How they said goodbye to Gilda Radner

I came across this today on Facebook (thanks, Chemobabe!) and knew I had to share it with you.

From HuffPost Comedy, 2 January 2012

“Gilda got married and went away. None of us saw her anymore. There was one good thing: Laraine had a party one night, a great party at her house. And I ended up being the disk jockey. She just had forty-fives, and not that many, so you really had to work the music end of it. There was a collection of like the funniest people in the world at this party. Somehow Sam Kinison sticks in my brain. The whole Monty Python group was there, most of us from the show, a lot of other funny people, and Gilda. Gilda showed up and she’d already had cancer and gone into remission and then had it again, I guess. Anyway she was slim. We hadn’t seen her in a long time. And she started doing, “I’ve got to go,” and she was just going to leave, and I was like, “Going to leave?” It felt like she was going to really leave forever.

So we started carrying her around, in a way that we could only do with her. We carried her up and down the stairs, around the house, repeatedly, for a long time, until I was exhausted. Then Danny did it for a while. Then I did it again. We just kept carrying her; we did it in teams. We kept carrying her around, but like upside down, every which way—over your shoulder and under your arm, carrying her like luggage. And that went on for more than an hour—maybe an hour and a half—just carrying her around and saying, “She’s leaving! This could be it! Now come on, this could be the last time we see her. Gilda’s leaving, and remember that she was very sick—hello?”

We worked all aspects of it, but it started with just, “She’s leaving, I don’t know if you’ve said good-bye to her.” And we said good-bye to the same people ten, twenty times, you know.

And because these people were really funny, every person we’d drag her up to would just do like five minutes on her, with Gilda upside down in this sort of tortured position, which she absolutely loved. She was laughing so hard we could have lost her right then and there.

It was just one of the best parties I’ve ever been to in my life. I’ll always remember it. It was the last time I saw her.”

- from Live from New York: an Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live

“Gilda got married and went away. None of us saw her anymore. There was one good thing: Laraine had a party one night, a great party at her house. And I ended up being the disk jockey. She just had forty-fives, and not that many, so you really had to work the music end of it. There was a collection of like the funniest people in the world at this party. Somehow Sam Kinison sticks in my brain. The whole Monty Python group was there, most of us from the show, a lot of other funny people, and Gilda. Gilda showed up and she’d already had cancer and gone into remission and then had it again, I guess. Anyway she was slim. We hadn’t seen her in a long time. And she started doing, “I’ve got to go,” and she was just going to leave, and I was like, “Going to leave?” It felt like she was going to really leave forever.

So we started carrying her around, in a way that we could only do with her. We carried her up and down the stairs, around the house, repeatedly, for a long time, until I was exhausted. Then Danny did it for a while. Then I did it again. We just kept carrying her; we did it in teams. We kept carrying her around, but like upside down, every which way—over your shoulder and under your arm, carrying her like luggage. And that went on for more than an hour—maybe an hour and a half—just carrying her around and saying, “She’s leaving! This could be it! Now come on, this could be the last time we see her. Gilda’s leaving, and remember that she was very sick—hello?”

We worked all aspects of it, but it started with just, “She’s leaving, I don’t know if you’ve said good-bye to her.” And we said good-bye to the same people ten, twenty times, you know.

And because these people were really funny, every person we’d drag her up to would just do like five minutes on her, with Gilda upside down in this sort of tortured position, which she absolutely loved. She was laughing so hard we could have lost her right then and there.

It was just one of the best parties I’ve ever been to in my life. I’ll always remember it. It was the last time I saw her.”

- from Live from New York: an Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live

Hopped up on steroids

I am on day two post-chemo and have been on dexamethasone (Decadron) since my eribulin infusion on Wednesday. This is the steroid that makes me a little hopped up (hah, a litle).

Yesterday I ran a couple of errands, did three loads of laundry, participated in a 90 minute conference call, baked a pecan pie for  Shabbat, made dinner for Rik and I, and hosted rehearsal for my choir. I had to take Ambien to get some sleep even after relaxing for an hour after rehearsal.

Today I went to Dr G's office for my Neulasta shot (to boost my white blood cell count), met a friend for some fun, came home and started more laundry and am now blogging. In a few hours we will go to friends for Shabbat dinner and bring the aforementioned pecan pie along with coffee flavored whipped cream.

My feet hurt, I feel stressed from the steroids, it's impossible to relax. I will try to cuddle with the dog and read a bit while the laundry does its thing. Maybe the Ativan I just took will help me calm down.

