Today my dad celebrated his 80th birthday. Since my parents live on the other coast, I spoke with him on the phone to wish him many happy returns of the day. I asked him, "How does it feel to be 80?" His replay: "I don't feel any different from 79."
So what do you get someone for their 80th birthday? I am open to suggestions....
June 28, 2007
June 24, 2007
Celebrating with delicious food
Last Friday our friends celebrated their significant wedding anniversary with a dinner party for 15. This is no easy feat, but they accomplished a most successful evening with the help of a talented local French chef. Since I got to help weigh in on the menu, I thought to share it with you --
Stuffed Belgium endive with grapefruit and spice cream cheese
Artichoke-pine nut-garlic feuillete
Toasted hazelnut salad w/cranberries and hazelnut vinaigrette
Seared sea bass with onion and apple coriander compote and hollandaise sauce
Marinated cauliflower and mushrooms
Colorful vegetable medley
Dessert was a white chocolate mousse cake studded with raspberries and almonds, PLUS an apricot tarte tatin and fresh fruit.
C'etait delicieux!
Stuffed Belgium endive with grapefruit and spice cream cheese
Artichoke-pine nut-garlic feuillete
Toasted hazelnut salad w/cranberries and hazelnut vinaigrette
Seared sea bass with onion and apple coriander compote and hollandaise sauce
Marinated cauliflower and mushrooms
Colorful vegetable medley
Dessert was a white chocolate mousse cake studded with raspberries and almonds, PLUS an apricot tarte tatin and fresh fruit.
C'etait delicieux!
June 17, 2007
Race for the Cure
More than 15,000+ people in white (racers), pink (survivors) or blue (volunteers) t-shirts poured up the ramp to the Alaskan Way viaduct to participate in Puget Sound Komen's Race for the Cure. Picture them on the field at Qwest Stadium, picking up free samples from all the corporate sponsors. Hear them cheering the survivors' parade as 1200 women enter the field to the tune of "I Will Survive."
The Seattle Post-Intelligencer reported that the Race raised about $1.8 million Saturday. The Seattle Times called us cancer-fight foot soldiers.
The P-I also covered the story of seven women in one family who have been struck with breast cancer.
This is one of only two "pink" events I do during the year. (The other benefits Swedish Medical Center's digital mobile mammogram program.) You may remember that I am a little pink-phobic at times. Well, although the Komen Race is literally a sea of pink, it benefits such a worthy cause that I just have to be there.
Thanks to my generous sponsors, I raised $1270 to support early detection, free mammograms for under-served populations, grants to help low-income women undergoing cancer treatment make ends meet, even programs to help women care for lymphedema. Best of all, Komen funds research towards finding a cure.
My doctors always say, I just have to live long enough, one more month at a time, for the next new thing to be available to treat breast cancer.
June 15, 2007
More on health and happiness
If Jeanne's and my posts on health and happiness intrigued you, here are two more for your consideration:
Lisa is a young doctor who has cancer. She blogged on a classic parable, The Jar of Rocks.
The Cheeky Librarian also has a lot to say.
Lisa is a young doctor who has cancer. She blogged on a classic parable, The Jar of Rocks.
The Cheeky Librarian also has a lot to say.
A new look for the blog
I decided to mix things up and take advantage of some new blogger.com features, such as the sidebar with links to favorite web sites. What do you think?
Rik's Birthday
Happy birthday to my wonderful husband Rik, who yesterday turned 47! Would you like to know how we celebrated?
Since Rik almost always gets up before I do, I like to put his birthday card on the table before I go to bed. That way he gets a pleasant surprise in the morning.
After school, I gave him a gift of a new wallet. The old one was looking a little beat up. It was very gratifying that he immediately took everything out of the old wallet and arranged it in the new wallet! I did remember the bubbeh-meiseh (superstition) of putting money inside so that he would always have money.
