Lucky

A friend of mine recently asked me why I thought I was lucky. This gave me pause to truly consider the question. What follows are the reasons I feel lucky and it rightfully reads like a gratitude journal. If you recognize yourself in these lines, that was no mistake.

Lucky - to know that not all angels have wings. Some have two feet and walk among us.

Lucky - to have known such an amazing father that I am able to recognize the measure of a real man and true gentleman.

Lucky - to have been given a second chance at a first impression in college as we are now lifelong friends and sisters.

Lucky - to love the sound of falling rain and being fortunate enough to live in a place where I am reminded of that love often.

Lucky - to have met the one person who led me to my Girls even though she and I have since parted ways.

Lucky - to have been sent on a temporary assignment 14 years ago for a job I have never left.

Lucky - to have the ability and want to pursue my wanderlust.

Lucky - to consider your family as my own and be treated likewise.

Lucky - to be nearing five years with no recurrence.

Lucky - that my heart remains open after so many causes for closure.

Lucky - to see my legacy of love and friendship in the next generation.

Lucky - to have so many there to pick me up even when I didn’t know I’d fallen.

Lucky - to be loved by you despite my many imperfections.

I am lucky, and you know who you are.

12:31 PM

My father passed away on Saturday, February 13th at 12:31 PM.  I know it was 12:31 as I was at his bedside listening to his final breaths and watching the pulse on his neck as it slowly faded to nothing. When his breaths and heart stopped I picked up my phone to look at the time. It was 12:31 PM. 

I have no idea what time will be recorded on his death certificate.  Once we called the hospice nurse into the room to verify my father’s passing, which he did with just a slight glance so obvious was the fact, and he felt for a pulse and listened for heart sounds, minutes had ticked by. I never saw the nurse look at his watch or even the clock on the wall to call time of death.  So, I wonder what time will be recorded, but I know it was 12:31 PM.

The clock has struck 12:31 about twenty times since then.  I don’t note its passing each time. I don’t dwell there at 12:31, but I do know that timestamp will remain in my heart and the visual of my father’s pulse fading into stillness will stay with me always, regardless of the time on the clock.

General Degenerate

Today is K-Dawg’s birthday.  Kristin died January 2, 2009, so she isn’t here to party with us in body, but she certainly will be in spirit.  Several of our group (we’ve dubbed ourselves “The Hoodies” following a few girl weekends we’ve taken to the Hood Canal) will be meeting tonight at Kristin’s favorite bar to hoist a Patron or two in her honor.  Kristin was one of the funniest people, but she was stealth with it.  By all appearances she was this small, petite red head with the dazzling smile and a quiet, reflective way about her.  Get to know her and she was a total degenerate….General Degenerate as she was known to the group.  She started calling herself the General when her cancer returned and kept going rogue. I can make no sense of her passing, but I can certainly make sense of her life.  She was, and is, so beloved.  She is so missed every day.  We talk about her all the time.  We carry photos and candles and any other voodoo we can think of to stay connected with her wherever we go.  She was a charter member of The Hoodies, and I loved her.  Happy birthday, Funny Girl.  I miss you. 

The end of The 3 Day walk just months before she passed...K-Dawg on the far right.

Be your own truth

There is none who does not lie hourly in the respect he pays to false appearance.

~Henry David Thoreau

Thursday Thirteen

I’m back in the blogosphere after a very long hiatus.  This has been a very busy and very difficut year for a lot of us. Since I’m just beginning to stretch my brain and typing fingers, I’ll make this a short post and sum up the last ten months in this Thursday Thirteen.

1. Lost a darling friend to breast cancer on January 2nd.  I am not now, nor will I ever be, the same.  I miss you, K-dawg!

2. Attended the Young Survivial Coalition education conference in Dallas in February.  Saw way too many young faces with cancer.

3. In March I attended the Make-a-Wish auction as I have for a few years now. It is always humbling and inspiring to spend an evening with those kids. 

4. Vegas, Baby!  I flew to Vegas for my friend Kat’s 40th birthday.  There were more than 20 of us in total and we had a blast.

5. May blew in with a cancer diagnosis for my dad.  Glioblastoma Multiforme it’s called.  It’s a very aggressive brain cancer that has battered my father beyond belief. More on this later, to be sure.