Avastin today and years since diagnosis

My dose of Avastin today went very smoothly. Dr G heard me shmoozing with my friend J and said through the drawn curtain, "Is that Jill?" He came over for a short visit and we caught up over how well I feel, despite my increasing hair loss (as he says, "Well, that's not surprising") and painful neuropathy in my feet.

I asked him again about his other patient, the one who's lived with breast cancer for 24 years. This time I was sure to ask if this time period was since her initial diagnosis or her metastatic diagnosis. Well, the 24 years is since her first diagnosis. It made me feel even more confident in having chosen Dr G as my oncologist 14 years ago.

I don't know anything about this woman, not her age at first diagnosis nor anything about her condition now. I was 39 at first diagnosis and I'm now 53. I look forward to turning 54, 55 and older under Dr G's care. If this other woman can live 24 years with breast cancer, then I can do the same and longer. As we Jews say about birthdays, until 120 years.

And as I a;ways say, I should live so long.

Eribulin side effects

This is a quick reality check on actually living with cancer and chemo side effects. Be prepared.

Even on this lowest dose of eribulin, I have begun to experience more significant side effects. I was constipated all weekend, which I thought was due to too much turkey and stuffing and not enough fruit and vegetables, but turns out is prevalent in fewer than 29% of people taking eribulin. I always keep some Senokot-S® on hand (it contains senna, which helps move the bowels) and it helps soften stool.

My hair has begun to come out. I think this was true of 45% of eribulin patients, and clearly I am in that group. It started thinning a few days ago, so I had it trimmed to be more even. This morning in the shower, much more hair came out that in the previous days. Since I get the next chemo dose on Wednesday, by next week I might be pretty much hairless. Thank goodness I had those eyebrows tattooed! At least I won't look completely like a bald egg (or a male version of myself with a significantly receding hair line).

The neuropathy in my feet has gotten a bit worse but not terrible, except late at night. I think I am more aware of it at night because I'm not as busy. Reading a book, watching TV or snuggling with Rik and Bobka don't distract as much from the pain and numbness in my feet as doing chores or cooking.

On the glass half full side, the sun is shining today and Bobka and I walked 20 blocks to the bank and drug store despite my neuropathy. It was lovely to be in the sun after some torrential rains this past week, and I am glad that I didn't let the pain in my feet stop me.

Gobble gobble

We enjoyed a lovely Thanksgiving meal with our good friends G and D and others. Everyone brought delicious food, lively conversation and a spirit of well-being to the table.

What am I thankful for this year?

As always, that I have lived ten-plus mostly very good years with metastatic breast cancer.

That I have the continuous love and support of the best husband on the planet.

That my family and friends try hard to understand how tough living with advanced cancer can be, and that they understand when I need to talk about it and when I need to just be a regular person.

That my medical care team respects me as a person -- Dr G and all my doctors, nurses, and their administrative support staff. To them I'm not a disease or diagnosis; I'm me.




And last but not least, that I have the unconditional love of Bobka the dogka, who always knows when I need a cuddle and snuggle.

The rest of the birthday celebration

On Friday night we enjoyed Shabbat dinner with friends. Their young daughter made me a card and a small paper lantern "lit" with carnation flower. It was a sweet way to celebrate.

Saturday morning saw me in synagogue, feeling well enough to lead the musaf service as planned. There's something very powerful and satisfying about standing in front of the congregation, with my back to them. I can't see them, but I can hear their voices lifted in song along with me. Leading the congregation in prayer has got to be my favorite synagogue activity.

That night our inner circle of friends got together at one home for a potluck dinner and birthday party. We noshed on nuts, cheeses and crackers, focaccia, and a bottle of champagne. Then we went to the table for Moroccan vegetable stew with quinoa, broccoli and leek quiches, green salad, more talking and more wine.

Our friends from Vancouver were in Everett for a kid thing and drove to Seattle in order to see us. They arrived in time for dessert. I had picked up a yummy selection from Whole Foods including mini cupcakes and tarts in chocolate, vanilla, lemon, key lime and salted caramel; a couple of eclairs; a fresh fruit tart and a small apple pie. In addition we had Graeter's chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream, Fran's dark chocolate sauce, more mixed nuts, pomegranate seeds both fresh and covered in chocolate, and chocolate covered ginger. Of my four personal food groups (champagne, chips, chocolate and whipped cream), only the whipped cream was in short-ish supply on the eclairs and the mini tarts.

