was in my element. In the midst of confusion, it was a refuge. Tennis just clicks for me. I miss it a lot. 

In the wake of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett's passing, someone also worth mentioning is Dr.Jerri Nielsen Fitzgerald. She was the doctor who was in Antarctica and diagnosed and biopsied her own breast cancer. I read her book, Ice Bound, which tells her amazing story. She had chemo airlifted and sent to her, and her cancer went into remission, but returned 5 years later, and metastasized to her liver, bones, and brain. She was only 57, and died last week as well. 

When I hear things like that, and think of everyone I know who has been diagnosed, it just reminds me why I am pursuing oncology. But if I get this job....I might have to put that to rest. I'd still be working in oncology....but not as a physician. It brings up a lot of tough choices and lots of emotion. 

hitting a wall.

I want this Jeep. It's a Lilly Pulitzer Jeep Wrangler. How prep-tastic is this??

So. It's been a week of applying to jobs, soul-searching, nannying, and sleeping. It's getting discouraging, the whole job situation. I am still waiting about MSKCC and calling the HR woman this week, and I've looked at Georgetown's cancer center and Northwestern. I applied for a position at UNC today that sounds neat, and hopefully it will lead to something. I'm just struggling to find my place right now. And so are many of those in my cohort, so I don't feel so bad - because I know how amazing everyone is, and how lucky employers would be to hire us. I've been thinking a lot lately about my life here in Chapel Hill and how much I love it, but I was also reminded today about how I loved living in Manhattan last summer. I was watching "The City", and it reminded me of when I'd leave my apt and walk to the 96th st subway in the already-stifling humid morning air, feeling confident in my clothes and excited to go to work. Every day I could honestly say I loved my job. How many people can say that? So why am I so ambivalent about the possibility of returning?? How many people honestly ever say no to MSKCC? It's an amazing place. I left every day exhausted and spent, but inspired and satisfied. Seriously, I read my journal from last summer, and nearly every entry starts with "I had the best day". I love just soaking up all that it had to offer, and I miss my coworkers and attending. I miss free Starbucks iced coffee on wednesdays with Rika. I miss gchat conversations when we were 3 cubicles away from each other. I miss Pinkberry lunches and Buttercup BakeShop obsessions and snack runs. I miss the energy of the city, the humming that seemed to infuse the pavement and electrify the environment. I miss the Barnes & Noble across the street from my office (dangerous) that opened at 7am and going there for a morning coffee and magazine browsing time. I don't miss paying $5 for a box of cereal and always feeling poor and unattractive (because living in NY has the tendency to make one immediately feel ugly and fat). 

How do I reconcile my love of the city and my love for Chapel Hill? Here my life is so much more relaxed, that's a given. I don't feel pressure to "be" a certain way, or dress a certain way. People are nicer, life is affordable, I love my neighborhood....I don't know. The two seem at odds with each other, and I'm not sure I can resolve it. I mean, I wear a sterling silver 5th Ave charm around my neck! Its weight reminds me every time I wear it of Manhattan and my connections to the city. 

But I've been obsessing over MSKCC for nearly 5 years now. Working there last summer has been the highlight of my life, to date. Working there full-time....would be what I've been waiting for and working towards. So it's a lot to think about. 

There is a girl I went to high school with, J, and lately she's been on my mind a lot. After we graduated high school, she had breast cancer at the age of 19 and went through treatment, etc. Recently she was diagnosed with a recurrence, at the age of 29. She just had a bilateral mastectomy - mandatory on one side, prophylactic on the other, with tissue expanders, and eventually, reconstruction. And then chemo/rtx. This terrifies and angers me. It terrifies me because how could this possibly happen to someone my age?? And yet it angers me because....how could this possibly happen to someone my age? The questions are the same, and I keep running up against a wall when I try to search for some answers. Faith provides no comfort, medicine provides no acceptable explanations. I'm not sure what I would do if I were faced with her situation. Although I had come to the decision a few months ago that if my grandmother was positive for the BRCA gene, and I turned out to be positive, I would elect to have a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. Thankfully, I do not have to make such a decision, because my grandmother was negative. But that's not to say that, G-d forbid, I won't have to make that decision in the future at some point. 