6. In June I attened the Race for a Cure.  Thousands of people converged in downtown Seattle to walk 5K to raise money for breast cancer research.  I’m always amazed by the turnout and the show of support and love from strangers.

7. July…sweet, sweet July.  In July I ran away to the Hood Canal with some of my dreamiest girlfriends.  For the second year we rented a gorgeous house right on the canal and spent two days in the arms of laughter and love. 

8. July also brought me my first visit to Lake Chelan in Eastern Washington.  I was smitten with Chelan from the get-go.  It is one of my new favorite places and one I’m sure to make an annual pilgrimage to from now on.

9. In August I attended a function called Beams and Dreams.  Wonderful people who have boats volunteer themselves for a day of sailing/boating around Elliot Bay with people affected by cancer.  We were treated to a fun BBQ lunch first then spent the afternoon on the Bay, beer in hand.  Ahhhhhh…..

10. The 3 Day Walk to raise money for breast cancer research was in September this year.  While I did not walk, I was a walker stalker.  I was treated to an afternoon with my darling friend Anna and her borrowed 57 Chevy.  What fun! We followed our favorite walkers around for a bit before attending the very touching closing ceremonies.  We hoisted a shot of Patron in honor of our fallen friend Kristin.  Refer back to January…

11. October is my birthday month.  I’m 42 now.  Happy birthday to me!

12. October is my son’s birthday month.  How do I have a 20 year old?  Happy birthday to Jake!

13.  On Monday I leave for a week in Florida.  I will certainly have more to say about that upon my return, and I seriously need a vacation.

New

Things that are new:

New year

New home

New commute

New car for Jake

New hole in my heart left by the passing of a sweet friend

My Main Man

He was born 19 years ago today and is the best thing I’ve ever done. Happy Birthday, Jake!

Ode to Seattle

I love this city.  I truly do.  I stepped off the plane in 1997, took one deep breath and felt instantly at home.  I have lived all over the United States and have visited quite a few other places, but no other single place fills my soul like Seattle.

In December of 1996 I flew to St. Louis to visit my parents.  While awaiting my luggage, we stopped off at the smoking section in the airport for a minute for my folks to take a pit stop.  Once finished, we stepped out of that area and moved towards baggage claim.  We had no more left the area when I got that instant jerk in my stomach that told me I left my purse.  It was hanging on the armrest of my seat.  We were gone literally a total of about 30 seconds when I realized my mistake and dashed back in.  In that whisper of a moment my purse was gone.  Evaporated.  It was like it never existed.  Even though this was prior to 9/11, it was still mandatory to show ID before getting on a plane.  My ID was now gone.  My return ticket (hard copies back then!) was gone.  My ATM card, any credit cards, photos of my young son, gone…even my paperback book (which I’ve still never finished).  The purse itself was an actual favorite.  The whole situation could not have been more devastating and inconvenient.  I was not only due to fly home in a week but I was turning around and moving from Alaska three days following my return home.  I’ll save you the details of my return to normal; suffice to say it was a total pain in the ass. 

Today I was Starbucks on a break.  I was drinking coffee and using my Blackberry.  I was at the Starbucks in my building at work where I go everyday, probably twice a day.  I usually don’t carry my purse up there but today I did.  I was on auto pilot I suppose.  I picked up my coffee and my phone and proceeded back to work after a 15 mintue lull.  When I got back to my area, I realized I didn’t have a key to get in my office.  I had to find another manager with a master key so I could get in.   It is not unlike me to lock myself out of my office. They don’t even laugh anymore when I do it. Once I opened my office and saw that my keys were not on my desk, I freaked!  I didn’t have my keys because they were in my purse which was sitting on the floor where I left it in STARBUCKS.  My adrenaline rushed and I ran to the elevator. I knew it was gone.  I had taken two elevators and had monkeyed around with finding a master key in the amount of time since I’d left the purse behind.  I was sweating, wringing my hands and actually praying out loud that I would find it or at least get back in time to see someone walking out with it.  When I finally got back up there I ran to the corner and my purse was sitting there looking up at me as if to say, “Really? You just get up and leave a sistah sittin’ on the floor in Starbucks?”  I grabbed my bag and jumped back into an elevator while checking the contents on the way down.  Nothing was missing.  Not a dime, not my iPod, not my credit cards or even my paperback book. 

