I (heart) Orla Kiely

Okay, enough blogging about politics....back to cancer, finding a job, and overanalyzing my life. You know, the fun stuff. 

I'm realizing that I need to start packing my house up....like, for serious. I have no idea how I am going to move my bed and mattress. Granted, it's literally right up the street in my neighborhood, but still. Anyone wanna come help? And I have to get situated all over again. 

I'm sort of excited, though.....graduation weekend, my mom and my grandparents and I went to Target and got lots of Orla Kiely kitchenware. Then a few weeks ago, I went and got Orla Kiely placemats! yay! To say that I've been a little obsessed with her designs lately is a little bit of an understatement. 

                

Anyway......I had better get a job soon. I just had a bagel and a huge chocolate chip cookie for lunch. Not good. I feel like all I do is eat! Not to mention, I am seriously stressing about moving. Rent money, money to live, etc....if I get into the post-bac program I wont have any money until august....and I need money NOW. Hopefully I can get enough babysitting to hold me over. I am just one big ball of stress. Not good. But I did think of one thing that made me somewhat happy. If I do this post-bac program, and then apply to PA school, which is 2 years, it would take me the same amount of time as if I had done a PhD program starting this year. So maybe my life isn't going to hell in a handbasket. Maybe. 

a controversial and possibly alienating blog post.

You know, I try - I try - to stay out of politics now....I learned my lesson last year. But you know what, I can't do this anymore. Obama compared the "plight" of the Palestinians to that of the Holocaust. News flash: There are about six million differences why that's not true. He visits Buchenwald tomorrow, and hopefully things can be clarified for him. Though I'm not a fan of President Bush, I did like his Middle East policies. He said that the US would only engage Palestinian leaders not compromised by terror. Obama doesn't seem to agree with this. He seems to equate the moral standards of the Palestinians to those of Israelis. I'm sorry, but when was the last time you heard of an Israeli terrorist suicide bomber in the Palestinian territories? We (yes, I'm using we, I'm aware) don't strap dozens of nails to us and walk into a pizza place and blow ourselves up. We don't walk into a University cafeteria and set off a bomb that's on our vest. Rather than encouraging less settlements by Israelis, he should be encouraging the Arab world to denounce Hamas and terrorism. Maybe he should actually cross Egypt's borders and visit Israel and witness the clean-up of a suicide bomber attack. He'll see members of the Orthodox group ZAKA meticulously collecting body parts to ensure a proper Jewish burial for those killed. They also collect the body parts of non-Jews, so that their families can have a complete burial.  

Marc Thiessen, who is a former Bush speechwriter, even said this is a huge shift in US policy regarding Israel. And you know, Saturday marks 3 years since my first trip to Israel, and I'd return in a heartbeat. Yes, there is genocide all over the world, but nothing merits comparison to the Holocaust. People were shoved into gas chambers and killed, and their loved ones put their bodies in the incinerators. Those in concentration camps, when they were "lucky", used soap - but that soap was made from those who were killed. And the world watched. Since March 1933, the death camps were operating (Dachau opened then). The camp Theresienstadt, or Terezin, killed 15,000 children. And as late as 1944, the Red Cross visited the camp to see if it really was a "death camp", and the Nazis were able to fool them. And the world just watched, and read about it in the back pages of the papers. 

Where is all of this coming from?

As a Jewish woman who has had considerable religious education, I cannot adequately describe the feeling of walking through Yad V'Shem, or the DC Holocaust Museum, and having the thought, "This could have been me."  I cannot put words to looking at heaps and heaps of human hair, and glasses, and shoes, and wondering how many belonged to relatives of mine. The fact that half my family is Roman Catholic wouldn't have saved me back then. In fact, they'd probably be taken to the camps with me. I can't tell you the revulsion I felt at learning about Joseph Mengele, and imagining what my best friends' Bubbe went through at his hands when she was at Auschwitz. I grew up with the names Dachau, Auschwitz-Birkenau, Bergen-Belsen, Majdanek, Sobibor, Treblinka, among dozens of others. My kindergarten teacher showed us the numbers on her arm one day during naptime. On Yom Hashoa, we all wore golden yellow stars with "Jude" written on it, in rememberence. You don't forget these experiences, these lessons, even years and years later.  