I don't know....I was thinking about this the other night. I don't want to sound like a traitor, but when do we stop fooling ourselves? Like with certain Stage IV cancers, when do we stop fighting and start palliating? Of course, this is a per-patient decision, but on a larger scale....survivorship. I'm interested in the field, I've worked in the field....sometimes it just seems cruel. Sometimes I want to scream, SHOW ME A LONG-TERM SURVIVOR OF GLIOBLASTOMA MULTIFORME WITH A DECENT LIFE when confronted with a survivor of GBM that's 1 or 2 years post-dx. Maybe I'm just in a pessimistic mood tonight, but right now, I feel like we are NOT winning the so-called "war on cancer". And maybe we never will. But damnit, why are the drugs still so toxic? Why are the surgeries still so disfiguring? Why do we not have better screening? Why are there such still disparities among populations? Why are some cancers virtually ignored, while others get money thrown at them with abandon? It is this anger that propels me into the field of oncology. This anger is that voice in the back of my head saying, don't you dare waste this passion for oncology, don't you DARE. This anger stems from watching friends and family deal with cancer and die from cancer. This anger makes me want to do something, it reminds me that there's still so much that needs to be done. 

Stage IV

I guess since I'm all done with classes and I'm being lazy, I'll probably blog a lot more. Plus, a lot has been on my mind this semester and I just haven't had the time to write as much as I wanted to. Last week I turned in my Master's Paper, and it got to the point where I was like, enough with the damn cancer. But at the same time, I love oncology. I struggle to find that balance, of loving my work but not letting it consume me and define me. I also struggle with finding hope on a daily basis, in oncology. Are we making strides? Yes. But there is still so much pain and hurt and suffering in it. Adolescents and young adults are the ONLY age group in which cancer survival rates have not increased. 1 in 8 women will still get breast cancer in her lifetime. We still put people through living hell for a bone marrow/stem-cell transplant. Kids still die. Which leads me to this....A good friend of mine, whom I met through the Lance Armstrong Foundation's Summit, was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer, after being cancer free for 17 years. Stage IV. There is no stage V. We cannot cure stage IV breast cancer, only control it. While I am so glad to be there for her, since many people who aren't in the field don't like talking about cancer so candidly (she's also in the field), sometimes it is also hard for me to hear her say things like, "Only about 15% of Stage IV breast cancer patients are alive 5 years after diagnosis", or "My doctor said he's basically buying me time for a few years, and hopefully there'll be something new out." Excuse my language, but fuck that shit. This is 2009. I should not be having this conversation. We need better ways of treating "terminal" cancers, better ways of everything with this. I can't even form thoughts in a coherent way when I think about this, because it's so different than anything I've dealt with. Ever. She's only 54. She should die in her 90s, of old age. Not be on chemopreventative drugs and radiation for the rest of her life. How do we, as people in oncology, as advocates, as physicians, as therapists, help these patients and their families and friends and loved ones? Why is Stage IV cancer still so damn scary? Don't give me lines like 'we have tamoxifen and herceptin and arimidex and aromasin...' - I'm fully aware of what the options are. I'm also fully aware that they might stop working in women, that this does not replace a cure, or better treatments that give better quality of life and aren't so damaging to other parts of the body. 

As someone in the oncology field, I'm not immune to the terror that goes through your veins when you hear Stage IV. I, too, have avoided thinking about Stage IV patients and what it means in general.....until now. That was before. This is after. After is about trying to find a kernel of hope and wrapping it in my fist, hoping it doesn't slip through my fingers. After is about listening to my friend and her fears and concerns, even if it means I get off the phone and cry. And after is definitely about not giving up in oncology, and being part of the change that I hope is on the horizon.

a different point of view

It's funny how things can change depending on your viewpoint. When I was at the car place yesterday paying for the new sensor thing I got, I had placed my book, Principles and Practice of Pediatric Oncology, on the table, and the guy working there was like, "Man, that's terrible", gesturing to my book. And I explained that, no, it's not terrible - kids are kids, and sick kids aren't so different from healthy kids in many ways. 