 I don’t think I would have been that lucky anywhere else except Seattle.

The 3 Day Revisited

It’s Tuesday now and The 3 Day is behind us.  Julie and Kathryn have returned home safely and life continues on as usual.  The trouble is that nothing is usual following The 3 Day. 

If you’ve ever gone to summer camp or spent an intense period of time with a small group of people only to have it end, you understand the feeling of let down when it is over.  The 3 Day is an insanely emotional and intense experience.  You meet people from every walk of life and from all over the map who have all come together for one common goal.  It’s an incredibly powerful few days.

I won’t detail the sprains or blisters, the pulled I.T. bands (who knew this muscle existed?), the sunburn or the heat exhuastion.  Suffice to say we all suffered a bit over the course of trying to walk 60 miles.  What I will detail is the incredible volunteer crew who made the event possible at all.  They fed us, hydrated us, cleaned up after us, protected us as we crossed streets, reminded us to stretch, humored us and hugged us when we needed it.  The 400 people who took four days out of their busy lives to make this event happen are the true heros in my book.

We met walkers on this trip from far and wide.  Some had recently lost loved ones to breast cancer. I spent a lunch stop at Juanita Beach with a woman whose sister had died of my exact form of breast cancer just this past March.  We spoke a lot about her sister and the humor that didn’t die with her.  This walker shared a piece of herself with me that I will keep always. 

I spent three days getting to know my friends better than I thought possible.  We encouraged each other, teased each other, laughed at and with each other and cried a bit with each other at the end.  You can’t imagine the emotion that bubbles to the surface when you walk “home” into the closing ceremony after three days in the thick of this experience.  I feel so incredibly lucky to have been there, not only because 8.6 million dollars were raised in one weekend but because I am still alive and have health good enough to allow my involvement. 

Here are a few of my favorite and most touching moments of the weekend:

• The elderly deaf gentleman who was stopped along the route on day one who signed “thank you” and “good job” to me just because I was walking.
• The Brownie troop that greeted us along Eastlake with homemade flower pins who said “Thank you for doing this for us.”
• The numerous random people along the route with hoses or water bottles offering to cool us down with a spritz of water as we walked past.
• The team of six men, The Breastie Boys, who walked to honor the memory of one of their wives who died earlier this year.  I was so moved that he had five friends willing to wear pink to honor his fallen wife while they walked sixty miles raising awareness for their own wives and daughters. 
• The bad ass dude in the Utilikilt and combat boots who walks every year just because he can…hot pink hair dye and all.
• Watching my dear friend Nicole raise the flag at the closing ceremony signaling the close of the 2008 Seattle walk.

Thank you to those of you whole donated to my fund raising campaign.  Each walker was obligated to raise a minimum of $2200 to be eligible to walk, and everyone on my team surpassed that goal.  $8.6 million were raised in the fight against breast cancer and I am very proud to have been  a part of that. 

These Boobs Were Made for Walkin’…

Ok, boots…whatever.  

I have a circle of very good girl friends with whom I began traveling a few years ago. Julie A. and I live in Seattle.  Kathryn lives in Chicago and is a high school friend of Julie’s and Julie G., a former co-worker of mine,  now lives in Santa Barbara, California.  These are some the funniest, strongest and most amazing women I know.

Our first trip was to Paris, France at the end of December, 2004.  We had one fantastically incredible week soaking up the food, wine, art and romance of the city.  We paused at midnight New Years Eve to toast the new year with a clink of champagne glasses and a fond “bon ani” to all who surrounded us.  To this day I fondly remember Cafe de Flore and moment we captured in time that will be ours forever.

We had such an amazing time together in Paris that when the following year rolled around we decided we needed to come back together and take another trip.