I just had to get this off my chest. 

video.

My mom sent me this video. Heartbreaking.

tales from the 'hood...the nannyhood

The Juicy Couture Maclaren stroller....I think this may have bumped the Bugaboo as my favorite stroller....

As if my life weren't hectic and shifting enough now, the family I nannied for when I first came down here is moving. Like, moving to another state. I've known they were moving, but they leave next week! I will miss them terribly. I met them when S was pregnant with the twins, and L was almost 2. And then the twins were born 10 weeks early, and there was the 24/7 craziness of having the twins in the NICU, bringing one home, then the other one...and serendipitously, I was babysitting when each twin was brought home for the first time. Those were crazybusy days - the parents would be on the couches asleep in the living room with the twins when I got there in the morning, after being up till all hours. I don't know how they did it. And then L went through something like the "terrible 2s" and would spit food out, refuse to eat, and once, he even stabbed me in the leg with his fork. We spent many minutes sitting in time out. But then there was the night that the parents brought home a small vanilla cake and a bottle of pinot grigio for me at the end of last year, to celebrate the end of the year, not to mention the yummy PF Chang's dinner they had. I was so touched that S remembered I liked vanilla cake and white wine. This year, I wasn't able to babysit as much, because of research and school. But this family has always been in my thoughts and heart, and they will forever be entwined with me moving to Chapel Hill -- in a town where I knew no one, going to a "real home" as opposed to an apartment was a welcome respite. And the kids were always awesome. 

I've been lucky, in that respect -- I've always found really good families to work with. E and J in NJ were great, and I was actually their son's first ever babysitter! I would fall asleep on their comfy couch after putting H to bed when they would go out for dinner. M and J will always be in my life in some way, as well as their kids B and C...I have so many memories of being with them, and in many ways, they helped me get through that year. The family in my neighborhood is wonderful, and I love spending time with the kids, K and C. When I stay overnight, it doesn't even feel like work. And this new family I am babysitting for, the parents are really chill, very nice, and the kids are wonderful. The 4 year old says the funniest things - yesterday he asked me, "Are you a mom? Are you grown up?" As if the two were synonymous. Having car seats and booster seats in my car is not a novelty. It doesn't even faze me anymore. 

Of course, it's not always pink and blue and smiles and bubbles. Like today, for instance. It is HOT here right now. Like, in the 90s hot by noon. And the kids didn't really have much of a nap, so both were overtired, I think there's some sibling rivalry going on (at 10 months and 4 years), and the 4 year old fell and scraped his knee when we were playing outside. So after some damage control (cleaning the scrape and attaching a Spider-Man bandaid, then eating a Fudgsicle), we decided to stay indoors. And then the 4 year old hit the 10 month old....by the time the parents came home, I must have looked as worn out as I felt, because they joked about how I should go home and have a glass of wine. But kids will be kids, I guess. It happens. It reinforced to me just how hard taking care of kids really is. 

I am exhausted. That bottle - er, glass - of wine sounds really good right about now. 

not the most uplifting blog post

So. I have been nannying a bit, so I'm not completely destitute, but the pressure is definitely mounting. The HR lady from MSKCC called me today and said that the job posting hasn't been publicly posted yet, but when it is, they have my resume set aside and will call me to set up an interview. Well, that's super and all, but it doesn't help me right now. Nor does it really help in the immediate long-run, since I'd like to stay down here at least another year or two. 