Sunday's festivities featured a clothing exchange with about ten friends. We had all picked from our closets the items we no longer wear, or don't like, or that don't fit properly any more. Everyone contributed, and everyone went home with something. You should have seen R in a slinky one-shoulder black velvet gown. Just about everything looked good on N. S was particularly helpful in saying if something really flattered or wasn't worth keeping. Even a couple of teenaged daughters ended up with stuff they loved! I think I ended up with the best bargain: a grey cashmere dress with short sleeves by designer TSE. It looks kind of like this item from the TSE spring 2010 collection. The remaining clothing from our exchange will go to another clothing exchange, and the final bits will go to the Lifelong AIDS Alliance thrift store.

Now the birthday celebrations have ended and it's time to pick up some projects I've avoided lately, prepare for Wednesday's chemo cycle three, and get ready for Thanksgiving!

Good news

The eribulin is clearly working. My CA 27.229 tumor marker fell by more than 100 points! This is exactly the kind of reaction Dr G and I hoped to see.

The next step will be to reduce the eribulin dose once more (to the lowest of the three options), because the neuropathy in my feet has increased dramatically. In the morning I now feel numb all along the toes, the balls of the feet, and the outside edges of each foot. (Previously I didn't have any symptoms in the morning.) By 4 PM I have that pins-and-needles feeling, which soon progresses to full numbness and more pain by evening. Hence Dr G wants to try reducing the dosage to see if the eribulin will still be as effective but less toxic. I agreed to try for one more cycle.

Also, today is my 53rd birthday. Rik bought me red roses, Bob snuggled with me, and I managed to do a little shopping. But what did I really do today? Go to the doctor and get good news!

I'm already looking forward to turning 54.....

Veterans Day

I maybe one day late, but still wanted to post about my dad the veteran.

Parents and proud soldier

Sheldon Charles Cohen, z"l, (may his memory be for a blessing) began his service in WWII at 17. He lied about his age to enter the Army Corps of Engineers, and spent the war driving trucks all over Europe. It was his grand youthful adventure. He never saw action or fire, and returned home safely to marry my mother and run the family seltzer business (hence all that truck driving). 

If I had a US flag, Dad, I'd be flying it in your honor and memory. You served your country proudly.

And my sister reminds me, "He also peeled a lot of potatoes!"

Another anniversary

It turns out yesterday was the 40th anniversary of my bat mitzvah! I went to shul knowing that the week's portion was Chayyei Sarah (the life of Sarah), which was my bat mitzvah portion. I arrived early enough that the Kohen aliyah was still not taken, and the gabbai offered it to me.

I went up to the bimah to tell Rabbi Borodin that today's was my bat mitzvah portion, and she immediately asked how old I was. I told her I was going to be 53 next week, and she said, "It's the 40th anniversary of your bat mitzvah!"

When I went up for my aliyah, Rabbi B had prepared a mishebayrach for this occasion, also asking for blessings for good health. She even remarked to the bat mitzvah girl, "This is where you could be in 40 years!"

I called my mother after services and we had a nice catch up about favorite memories from my bat mitzvah. The memory that leaped to my mother's mind was my little sister turning around to say to my mother, "Look, Aunt Edol is finally here!" (Edol is chronically late to everything.) My mother also praised me for doing such a good job on that special day so long ago.

All in all, it was a lovely and most unexpected concatenation of Jewish moments.

Reduced steroids

Dr G agreed that yesterday I was flying too high ("defying gravity..." to quote Stephen Sondheim). He reduced my steroid dose from 12 mg to 8 mg daily through Sunday. I am still whirling with energy.

Even though I took Ambien at 11 PM, I woke up at 4 AM and about an hour later, after Rik got up, I still hadn't fallen back to sleep. I took some Ativan, which helped me relax again and I slept until 8:00, my more usual hour. After breakfast Bobka and I walked to the pharmacy, about 22 blocks total. I came home to a visit with D, who chatted while I baked Smitten Kitchen's delicious bittersweet chocolate pear cake, substituting apples this time and adding Theo's chocolate nibs as well as chocolate pieces. Last time I overbeat the eggs and burned the brown butter a bit, plus I used a larger-than-called-for cake pan. This time the butter and eggs were perfect, but I subbed a smaller pan and part of the batter overflowed onto the oven floor. So I had to turn the clean cycle on to burn off the burned chocolate and fruit. I nibbled on the cake edges with my other visitor S, and we agreed the cake is delicious.

I've done two loads of laundry with a third on the way. The dishwasher is full and working. A pot of ginger tisane is simmering on the stove top. I made the bed. I did a little business, and scheduled the recheck on my eyebrow tattoos. (They have softened and look terrific!)

And it's only 2:15 PM. I will try to lay down on the sofa but I doubt I'll be able to relax. Perhaps my book calls....

This is what life is like for me on steroids.