Our flight to Ireland departed on September 9th, 2006, 12 days after my breast cancer surgery.  My girl friends took such good care of me that week.  They hoisted my luggage, doted on me, made sure I got enough rest and were generally very understanding of my intermittent grumpiness.  We all knew I was facing chemo, radiation and very uncertain future upon my return home.  We spent a sublime week in a rented Audi A6 seeing the most amazing sites in the friendliest country on earth.  I got to drive on the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road.  We stayed in a castle and felt like princesses and stood speechless watching as the sun set over the Cliffs of Moher.  Another magical moment…

Fast forward to October 2007.  It was my 40th birthday and what better way to celebrate than to take the annual trip with the girls?  This time we went to Napa Valley, California.  We rented a limo and had a amazing day touring wineries, picnicing, drinking way too much and just generally being silly.  We attended the Fall Harvest Festival at the Chiarello Family Vineyards on my actual birthday, so the trip really could not have been more perfect.  Everyone was in great health.  My hair was starting to come back in and the trip went spectacularly.

With the uncertain economy plaquing us in early 2008 we knew we wanted to take another domestic trip.  While there are many exotic locales on our list of places to go, we all thought it best to play this trip close to home.  My girls rallied around me and all decided that this years trip was the be The 3 Day Walk here in Seattle.

The 3 Day Walk benefitting Susan G. Komen for the Cure begins tomorrow at sunrise.  Kathryn and Julie have arrived in town and we’re all having a pre-func slumber party at Julie A’s house tonight.  We each had to raise $2200 to be eligible to participate in the walk.  Not only did my girls kick ass fund raising, but they took time off work and from their loved ones to be here to do this walk with me.  This “trip” will be nothing like our trips from the past.  Rather than bottles of wine there will be blisters, strained muscles and sun burn.  Instead of new venues we will walk the familiar streets of the city I call home.  We are sure to still have as many laughs and will enjoy each other’s company as always.  I am lucky indeed to call these women my friends.

Think of us over the course of the next three days as we each attempt to walk 60 miles.  Think of the lives we will potentially save with the money we raised that will support research to find a cure or new therapies.  Think of your wives, mothers, daughters and friends and hope they are able to live a life free from breast cancer.

 Walk on sisters, walk on!

Food for Thought

“We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

~ Joseph Campbell

Cancerversary

There is some debate in the medical community as to when a cancer patient begins the count towards remission status.  Does the hammer drop when the tumor is removed with clean margins or does the count start when all treatments are concluded?  I have two oncologists and both disagree.  I choose to side with the onc who believes remission starts once there is “no evidence of disease” (NED) following surgery. 

In my group we refer to NED as someone we are “involved” with.  He has become quite personified and is beloved by all.  Most of us are currently dating NED and we share him equally.  NED is what Big Love is really all about.  My surgery date was August 28, 2006, so by all accounts NED and I are now in a long-term relationship and just shared our cancervesary.  I celebrated with new boots.  NED celebrated by giving me clean CT scans on Wednesday.  Thanks NED! 

Ferry Haiku

Pink sky sunrise

Faceless passengers surround

I, anonymous

Race for the Cure

My friend Julie and I got up early today to participate in the Seattle Race for the Cure.  It is a 5K walk/run with proceeds to benefit the Komen Foundation.  Of course all of my BC sisters were there so we all met up at the survivor’s breakfast.  Survivors were encouraged to have one of their “co-survivors” attend the breakfast with them and Julie was certainly along for the ride during my treatment.  Breakfast was your basic hotel type continental deal, but it was very nice of them to honor survivors in that manner.  There was some goofy women’s choir there singing pop songs in madrigal style.  It wouldn’t (shouldn’t) have been funny, but they were so serious about it. 

 During the walk Julie and I got pretty far ahead of my support group friends, but that isn’t surprising since they were all pushing stollers or had young children walking with them.  There were literally thousands of people on this walk and I am still shocked at the turn out.  I had no idea it was such a big event in Seattle.  They closed down the viaduct that runs along downtown on the bay, so it was a beautiful walk along the waterfront.  It felt like we were getting away with something naughty too by walking on the viaduct, so that was pretty fun.

When we returned back to Qwest Field, where the walk began and ended, Jules and I took a run through the exhibition area and I scored some fun swag that I’m going to take over to my mom tomorrow when I visit.  Afterall, A gal only needs so many pink ribbon shaped emory boards!

Silence is a virture

George Bernard Shaw wrote: “Choose silence of all virtues, for by it you hear other men’s imperfections, and conceal your own.”  I’m not sure why I have been so quiet these past few months for my life has been actually busier than usual with much to share, but sometimes I just feel the need to shut up.  I’ve snapped out of it for now.