I keep waiting for the feeling of happiness, or at least pride, to kick in, about my MPH, but it just isn't. I simply cannot muster up the enthusiasm. That's me, Debbie Downer, MPH. In many ways, I just kind of wish I could have a huge do-over. As in, go back to when I applied to undergrad as a pre-med, and actually follow that course. Right now, my life feels like a series of mistakes and regrets. Maybe I'm just having a bad day today, I don't know. I mean, in some ways, I am able to see where the path, though not linear, has stayed in the general course of medicine/healthcare/oncology, but mostly, I feel like I haven't done anything useful with my life so far. I hate feeling this way. Aaron Beck would have me do cognitive reframing, but I think I'm gonna need a lot more than that to climb this summit. 

just the balls, please.

Jerusalem

It's raining here, those glorious, thick, large rain drops that pelt against the windows and completely drench everything. Almost like a complete cleansing. I love this kind of rain. I'm still analyzing in my head the whole Manhattan vs Chapel Hill thing, and I keep thinking I really want to see my nephew soon. Ever have that feeling of wanting to just leave everything behind? Sometimes I have that urge. I'd go to Israel. I can't believe it will be 3 years on June 6 since I went on my trip. That was truly one of the best experiences of my life and has shaped who I am as an American Jewish woman. I felt instantly at home there, maybe because I speak and read Hebrew, I don't know. For some reason, I had no fear about suicide bombers - I just didn't. I loved the waterfalls of Ein Gedi, the view from the Golan Heights, the view of the Kinneret from the corridor of our hostel, the hot springs on the border of Jordan, and our Shabbat service at our Jerusalem hostel. And, of course, the Wall - the Kotel. I've blogged about this before, about my experience of going up to the wall to pray and bursting into tears. The emotions that run through you in such a holy place cannot be described. The mechitzah separated the women from the men, and to my surprise, I didn't mind. It was actually nice and peaceful on the women's side. I went to Israel with over 10 years of daily, full-time Jewish education behind me. I had gone to a private school where the morning was alloted for secular subjects, and the afternoon was Hebrew/Bible/Jewish history/Holocaust. I was no stranger to the landmarks of Israel and the stories behind them. But when I came back from Israel.....my faith was renewed. I can't describe it any other way. For weeks after coming back to the States, I was so incredibly homesick for Israel. That's really the only word for it. I still miss speaking Hebrew. I miss authentic falafel, and the feeling of being among...my people, if that makes any sense. I loved how on Fridays, everyone said "Shabbat Shalom" - to everyone. After years and years of being wished "Merry Christmas" during the holiday season (EVEN when I'm wearing my Star of David), it was nice to be wished a good shabbos. I think when things get tough here, I often return in my head to my 10 days in Israel. That trip taught me so much about myself, what I could do, what I really believed in....And of course, I got to eat amazing falafel. I would order it in Hebrew, and since I don't like any of the salad or sauce or anything in my pita, I would say, "Falafel, b'vakasha - aval, rak ha cadoorim." Which means, "Falafel, please - but just the balls." I swear to G-d. This is what one of the Israeli soldiers told me to say. And it worked. But I laughed to myself every time I said it. 

I'm reading Eat, Pray, Love right now, which could account for my Israeli nostalgia. I've been reading lots of books on faith this semester - Blue Like Jazz, Through Painted Deserts....I'm looking for a good Judaica book. Fiction, non-fiction, doesn't matter. In NC, it's kind of hard to find decent ones (shocker). 

me, stressed? never......

I have been waking up in sweats nearly every single morning since before graduation. Of course, my first thought, being an oncology person is, oh G-d it's lymphoma. But I have no lymph nodes of questionable nature, and though I am fatigued as all hell, that's pretty much par for the course. So it leads me to think I am more anxious than I realize. I also have dreams where I dream I forgot to return library books I used for my thesis and they won't let me graduate, or I messed up something or other and I won't graduate. Classic anxiety. But graduation is over, so why am I still dreaming it? 

I have a phone interview with ASCO tomorrow, and an informal in-person interview at UNC on friday. Keep your fingers crossed....I'd really love to stay here, but I have to see where life takes me, I guess. It's all so...ambiguous, my future right now. And I hate that. I like plans, organized little boxes and instructions. I don't like panicking about money or jobs or a place to live and rent and food. 