We went out for a lovely dinner with friends at the Union Square Grill. The restaurant was crowded, and our table wasn't ready when we arrived, so we sat at the bar pretending to be urban sophisticates. I had a martini (gin and 3 olives) and Rik had a mojito, not too sweet and made with plenty of mint. I promptly got smashed -- that was a lot of alcohol on an empty stomach!
We all shared a starter of mushroom and blue cheese strudel, served with fig jam. Delish! Rik ordered a salad with goat cheese and walnuts, some of which ended up on my bread plate. He had grilled lamb chops; I had a steak. Yes, even though we keep a kosher home, we do eat meat "out." Somehow I just can't make the leap to keeping more stringent kashrut in restaurants or other people's homes. Rik's chops came with blue cheese bread pudding and broccolini; mine was served with silky mashed potatoes and said broccolini.
Over coffee I gave Rik his final present -- a chocolate bar from Theo Chocolates -- 75% cacao from Ghana, Panama and Ecuador. He loved it, but was willing to share, and even offered a bite to our waitress. The rest of us shared a chocolate souffle served with vanilla ice cream. Then we rolled home (burp).
But I must tell you the real way Rik celebrates his birthday. Every year for his birthday he orders a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to his mother. He's been doing this since long before we met, using the same florist in Montreal. It's an annual tradition that illustrates Rik's big heart.
Since Rik almost always gets up before I do, I like to put his birthday card on the table before I go to bed. That way he gets a pleasant surprise in the morning.
After school, I gave him a gift of a new wallet. The old one was looking a little beat up. It was very gratifying that he immediately took everything out of the old wallet and arranged it in the new wallet! I did remember the bubbeh-meiseh (superstition) of putting money inside so that he would always have money.
We went out for a lovely dinner with friends at the Union Square Grill. The restaurant was crowded, and our table wasn't ready when we arrived, so we sat at the bar pretending to be urban sophisticates. I had a martini (gin and 3 olives) and Rik had a mojito, not too sweet and made with plenty of mint. I promptly got smashed -- that was a lot of alcohol on an empty stomach!
We all shared a starter of mushroom and blue cheese strudel, served with fig jam. Delish! Rik ordered a salad with goat cheese and walnuts, some of which ended up on my bread plate. He had grilled lamb chops; I had a steak. Yes, even though we keep a kosher home, we do eat meat "out." Somehow I just can't make the leap to keeping more stringent kashrut in restaurants or other people's homes. Rik's chops came with blue cheese bread pudding and broccolini; mine was served with silky mashed potatoes and said broccolini.
Over coffee I gave Rik his final present -- a chocolate bar from Theo Chocolates -- 75% cacao from Ghana, Panama and Ecuador. He loved it, but was willing to share, and even offered a bite to our waitress. The rest of us shared a chocolate souffle served with vanilla ice cream. Then we rolled home (burp).
But I must tell you the real way Rik celebrates his birthday. Every year for his birthday he orders a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to his mother. He's been doing this since long before we met, using the same florist in Montreal. It's an annual tradition that illustrates Rik's big heart.
Insomnia
One of the side effects of living with mets has been terrible insomnia. Every night it seems to go like this:
11:00 PM Go to bed, fall asleep
2:00 AM Wake up with hot flash
2:20 AM Fall back asleep
4:00 AM Wake up with hot flash, identify pain, take vicodin
4:40 AM Fall back to sleep
5:30 AM Alarm goes off for Rik, have another hot flash
6:30 AM Hot flash
7:30 AM Hot flash
8:30 AM Hot flash
9:00 AM Give up; get out of bed
Today the 4 AM hot flash woke me from an unusually vivid dream featuring an earthquake, Pumpkin, Rik and an action-adventure-like escape. I don't know if this dream was a metaphor for cancer or just a bad dream (I ate too much for dinner last night).
In any event, the combination woke me completely. I got up and drank some water (I also had too much to drink last night!), took some vicodin, which often relaxes me enough to fall back to sleep. Not today. I heard the newspaper being delivered. The birds sang an early morning chorus. I started to think of all the things I need to do today.
At 4:55 AM I gave up and got up to write this post. Maybe I will take a nap this afternoon. Hopefully I will get a better night's sleep tonight!