Here is the Cliff’s Notes version of my update: 

• In April, I visited the Tulip Festival in LaConner, WA with Charlie, JP, Trixie and Hope.  It was a really cold, rainy day, but we had a great time just being together.
• At the end of April, I joined a group of co-workers and cooked dinner for the residents of the Seattle Ronald McDonald house.  We fed about 80 people comprised of families whose children are in treatment at Seattle Children’s Hospital.  One little girl and her family have been in residence for two years as she battles leukemia.  It was humbling.
• May brought a visit from one of my very oldest friends, Monica Schiano.  She flew here from Panama City, Florida for a week and we had the best time.  We spent my Mother’s birthdy on Bainbridge Island with my parents and son.  We had brunch at a great little place called Cafe Nola (www.cafenola.com) where Mom and Monica tried the famous french toast. It was quite a treat.  After brunch,  we went to a really incredible nature preserve called the The Bloedel Reserve.  We hiked a bit through the woods and checked out the flora and fauna then did a quick spin through the manor house on the property.  www.bloedelreserve.com Pictures to follow. (It could happen!)
• My studies concluded for my professional certificate in Human Resources from the University of Washington.  Graduation takes place on the 18th, so pictures will follow from that as well. (Update: I totally bailed on the graduation ceremony, so no pictures will follow!)
• My insurance company approved breast reconstruction surgery for me.  There will undoubtedly be a post dedicated solely to this after my consult which is scheduled for mid August.  (I might still talk about this later, but there will not be surgery for me afterall)
• I’m in training for the 3 day walk to benefit breast cancer research and tomorrow is my first ten mile training walk.  With any luck I will get through it with minimal fainting or hurling. 
• I have declared this as my “Summer of Lost.”  I always wanted to see Lost but it always comes on opposite to Grey’s Anatomy.  I joined Netflix this summer so I can watch all of the past seasons I missed in rapid succession.  I have a great groove down now. So far I get a new DVD in the mail each day and mail one back each day so as long as I keep this rhythm going I will get through all four available seasons before fall.  It’s a serious committment to entertainment though as each DVD holds about three hours of viewing.  If you don’t hear from me, please someone, come pry the remote from my hand!

Three Negatives Don’t Make a Postive

I attended Cancer Club last night.  I generally go these days just to see my friends.  Though it is heartening to know I have this wonderful network of people surrounding me, I really don’t attend for “support” anymore.   I didn’t join this group until after my treatments ended, which means I knew virtually nothing of my disease until recently.  I did not do any research on the subject nor did I really even ask any questions while I was going through it.  The doctors told me where to go, what to do and when to show up and I did it.  Truly, I did.  It seems so dichotomous to who I am, but there it is.  Since I knew almost nothing about what was really going on with me, I certainly didn’t share the gritty details with any of you.  Get ready for gritty. 

But first, back to last night.  Our group has a pretty standard operating procedure.  Our moderator lays down the ground rules (don’t give medical advice, everything we say stays in the room, etc.) then one by one we go around the group and give our “cancer stats” and tell everyone where we are right now.  And by where we are, that might mean in a treatment regimen or just with life in general.  We give our stats each time because it would be impossible to remember everyone’s story, and everyone’s story is as unique as she is.  There are many subsets of breast cancer, which necessitates the need for many differing treatment regimens.  After we give our stats we can pose any questions or concerns we have to the group if we are there looking for any particular support.  While I am a discloser by nature, I tend to be on the tight lipped side during these meetings. I give the 30 second stat speech then pass the torch to the next person.  I tend to just sit and listen, observe and learn. 

Here are my cancer stats: Diagnosed in July of 2006 at the age of 38 with stage IIb triple negative invasive ductile carcinoma (IDC) of the left breast with no lymph node involvement.  I received a lumpectomy, a full axillary node dissection, chemotherapy and radiation.  My tumor was 2.5 centimeters in size surrounded by about 8 centimeters on all sides of ductile carcinoma in situ (DCIS). For simplicity purposes, you can think of IDC as fully cancerous and DCIS and “precancerous.” 

