GIVING THANKS

November 27, 2009

Here's to giving Thanks. At least once a year, we gather around a large table over-full with food. We say thank you to the people we love most in the world. The people who have always been there for you whenever you needed them. And for those whom we can't sit across the table from, we have the telephone to wish them a quick hello, thank you, and hope your day is great. We have football, and children prancing about the rooms playing at ballerinas, ninjas, and teens dragging the little ones around as the tots cling to the ankles of strong young boys. There is much laughter, wine and beer are consumed, turkey, dressing, potatoes, sweet potatoes, veggies (that hardly anyone really touches), desserts a plenty, and finally the day is over and we all roll out to our cars or roll down the stairs to our homes, or simply flop into bed, full, happy, and sleep with gratitude. Such was my day.

My thanks are plenty, my daughter and I made cranberry bread from scratch in the morning and watched the parade, and my son with his too long hair joined us groggy with sleep. Finally Ed wandered in and bread was broke, the day went on. We got ready to go to a friend's house in New Jersey, and then my chemo took hold, but I was determined to not let it control my day. So I took extra meds, who cared if I was doped up, and remembered little of the night. The memories I have I've posted. They were priceless. Sarah and I curled up on the couch watching the Cowboys vs. Raiders game. She is such a fan of the Cowboys. At least her Aunt Suzanna is proud of that. I just love football, as long as the game is a good one. My son, Ian dragging around 4 kids under the age of 7 with his legs. He'll be sore today. The laughter, the joy that resonated through the house. Frank, Cathy's brother getting lost for 3 hours on the way to the house. Gramma Mary's (Cathy's mom) elation at the gift we got her; a gingerbread ceramic house with a 3 wick candle for inside. Talk of cancer was shared among those who have gone before me, and the fact that there was a chemo nurse there helped too. We shared our war stories, but they quickly melted away into things that were merrier.

After dinner, Sarah and I fell into a turkey induced comma, and pretty much missed the rest of the game. We said our goodbyes, and I think I slept most of the way home. Today was to be Black Friday for us, but I think I'll just enjoy the day with my daughter as we have to pack her up and send her back to LA in the morning. I hate to see her go, but she must go back to work, so you can enjoy her too on Modern Family (ABC Wednesday nights @ 9pm est).

Life is good. The bad things, the low things, the twisted things can be pushed away, easily. Just focus on the joy, the laughter, and the love.

Happy Thanksgiving, and may it last you all the year round.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

THANKSGIVING LASTS ALL WEEK

November 25, 2009

Thanksgiving is more than one day. I have been thankful all of this week. I'm so thankful my daughter is home. I have missed her more than I thought. She makes me laugh, and calms my spirit. Her laugh is infectious. She arrived Sunday morning with no sleep on the red-eye, so needless to say she was red-eyed. We returned home and I made our Thanksgiving Dinner on Sunday while Sarah sat on the couch watching and yelling for the Dallas Cowboys. This is my little girl? The girl who HATED football? So into the game, knowing all the stats of every team in the NFL. I had to laugh, because this is a football house, and before she left for LA she swore she'd never be a fan. And here she sits the biggest fan there is. While Ian is my sou chef, helping me chop veggies, and helping in the kitchen. Role reversal. Funny how life evolves. We sit down to a wonderful dinner and laugh and talk just like old times. Stuffed to the gills, we waddle into the living room and watch tv, and wait for there to be room for pumpkin pie. Sunday was a wonderful day.

Monday is P/T day, and shopping for apartment stuff, taping one of my clients for college applications, and more shopping with Sarah. A full day, I'm tired but I press on, because this week is fleeting, and I don't want to miss a moment of the fun. WE go crazy getting kitchen stuff, and come home with a lot of stuff to ship. We are both exhausted, but can't sleep. I'm dreading Tuesday, chemo day. Sarah's birthday. #3 for me, and #19 for Sarah. Sarah spends the day and the night with her friends, as she should. She has a ball reconnecting with her true friends who love her for who she is, not what they want her to be. I haven't seen or heard her so happy. Not to say she doesn't have great friends in LA, they all just expect her to be someone she isn't. Me, on the other hand, choose a different tack, mainly because I couldn't get to sleep until 2am and then didn't sleep well all night long. So with 3 hours of sleep under my belt, I opted to sleep through chemo. It actually helped, I think. I don't feel as bad as I have with the past two sessions. Wednesday, I'm tired, but the nausea isn't so bad, I was able to make it through my neulasta injection and then go shopping with Sarah at Macy's. Wow, nothing great to get. So it was a bit of an empty session there, but Sarah did get a couple of cute things. We return home both so tired, but a good day was had by all. Sarah's friend spent the night and as per tradition, I made Banana Pancakes. Want a house full of girls? Make Banana Pancakes. My Banana Pancakes. From scratch.

Sleep is near, and Turkey Day is tomorrow. What to be thankful for? My life, My husband, my kids, my friends, my Mom, Luigi, today, yesterday, tomorrow, my kittys, joy, happiness, love, gifts, all that is good, all that is true. Yes, we all have much to be thankful for if only we take the time to look. It is the small things that matter. Big things are great, but it is the smile on a daughter's face as her best friend says something in code that cracks her up. It is the "YES!" from a son who just kicked butt on his video game. It is the hug that comes sneaking up on you from your husband. The out of the blue phone call, the unexpected reconnection to High School friends. It is being halfway through your chemo treatments, and the end is finally looking real. Thanksgiving may only come once a year, but we must look to extend it out, and be thankful every day. I know I look for the thankful things everyday now. It is so wonderful to find something to be thankful for. Try it, you'll make yourself happier, day by day.