11:00 PM Go to bed, fall asleep
2:00 AM Wake up with hot flash
2:20 AM Fall back asleep
4:00 AM Wake up with hot flash, identify pain, take vicodin
4:40 AM Fall back to sleep
5:30 AM Alarm goes off for Rik, have another hot flash
6:30 AM Hot flash
7:30 AM Hot flash
8:30 AM Hot flash
9:00 AM Give up; get out of bed
Today the 4 AM hot flash woke me from an unusually vivid dream featuring an earthquake, Pumpkin, Rik and an action-adventure-like escape. I don't know if this dream was a metaphor for cancer or just a bad dream (I ate too much for dinner last night).
In any event, the combination woke me completely. I got up and drank some water (I also had too much to drink last night!), took some vicodin, which often relaxes me enough to fall back to sleep. Not today. I heard the newspaper being delivered. The birds sang an early morning chorus. I started to think of all the things I need to do today.
At 4:55 AM I gave up and got up to write this post. Maybe I will take a nap this afternoon. Hopefully I will get a better night's sleep tonight!
June 13, 2007
Health and Happiness
How happy are we?
My friend Jeanne asked this most intriguing question on her blog The Assertive Cancer Patient. (Which, by the way, is worth a daily read. Jeanne is a terrific writer.)
I must agree with Jeanne: "I don’t think I would have experienced life during the past few years with the same degree of intensity and joy if I had not been diagnosed with cancer." But as much as the highs can feel higher, the lows can feel lower. I am in closer touch with my emotions these days. A beautiful sunset, a sentimental song, cuddling with my husband and dog can all make me tear up. On the other hand, the middle-of-the-night frights, when I think about mortailty, feel scarier than they used to.
Living on borrowed time puts one intensively in touch with life. I don't know if I am happier since I got cancer. But feeling everything so strongly gives life an edge that, like adding sea salt to finish a favorite dish, adds zest and piquant flavor to living.
My friend Jeanne asked this most intriguing question on her blog The Assertive Cancer Patient. (Which, by the way, is worth a daily read. Jeanne is a terrific writer.)
I must agree with Jeanne: "I don’t think I would have experienced life during the past few years with the same degree of intensity and joy if I had not been diagnosed with cancer." But as much as the highs can feel higher, the lows can feel lower. I am in closer touch with my emotions these days. A beautiful sunset, a sentimental song, cuddling with my husband and dog can all make me tear up. On the other hand, the middle-of-the-night frights, when I think about mortailty, feel scarier than they used to.
Living on borrowed time puts one intensively in touch with life. I don't know if I am happier since I got cancer. But feeling everything so strongly gives life an edge that, like adding sea salt to finish a favorite dish, adds zest and piquant flavor to living.
Breast Cancer and (Pink) Stuff
I have found in my two bouts with breast cancer that when you get cancer, people want to give you stuff. They also offer to cook for you, drive you to appointments, even clean your house. But something in the human psyche seems to make us want to give tangible things to those who are sick.
For instance, when I was first diagnosed I received several books on breast cancer; on how to live with cancer; and even books of people's personal philosophy (Deepak Chopra was big in this category). I kept a copy of Rachel Naomi Remen's Kitchen Table Wisdom because it was so well written.
Then there was the pink stuff -- cans of tea from The Republic of Tea labelled Sip For The Cure; socks bearing the pink breast cancer ribbon; a fleece vest with same purchased via The Breast Cancer Site; even a stuffed dog version of Sparkle , Gilda Radner's pet.
I am sure a percentage of each of these items benefited breast cancer research, mammograms for low-income women and other worthy causes. But how much? And wouldn't the recipient organization be better served by a straight donation of $10 than a few cents from the purchase of a tchatchke?
For instance, when I was first diagnosed I received several books on breast cancer; on how to live with cancer; and even books of people's personal philosophy (Deepak Chopra was big in this category). I kept a copy of Rachel Naomi Remen's Kitchen Table Wisdom because it was so well written.