Breast cancer subsets are generally diagnosed based upon the presence, or lack of, three “receptors” known to fuel most breast cancers: estrogen receptors, progesterone receptors and human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (HER2). The most successful treatments for breast cancer target these receptors. Unfortunately, none of these receptors are found in women with triple negative breast cancer. In other words, a triple negative breast cancer diagnosis means that the tumor is estrogen receptor-negative, progesterone receptor-negative and HER2-negative. Because of its triple negative status, triple negative tumors generally do not respond to receptor targeted treatments.  If you are familiar with drugs like Herceptin or Tamoxofin, that’s what they do.  They target those receptors in positive tumors.  Since I am negative all around, there are no further treatments for me.  I’m flying without a net right now.

If you Google “triple negative breast cancer,” you will likely read some scary stuff.  Among the things you will find are words like “poor prognosis,” “more likely to recur,” “particularly aggressive” and other fun terms.  Triple negative tumors are actually a bit rare (leave it to me to stand out from the crowd) in that only 12-15% of all breast cancers are triple negative.  Generally speaking, people with triple negative tumors tend to be under the age of 40 at diagnosis and are likely Hispanic or African American.  The good news (always looking for the silver lining) is that triple negative breast cancer statistically responds well to chemotherapy.  The bad news is that any potential metastasis will likely be “distant.”  That means it will come back somewhere in the body other than in the breast.  The “somewheres” are comprised typically of bones and lungs.   This is the reason for my lumpectomy.  Even though my tumor was by all measures “large,” I received breast conservation surgery because statistically my cancer won’t return there.  Initially I assumed I scored a lumpectomy due to my moderate staging.  Doh!  If I recur in the bones or lungs, that will automatically place me at Stage 4.  I don’t need the group to help me understand that would be bad.

So that’s it…the gritty. I really only brought all of this up because a woman in the group last night made a snide comment about lumpectomies.  “Everyone she knows” who received a lumpectomy later recurred and DIED (insert dramatic music swell here).  At first I was mightily offended at what I perceived to be her scare tactics (she’s sort of like that), but then I remembered how uneducated I was about my own triple negative diagnosis and the reason the doctors never once uttered the word mastectomy to me as an option.  I was able to shrug off her comment, but it made me consider that most people simply don’t understand the nature of differing forms of breast cancer.   How could they when I was staring it in the face and didn’t know what I was looking at myself?

Words to Live By

I wouldn’t normally post someone else’s writing, but these are truly words to live by.  As someone who did find that lump, this is how I now try to live my life.  Enjoy!

This was a speech made by Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Anna Quindlen at the graduation ceremony of an American university where she was awarded an Honorary PhD.

“I’m a novelist. My work is human nature. Real life is all I know. Don’t ever confuse the two, your life and your work. You will walk out of here this afternoon with only one thing that no one else has. There will be hundreds of people out there with your same degree: there will be thousands of people doing what you want to do for a living. But you will be the only person alive who has sole custody of your life. Your particular life. Your entire life. Not just your life at a desk, or your life on a bus, or in a car, or at the computer. Not just the life of your mind, but the life of your heart. Not just your bank accounts but also your soul. People don’t talk about the soul very much anymore. It’s so much easier to write a resume than to craft a spirit. But a resume is cold comfort on a winter’s night, or when you’re sad, or broke, or lonely, or when you’ve received your test results and they’re not so good.

Home Sweet Home

We have been back from Mexico for a few days now.  The decadent laziness of our week spent poolside is but a fond memory.  I would revisit our resort again tomorrow and would recommend it to anyone who needs some down time.  Samuel, Carlos and Herme await you.  Book your trip now!

It turns out I tore a tendon when I twisted my ankle on the uneven sidewalk in Cabo. I’ll blame it on the infrastructure rather than the three margaritas I downed just before taking the tumble.  It makes me feel like less of a dope. 

I’ll post one final photo here taken as the four of us excited the Pacifica for the last time.  Adios to Mexico for now!

Quatro Amigas

Siesta Time

We have settled into a wonderful rhythm here in Cabo.  It’s midday, we’ve just had lunch at the swim bar and now it’s nap time.  We are showered and have on our fresh tshirts and shorts and we’re enjoying the nothingness of the afternoon.  Most days I would be deeply asleep this time of day, recovering from the effects of the sun and wind on my system.  Today is different though as it’s our last afternoon and we are all a bit melancholy.  The boys left this morning, and it was sad to see them go.  We had such a wonderful tme vacationing with them and will look forward to socializing more with them when we return to Seattle.