Some friends and I were talking, and many of us have taken to having a glass or two of wine in the evenings. A nightcap, courtesy of MCH, if you will. It reminds me of when I lived in FL, my roommate E would have a glass of wine at night on the days when she had her practicum. I didn't understand it until I was at Columbia for social work - my roommate, O, and I would have glasses of wine while we wrote up our progress/session notes on days we had practicum. Wednesday nights were wine and Chinese food nights, and the people at the wine store across the street knew us. Maybe not the best situation, but after interning in the areas I did, I understood E's glass of wine. I found an awesome pinot grigio, Middle Sister wines. It's just such cute packaging, and it's really smooth. For those of you who are red wine drinkers, they also have a merlot. 

I sort of feel like Carrie, from "Sex and the City", when she wants to buy her apartment that's going co-op and doesn't have the money, but realizes she has $40,000 worth of Manolos in her closet. There's a point where she wonders if she will become homeless and she wails, I will literally BE the old woman who lived in her shoes! That's sort of how I feel. I will LITERALLY be a bag lady. I'll carry all my belongings in my Marc by Marc Jacobs bag and my Vineyard Vines tote and scrounge together coins for a bagel. G-d forbid. 

If this is what being an "adult" is like, I don't think I like it very much.  

the first step.

I realize that I talk about it incessantly. I have BEEN talking about it for years now. Since 2003, to be exact, when I was at Columbia and deciding I didn't want social work. I was looking at Hopkins and Penn's post-bacs.  And yet I don't do anything about it. Well, that's changing. I am applying to the UNCG post-bac premed program. I've already sent the application, I just need to fax my transcript requests. Even just sending in the application made me feel so much better. And that mixture of relief/excitement/anticipation/settling in my heart seems like it's too significant to ignore. 

This is in the midst of new job interview opportunities...which begs the question, what would I do? 

I'm not sure. 

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. 

post-bac ponderings

How did I get here......again? My friend M was over tonight for dinner, and we were talking about what our fellow graduates were doing, and she mentioned that C, one of our classmates, mentioned something about a post-bac premed program, which was weird, because he has NEVER, ever, mentioned any interest in medicine. Ever. It's just so.....not him. But I looked at the program, UNCG (greensboro), and damn - I want to go. It's like an hour or so away (I think), and you can finish the program in 12 months, and then take MCATs and apply to med school. It's like....when I finished my MS in clinical health psych, I took a year off to work and figure out what I wanted, because I seriously was considering Bryn Mawr's or Penn's post-bac program. And at the time, I thought I was "too old" and decided to go into public health. But here I am, 3 years later, at the same place. I love medicine. I love oncology. I was talking to my friend E, who is finishing up his internship and then starting a surgery residency, and he doesn't feel so passionately about medicine. He likes it, but doesn't LOVE it. That's unthinkable to me. And yet here I am, reading medical books FOR FUN. On my own. I devour medical books like they're the latest issue of Vogue. (Although I read that, too). Why have I been resisting this so much? What am I so afraid of? This semester - this YEAR - my favorite class was my peds pharmacotherapy class. And I got an H. Not bad for someone who's not even in the pharmacy school. Pharmacy is HARD - and I got an H. Because I absolutely loved studying. I am a huge geek, I admit it. So why am I not pursuing this? Why did I think public health would be a panacea for this? Why did I think getting my MPH would be "just as good"? Why did I see it as a substitute for an MD? 

So here I am, 7 years after graduating with my BA in psychology, 2 Master's degrees later, and feeling like I've wasted my life since undergrad. Every job I want to apply for, you need a PhD or MD. Every time I go into a hospital, I look at the doctors enviously. Hell, I am even envious of the interns, getting pimped by their attendings and running on no sleep. I read med school memoirs when I'm not reading medical books. Why the hell have I not pursued this? Is the fear really that big????? (or am I so afraid of the debt?) 

All I know is this: right now, I'm not sure I've ever been so adrift in my life.