Driving home, I was talking to my grandmother and she was telling me about her lymphedema sleeve that she recently got. And I know she's very frustrated and disappointed about having lymphedema, which is totally understandable. She said, "I thought I would be one of the lucky ones. But I guess I wasn't." And I thought about it and said, "No, you are one of the lucky ones. Your cancer was caught early, it didn't metastasize to even the lymph nodes, your surgery was successful - you were, you ARE one of the lucky ones." And I'm not an overly optimistic Pollyanna, as many of you know - especially when it comes to health issues, sometimes I can be a little too blunt - but I honestly have come to look at things differently. I think in order to survive in oncology, I've had to do that. 

1 in 40

1 in 40 Ashkenazi Jewish women carry a BRCA mutation that puts them at higher risk of breast and/or ovarian cancer. 1 in 40. To me, that's an astoundingly large number. It's also scary as hell. Getting genetic testing is a very personal choice, and one that carries both risks and benefits - the question is, which one outweighs the other for each individual woman? There's an organization, FORCE (Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered), which is dedicated to improving the lives of women dealing with hereditary breast and ovarian cancer. They coined the term "previvor", which is someone who knows their risk and has taken steps to reduce their risk. I'm not sure how I feel about that term, but I think the organization is an excellent one. 

Kay Yow, part 2

As I blogged about this past weekend, NC State's women's basketball coach Kay Yow passed away from breast cancer on Saturday, and here in Carolina, it's a pretty big deal. There's a memorial ceremony being broadcast on Friday, and Hoops for Hope (which she was helping to advertise) will occur in early February, and this time, it will be a celebration of her life. I think it's important to honor everything she did (she was a coach for the USA women's basketball team in the 1988 Seoul Olympics, among many other things), but I just hate the "battle" imagery they use. Like, "she lost her battle". She didn't lose anything. She fought like hell for 20 years. She managed her cancer for 20 years and coached lots of players. She got 20 more years with her family, while being able to have a happy and productive life, and had good quality of life. She didn't lose. 

Nike.com has several products whose proceeds go to the Kay Yow/WBCA (women's basketball coaches association) Cancer Fund. On February 1, the "think pink" collection will debut, with sneakers and clothes, among other things. I am currently fiending for a pair of pink basketball sneakers and the pink t-shirt. So maybe, wouldn't it be nice, when all the Valentine's day stuff starts being shoved down our throats, that we ignore all the Hallmark Holiday paraphenalia, and buy some pink things that actually help other people? You have to wear t-shirts and sneakers anyway - why not buy things that are for a good cause? Or donate to a cancer fund or organization in your loved one's honor/memory. Or volunteer your time Valentine's day weekend at a hospital, make Valentines for kids who are in the hospital....or simply hug those you love and tell them you're happy they're alive. 

Kay Yow

Kay Yow, NC State's women's basketball coach, passed away yesterday morning from a recurrence of her breast cancer. When I had read about her story a month or so ago, I knew it had to be pretty bad (she also took a leave of absence from coaching), but I certainly didn't expect it to be so fast. This just sucks. 

giving thanks

So here I am, in NJ for Thanksgiving, and thinking about all the things I am grateful for in the past year. Oddly, I'm also thinking about Eve Carson. It was her birthday last Wednesday, and I just keep thinking, what are her parents doing? How are they surviving, day to day? What are the holidays like for them this year? How do they wake up every day? It strikes me as incredibly heart-wrenching. This is a young woman who should not have had her life taken from her at such a young age - especially not in the brutal way that she did. I often wonder what she was doing last year, and whether she would have ever thought she wouldn't live to the next Thanksgiving. In my Research Methods class, one group did a project on students' perceptions of safety, and one of my friends mentioned the "Eve Carson effect" on our perceptions of how safe we are in Chapel Hill. Without even having to discuss it, we all knew what she meant by that. And that made me very sad. So much can change in a year, a month, a day, an hour. As Joan Didion wrote in The Year of Magical Thinking, life changes in the instant, the ordinary instant. Which is why I am grateful and thankful for so much this year, especially all the little things. 