I know I have been remiss in posting photos, but I finally took some today and last night and will post a few for your enjoyment. 

The Handsome Ramon

Lobby of our hotel

Charlie and JP by the pool

Our hotel as seen from the beach

Theresa soaks up the sun

Pina Colada es bueno!

Yo quiero uno mas magarita por favor!

Trixie at the hotel

I hope you have enjoyed these few photos! I know everyone will have great stories to share very soon.

Pueblo Bonito Pacifica

We are wrapping up the end of our third day in Cabo.  My friends and I have spent a few days lounging by the pools, taking walks along the beach and eating way more than we should be comfortable with.  This is truly a five star resort.  Expedia calls it four and a half stars, but for once I am happy to report that all expectations have been exceeded. 

 I could sit here and write pages and pages about the amazing service and ammenities of the hotel, but for the sake of time (and so you, dear reader, don’t feel too green with envy) I will simply leave you with my favorites. 

• The lemongrass scented warm, moist towels we were handed as we alighted from our taxi upon arrival.
• The lavendar scented lobby filled with candles, soothing music and water features.
• Watching the whales migrating north right in front of our beach.
• The swim up bar where Trixie, Charlie and I stayed until well after dark tonight sipping tequila and Mexican coffee and solving all the world’s problems.
• The margaritas and chile rellano I had in town at El Meson de Zapata which tasted ever so much better than they might have because they were served by the handsome Ramon.
• The incredible abalone and fresh water pearl bracelet I bought in town today.  I bargained Mario down by 50%, but he was still thrilled enough with our combined purchases to offer us a shot of tequila afterwards.

For the sake of balance, here are a few things that have left me wanting:

• Tripping on the sidewalk in town and twisting my ankle so badly the first night we were here that I still can’t put my full weight on it and had to literally crawl to the bathroom that night.
• Nine dollar bottled water in the minibar.
• The time share presentation we submitted to yesterday. 

I wish I had photos to post, but I have taken almost none.  All of my traveling companions have warned me against posting photos of them in swim suits, and we literally stay in them 12 hours a day.  That doesn’t leave much time for pictures or much else.  We keep talking about the snorkeling trip we need to take and the other adventures that await us outside the gates of our oasis, but none of us have bothered to actually book anything.  We are all so content here in our paradise at the end of the world.

Tomorrow is another day though and I heard someone mention karaoke.  Ramon is sure to have more margaritas to share and this time I will be sure of my footing before I step off the curb.

Hasta luego!

Sarah

Si me necesitan estare en Cabo San Lucas!

If you need me, I’ll be in Cabo San Lucas!  I am traveling to Mexico tomorrow with five new friends.  We have planned a week of sun, sand and relaxation at the supposedly lovely resort of Pueblo Bonito Pacifica Holistic Spa and Resort.  I say supposedly as we know nothing more of the property than we’ve read on Expedia.  Wish us well.  I will post anything noteworthy while we are away.

Contrasts in Giving

I attended two charity auctions over the last two weekends.  They were both to benefit wonderful, worthy causes.  My company is rather philanthropic and buys tables at these events to not only provide monetary support to the charities but to offer a face to our company through the people who occupy the seats.  I often get called upon to attend these events. I’m rather like a seat filler at the Oscars.  When someone backs out at the last minute, I’m called upon to attend the event so we don’t have noticable gaps at the table. 

 I enjoy attending these events because they are seriously fantastic people-watching opportunities, and it’s always a nice dinner and fun entertainment.  Couple that with the fact that I get to spend a Saturday evening with people I like from my company and don’t often get to socialize with and it’s just a win-win situation.

Last weekend’s dinner/auction was a true black tie event.  The guest list read like that Who’s Who of the Seattle socialite scene.  Every prominent family was represented at this event.  The whole affair was grand in scale…stiff tuxedos, glittering gowns, jewels and massive amounts of pretense.  There was one woman whose gown so was incredible that my guest for the evening felt the need to engage her to see what she was about.  It turns out that the dress the woman had on was her second for the evening.  She was in residence for the weekend at the hotel where the event was being held so she could do a mid-evening costume change.  I kid you not.

