Lost In Montreal

Lost In Montreal

Lost in Montreal. Why this title? I have really gotten into cocktails the last few years. Christiane is always on the lookout for new recipes, and she saw this (drank it?!) on a menu in Atlanta. So this is what Glenn and I did the night before scans - had a few drinks. Rye, Cynar, Benedictine, bitters. We added the Luxardo maraschino cherries as an extra decadent treat.

One of the last times I talked with Jim I asked about how he was managing his pain - whether he was imbibing in medical marijuana. He said it was a long bureaucratic process to get it legally and we joked about my brother. He said he was enjoying his vodka. I thought that was so funny as I don't remember him drinking. He said it helped a lot.

We spent all day at the Dana Farber on Friday. I started on L1 with a blood draw at 8am and finished up with an MRI. In between there was a bone scan, CT scan and consult with hematologist. It was a long, exhausting day.

And now the hardest part... waiting. We see the Vixen on Wednesday at 1:30. I continue to feel really good although I have intermittent numbness of the right foot and some weird tingly sensations around my knee. But the radiation oncologist advised back in September that nerves can take a long time to recover, and that the treatment itself could cause damage (don't you love that) or there could be irreversible damage. I can definitely live with it as it is - I can do everything including yoga balances on my right foot so have not lost any function whatsoever. It's just a creepy reminder that something could go terribly wrong at any time... but at the same time, I'm good.

This is living with cancer.

Jim

Christ Church
Roxbury, Connecticut

We got the news that my dad's cousin Jim died early Christmas morning. I texted him a few days ago, and his wife Karin texted back that he was in a nursing home, unresponsive. I asked her to whisper words of love into his ear anyway. He passed peacefully in the wee hours. The impact of his death is heavy. He was a strong connection to my dad who died in a motorcycle accident when I was 14. They were first cousins an spent a lot of time on Jim's father's farm in Iowa when they were in college. Jim told me about the chemical exposures to agricultural chemicals. Jim was a doctor, a radiologist. His brother died of cancer some years ago and his sister has an autoimmune disorder, the same one I have. This is my best guess, too, about why I have so many health problems although it's not apparent at this point.

And as a person, Jim was my kind of guy. He was a professional and loved teaching at the university. It was a family joke - that Jim "retired" although he never really did.   Next thing you knew, he was on to something else.

Our family shares a lot of characteristics. "I do, therefore I am" might sum it up pretty well. Physically active, deep involvement in peculiar things, musical. With a bend towards the spiritual as well. Jim was a yogi and yoga teacher. He was a passionate roller blade. Meditator. and a very talented piano player. After he "retired" he played classical music with a few different groups. He and Karin came out to the East Coast when he had a conference in Boston or just to visit family in the Cape. I remember visiting his parents - Uncle Winston and Aunt Virginia - in their little Iowa town when I was a tiny kid. I have a photo of my sister's wedding in 1996 and Jim is in it, looking healthy and strong. He was a red head which I also loved.

It is very scary to me - he was diagnosed with prostate cancer a few months after I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2008. Mine was "worse", fully metastatic. And now he's dead.

Friday I go for scans, MRI and will also see the hematologist. Then I'll see the Vixen next Wednesday for results. and the radiation oncologist a few days later. I'll be at the hospital all day. I am bracing myself. My left foot/leg feels weird intermittently. Numbness, tingling. I worry that the tumor has begun to grow again. If radiation didn't work, I'm fucked. I try as best I can not to think about it but as it gets closer it is more looming.

Yesterday I decided to take a chance and booked non-refundable tickets to Berlin to see Otto and Claudia in June. I've been wanting to go for years - they have a window of time - so I took a deep breath and booked tickets from June 1-12. I need something to look forward to.

Art-O-Mat

Museum of Fine Art
Boston

When we're in the city, Glenn and I love to bomb around on the bikes. Last weekend we hit both the ICA and the MFA. Back by the bathrooms, we found this retro repurposed cigarette machine. Rather than selling cigarettes, it sells 2" by 3"artworks on woodblocks for $5. Another patron was there buying up many of them for holiday gifts. There is a sign asking artists to contribute images. I will give it a shot! None of the artists were names I recognized so I'm not sure if they are local artists, regional artists or what. Note to self: apply!