I am thankful for: my blood family. my "chosen" family. the health of people I love. friends. mentors. my wonderful baby nephew (who will always be a baby to me, no matter how old he gets!). sunshine. warm sheets and cold pillows. smiles. phone calls from long distance friends. gingerbread lattes on cold days. the warm golden amber of autumn leaves. serendipity. synchronicity. good books. breakfasts with Morgan. faith. hope. courage. the wonderful kids I babysit for and have babysat for - Luke, MJ, Rachel, Bryce, Chase, Harrison, Pilar. gummy toothless smiles and incoherent phone calls from these kids. hugs. kindness. prayer. life. the wonderful summer full of opportunities I had at MSKCC. the amazing people I met at Memorial, including my supervisor. all the bloggers and people I've met through blogspot. 

On a lighter note, everyone should pick up the December issue of Elle magazine. I am in it! I reviewed books for them and my book review got printed! So go out now, and buy it, please. Also, if you want to donate to my Avon Breast Cancer 2-Day Walk, please let me know - in less than a month, I have raised $250, but I need to raise at least $1800 -- my goal is to raise as much as I possibly can, though. 

I wish everyone a very happy and healthy thanksgiving! 

Let's Raise Money!!!

I know it's the holiday season, and the economy is going down the tubes for the most part, but I just signed up for the Avon 2-Day Walk for Breast Cancer, in Charlotte, NC. It's not until October 2009, but I have to raise $1800 to walk. My goal is to surpass that and raise as much  money as I possibly can. I like this better than Komen, because it's more hands-on and the goals of the Avon Foundation seem to be much more action and community oriented, rather than self-serving, like Komen. 

So....why am I posting this? I wanted to post a link to my personal page. You can donate if you'd like, and anything is appreciated. I'd really appreciate it as well if you could send the link to anyone you know who might be interested in donating. Cancer affects everyone, and until there's a 2-Day walk for general cancer awareness, I have to be satisfied with this. 

Please go to my page!

Thank you so much!!! Help me raise money!

saturday afternoon....

Trey and Aunt Jaime

Trey, hitting the bottle

Maybe I'm biased, but is this not the cutest picture EVER? 

I just wanted to thank everyone who wished my grandmother and my family good luck, and kept us in their thoughts and prayers - she did wonderfully with the surgery. She hasn't even taken any pain medicine since the day of! She is quite the fighter. She was discharged Wednesday, is glad to be home, and is doing well. We got the wonderful news yesterday that her lymph nodes were free of cancer, and we should know the full pathology report on Tuesday, when she gets the drains out. Needless to say, we are all relieved and pleased with the outcome so far. 

In a little while I will be heading out to a birthday party.....at Gymboree. For 17 three year olds. Yeah. I love kids, but if I ever want to have kids after a birthday party like this, it will be a miracle! I went to Babies R Us and Baby Gap earlier, for a present for my old roommate's baby, and for gift wrap for L's bday. You know it's bad when you DON'T have kids and yet you STILL have a Babies R Us rewards card on your key ring. I managed to get my nephew a really cute rugby shirt on sale at Baby Gap. It's only been a week, but I miss him so much. It's still a novel thing, having this little kid in my family. I love being an aunt. And to think that one day, he will be a cousin to my kids....that blows my mind.  

faith and hope

Love her or hate her, Sarah Palin does make some good points. I was watching a clip of her this morning talking with Greta Van Susteren, and she said something about faith, in response to Greta asking her about whether she's running in 2012. And she said that faith is important to her, and when she prays, she asks G-d to help her see open doors, even if they're open just a crack. She said that she might plow through the door, or go through it prematurely, but she just doesn't want to miss the door. That really resonated with me. She might make mistakes, but she doesn't want to miss any opportunities. That makes a ton of sense. 

In other news, my grandmother is recovering very well from her mastectomy. The surgeon did find some hard lymph nodes, which he removed, but we won't know the pathology until friday. Overall, I am pretty satisfied with the surgeon. At first, I thought he was a pompous ass, but after the surgery, when he sat down with us and spoke with us, I liked him. You'd be surprised at how differently doctors treat you when they know you've worked at MSKCC. And that you actually know something about cancer. 

Thank you everyone for your thoughts and prayers, my family and I really appreciate it.