The event was pretty stuffy.  The auction itself was an exercise in gratuitous spending.  Granted, it was all for a good cause, but I am just cynical enough to think that all of those enormous checks were written with a much steadier hand because there were so many people there to see them written.  There is a place in most live auctions when the items cease parading for a moment so people can just give money.  The fund giving portion of last week’s auction began at $100,000.  Yes, there really are five zeros there.  It started there and can you imagine that six people raised their paddles to donate at that level?  That particular charity auction is one of the most successful auctions in the entire country, year after year. Over five million dollars were raised in one night in Seattle.  That is incredibly amazing.  It’s also incredibly humbling to keep that company.  Even when they got down to the $500 level I didn’t raise my paddle.  It’s hard to imagine my $500 creating even the tiniest ripple in that massive pond. 

By contrast I attended a “black tie optional” dinner auction this past Saturday.  The whole event was much more comfortable for me personally.  While there were certainly tuxedos and gowns in the group, the majority of the ladies were attired in nice cocktail dresses, the men in nice suits.  While the grand prize drawing required a thousand dollars for entry the week prior, this grand prize drawing was a mere $25.  Every one was able to enter the drawing.  More importantly, those people who gave their $25 to enter that drawing likely felt that their money was actually going to make a difference to the recipients.  I have attended that more formal auction for several years and always felt like a warm body…the seat filler.  At this event I actually felt like a participant.  My paddle went up at the $500 dollar level this time and I have no doubt that while my donation won’t make the largest ripple in the pond, it will no doubt move the water a tiny bit.

Remission

I have had this blog for many months now but haven’t really done much with it.  I haven’t had anything to say.  But now I’m mad.  I am crazy, froth-at-the-mouth mad, so here I sit banging on the keys of my laptop. I suddenly have much to say. I deleted the old posts, so we will start today.  We will just move forward.

My cancer treatments ended almost a year ago.  Since then I’ve carried a mild anxiety with me everywhere I go.  I can easily put it away when I am out and about, but late at night it creeps in and wants to visit.  I keep trying to usher it out of the house.  I mean, it doesn’t pay rent, right?

I have tried to articulate what this anxiety is to my non-cancer friends.  They are supportive but rather dismissive.  “You can’t think that way.”  “Stay positive.  Worrying only makes it worse.”  Does it?  Make it worse, I mean?  I feel like I keep the anxiety in my pocket in order to stay on my toes.  Keep alert.  Be aware.  It’s like living with someone who has committed an infidelity once already in the relationship.  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.  I don’t trust cancer to keep its word.  That bitch might cheat on me again.  I feel the need to check cancer’s pockets for a stray phone number or a clue to what it’s up to.  Strangely I hold onto the anxiety to keep my power over the situation.  It’s a futile attempt at controlling that which I have no control over, yet it makes me feel better to know cancer won’t catch me off guard again. 

The bitch about breast cancer is that it takes years before you are considered “cured.”  Breast cancer doesn’t get cured, it gets beaten into remission.  I’m in remission, but Webster defines remission as the period of time when the symptoms of a disease are abated.  No cure there, just reduction in symptoms. 

I attend a support group for young breast cancer survivors.  We are a varied group, but the one thing that we all have in common is being diagnosed under the age of 40.  Most of the women in my group are wives and mothers of very young children.  All of them are strong, brave, beautiful and funny.  My God are they funny.  How have I lived without them? 

This brings me to the anger portion of this post.  Two of my friends are suffering with recurrences.  Their cancers cheated on them again.  Dammit if one of the girls isn’t suffering with her second recurrence.  This week she endured her second mastectomy.  Round two for her was a chest wall recurrence.  Another of my friends learned of her lung metastasis several months ago.  They have been experimenting with various chemotherapies for her and finally found one that works.  This sounds like such good news until you hear the but…the chemo is working, BUT she is now experiencing kidney failure.  She doesn’t have time for that.  She has a husband, two very young children, a job and a great life.  She is beloved, but cancer is indiscriminate.  It will cheat on anyone if given the chance.  We have already lost two of our group members to this battle, and I cannot stomach the thought of losing more.  “Battle” makes me think of my new favorite t-shirt: End the War in my Rack.  How is that for breast cancer humor?  I told you they were funny.

One of my BC sisters said it best recently:  Fuck awareness.  We need a cure.