I may have mentioned this but I'll get all my scans and MRI done on Friday December 29. I start early in the morning and finish late afternoon. In addition to the scans, I will see the hematologist. Yes, another chronic health problem. I have an auto-immune disorder called APLS which basically means my blood tends to clot. I've had 2 blood clots - the second one I was doing a really long training ride with Glenn and we biked straight into the emergency room and I was admitted overnight. That was 2 years ago. Since then I've been on a blood thinner so I bleed and bruise easily. So I'll see him that day, too. And now I'm adding a new specialist to the stable - a cardiologist. I wore a Holter monitor for 24 hours last week and there were some findings that I don't entirely understand so I'm being referred to a cardiologist. A friend was over for dinner this week and she said you'd never, ever guess that I have so many health problems. I continue to feel healthy, strong and vibrant.

My December gift-a-day project is on track - which makes this a fun and meaningful month.

Cyclorama

 On Friday mornings I usually see my friend and neighbor Amy. We meet at my place and do encaustics, or sometimes we go to her studio and work in other mediums. A few months ago she invited me to participate in a community art project sponsored by Medicine Wheel. The call was for artists to respond to the theme of "air" on a 2'x2' panel. The project corresponded with International AIDS Day. There was a vigil that started at midnight on Thursday and ran through yesterday. Amy and I biked to the South End yesterday to the Boston Center for the Arts and saw the show at the Cyclorama. The first picture I took lying on my belly with my piece. There were 600 paintings there as well as other installations.

A woman was singing acapela. There were lots of people wandering about. Overnight there were various groups there performing, praying, dancing, or whatever they were inspired to do. The paintings were all for sale for $100 each. Kind of a pop-up format as the whole show/event was for 24 hours only. I've never participated in anything like that before. Art in community. Political art. It was cool.

Today's gift will go to Marcia who is having her 60th birthday party tonight. She said "no gifts" but I found some handmade soaps - who wouldn't enjoy a little treat like that?

Glenn and I are debating whether to dig into a pumpkin spice cake I made today - should we consume it while it's hot, or give to a neighbor? Yesterday I baked a pumpkin that Sarah Jane gave me for Halloween. Sasha loved the skin which she devoured. And I made a cake with the fresh pumpkin. It's always a risk to share something with others when you haven't tried it yourself - so I'm thinking Glenn's argument will win out that we should consume it RIGHT NOW.

Gift-A-Day Project

Chatham, Massachusetts

I started the Gift-A-Day Project many years ago. For the month of December, I give a gift to someone every day of the month. The more unexpected, the better. I started it because December had always been a time of sadness, angst and unhappiness. Since I was a young kid with divorced parents, there was always that. And over the years it developed into a sense of feeling so bad about my life, comparing myself to others imaginary happy families and holidays. Of course I knew better - but the comparing-mind really took root and it was a time of suffering for me. So around 2009 I read a review of a book in Yoga Journal about a woman whose spiritual teacher told her to give to others in the midst of her health crisis. I remember reading that article in late November and had an a-ha moment - I could do my own version for the month of December which was a few days ago. And so a new tradition was born.

I think about it throughout the year, and stockpile small gifts and jot down ideas for what I could do.

December 1 is also the date my mother was killed in a car accident in 1981. That's a very sad and tragic story. I initially met Glenn as a college freshman in 1979, and his mother was a mentor to me from those times in so many ways. She was the first person I met who was struck by my crazy life history to date, who was interested to hear it, to offer empathy and a deep understanding. She was a clinical social worker and such a kind, loving person. I call her "Chiddies". It was she who encouraged me to get in touch with my mom after we had been estranged since I was 10 years old. I'm grateful for the 1-2 years of reconnection with my mom although we never met in person. A story for another time.

So shine on, Mom. And shine on, Chiddies.

Today's gift went to my beloved bother-in-law John. My house is a way-station for so many visitors and John on occasion texts and asks, "room at the inn?". I love that. So I gave him a huge box of Trader Joes Taste Test of Caramels. It made him happy and it made me happy.