Then there was the pink stuff -- cans of tea from The Republic of Tea labelled Sip For The Cure; socks bearing the pink breast cancer ribbon; a fleece vest with same purchased via The Breast Cancer Site; even a stuffed dog version of Sparkle , Gilda Radner's pet.
I am sure a percentage of each of these items benefited breast cancer research, mammograms for low-income women and other worthy causes. But how much? And wouldn't the recipient organization be better served by a straight donation of $10 than a few cents from the purchase of a tchatchke?
June 11, 2007
My 2-minute cancer talk
This is what I said to the Coldwater Creek shoppers:
"The day I found out my cancer had returned, I went home and fell and broke my leg. I had a long recovery and plenty of time to think about the impact breast cancer would have on my life.
I had originally been diagnosed at age 39 with a small tumor. I had a lumpectomy, chemotherapy and radiation and was told it would probably never come back, go home and live your life. No one was more surprised than I that my cancer would return and spread to my bones when I was 42. I had developed stage IV, metastatic disease.
What is stage IV cancer? It's cancer that has spread outside of the breast. In my case I have tumors in my skull, spine, sternum, scapula, humerii, and femurs. I've been treated several times with radiation. But my cancer has been mostly stable on estrogen blockers. In August I will have lived with advanced cancer for 5 years.
I made a deal with my cancer. I think of it as a tenant in a house. If it would be quiet and not bother me, I would give it space. But if it acted up, I would have it zapped with radiation, drugs, whatever it took to become quiet again.
Cancer has had a huge impact on my life. I developed lymphedema, the arm-swelling condition that often accompanies surgery to remove lymph nodes. At age 42, I took medical retirement on disability from my career. I am in early (and permanent) menopause. Cancer cheated my husband and I out of raising children.
But I also now have time to do things that I didn't do before. I volunteer for a number of organizations. I sing in a choir. I walk my dog for a half-hour every day and I live the most active life I can.
My oncologist is always telling me that I just have to live long enough for the next new treatment to come down the road, that new things are available almost every month.
So what can you do? In addition to wearing a pink ribbon, you can do monthly breast self-exams. You can support Komen for the Cure. Your donation helps fund breast cancer research, mammograms for women who otherwise couldn't afford them, and even grants money to low-income women living with stage IV disease to help them make ends meet."
"The day I found out my cancer had returned, I went home and fell and broke my leg. I had a long recovery and plenty of time to think about the impact breast cancer would have on my life.
I had originally been diagnosed at age 39 with a small tumor. I had a lumpectomy, chemotherapy and radiation and was told it would probably never come back, go home and live your life. No one was more surprised than I that my cancer would return and spread to my bones when I was 42. I had developed stage IV, metastatic disease.
What is stage IV cancer? It's cancer that has spread outside of the breast. In my case I have tumors in my skull, spine, sternum, scapula, humerii, and femurs. I've been treated several times with radiation. But my cancer has been mostly stable on estrogen blockers. In August I will have lived with advanced cancer for 5 years.
I made a deal with my cancer. I think of it as a tenant in a house. If it would be quiet and not bother me, I would give it space. But if it acted up, I would have it zapped with radiation, drugs, whatever it took to become quiet again.
Cancer has had a huge impact on my life. I developed lymphedema, the arm-swelling condition that often accompanies surgery to remove lymph nodes. At age 42, I took medical retirement on disability from my career. I am in early (and permanent) menopause. Cancer cheated my husband and I out of raising children.
But I also now have time to do things that I didn't do before. I volunteer for a number of organizations. I sing in a choir. I walk my dog for a half-hour every day and I live the most active life I can.
My oncologist is always telling me that I just have to live long enough for the next new treatment to come down the road, that new things are available almost every month.
So what can you do? In addition to wearing a pink ribbon, you can do monthly breast self-exams. You can support Komen for the Cure. Your donation helps fund breast cancer research, mammograms for women who otherwise couldn't afford them, and even grants money to low-income women living with stage IV disease to help them make ends meet."
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