Happy Thanksgiving, may your day be special and wonderful in every way.

Nite!

Love and Light!

Melissa

FUN = NOT WRITING

November 21, 2009 Saturday

Here's to feeling great. What a wonderful week I had. Never take a day for granted that you feel good. When you wake in the morning, and you feel alive, you are blessed. Dance twice this week, and it felt so good to dance. I got so caught up in it that I flick kicked too hard and aggravated my right knee that I hurt back in February. So I won't make it to dance today, it's okay, because I've got a lot to do today. Sarah arrives in the morning and I have to ready her room, get her Birthday present, clean the house, finish shopping for our early Thanksgiving Dinner tomorrow night, start prepping the dinner, make dinner for friends who are coming for dinner tonight, etc, etc, etc...

I am taking full advantage of my energy this week.

Thankful. that's what I am. And it comes at the right time. Thanksgiving. I have so much to be thankful for. My life, first and foremost. My husband is home, my son is an honor student, my daughter is on a hit series, and will be home for Thanksgiving and her birthday, my beautiful wonderful friends all over this country, my faith, my mom, my family, my in-laws, my cats, my awesome team of medical professionals, and the fact that I wake every morning to the most spectacular sunrises, and go to bed to the most incredible sunsets. Life is good. Poison is turned to medicine. Benefits are plenty. Negatives are rejected.

So I go to my day with as much energy as I have and grateful for it. A nap is on my to do list today so I make it through dinner. My excitement at my daughter arriving in the morning is a powerful drug, and it is hard to contain my tears of joy at the thought of hugging her tight to me; I miss her so much.

Be Thankful for the little things. I know I say the little things all the time, but it truly is the Little Things that matter. Big things are fine, but without the Little Things, life is empty. Find the joy in pushing your little one on a swing in the park, it will soon be a fading memory. Find bliss in the small hand that reaches up and strokes your face as your little one drifts off to sleep, that hand will soon be holding an IPhone 3,000 miles away from you and you won't get to feel that brush against your cheek. Smile when your son suddenly and without warning jumps on you and snuggles up to you, that moment is gone too soon. A smile from a stranger as you hold a door for them, say thank you to your City Bus Driver when you get off the bus at your stop, it means something to them. Just think how happy he/she would feel if even a third of the riders said thank you, and meant it.

Remember to tell your parents that you love them, for they are gone in a heartbeat, and then it's too late. Hug your husband or wife and let the petty fall to the ground, and laugh to yourself when they do something that annoys you. You knew they were like that when you married them, so what did you expect? Love life for all it's worth.

Nite!

Love and Light!

Melissa

HERE'S TO A GREAT WEEK

November 17, 2009 Tuesday

Week 3 of Chemo is the best week. The drugs have long worn off, the side effects have ebbed, and my energy has been restored. Yesterday was my P/T and I got new exercises, and Lauren is happy with my progress. I called Ed after P/T only to find out that he forgot to get Ian lunch while Ian was in his rehearsal for the showcase he is doing, and since I'm out I elect to get him lunch. One snag, I am on the Eastside of Manhattan, by the River and Ian is on the Westside by the Hudson River. So off I hike to Midtown and take a train up to 49th St and then hike the rest of the way. I get lunch for Ian, meet him then return him to school, and head for home. That added trip wiped me out. So exhausted climbing the steps from the subway my legs ached with lactic acid. The bag of food I'm carrying feels like a lead weight. I call Ed and ask him to meet me, and I'm only 6 blocks from home, but the idea of carrying the bag is too much for me. Energy zapped, I slowly walk up the Avenue, and Ed meets me just two blocks from home. I thought I'd sleep once I got upstairs but even that was hard. So I sat and stared at the TV and took in nothing. The plan of doing laundry, gone. The plan of preparing Sarah's part of the room, didn't happen. Just a blob on the couch the rest of the day. Finally, the bed called me and I answered. Sleep came and I woke in the morning ready to face the world.

Today was a day full of energy. I felt great! Ready for jazz class, and happy to see that the day was going to be spectacular. Class was, as always, great fun. It's always a pleasure to dance with Luigi. I wore all black and donned my red silk scarf on my head, very Luigi. My dear friends there to support me, and welcome me back even if it's just for the week. Then the nicest surprise, Curtis came to class. I haven't seen him in soooo long. A talented young man who I love to watch dance. He has such great spirit. A great combination, good friends, amazing talent, and Luigi. It doesn't get better than that. Trust me. The class is my best medicine.

So I returned home today, with a full appetite and loads of energy. But when the energy goes, it goes quickly and completely. So as I type this out with my weary fingers begging for bed, I'm remind myself what a great day I had. Three full days of Great. I intend to enjoy each and every day before next Tuesday's chemo treatment. My daughter will be here in 5 days, and that is the best medicine of all. A hug and a kiss from my beautiful girl. A week of seeing her every day.

Life is good, and I won't forget it.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

GOOD FOOD GOOD FRIENDS

November 15, 2009 Sunday

Explosions are good. They shake things up and when the dust settles things are clearer, and stress is relieved. I woke on Friday feeling so much better. My chemo fog was lifting from my guts although the IBS issues continued but with less of the discomfort. Friday was Parent/Teacher Conference for our son, Ian. Ian's first year in High School, and Ian was nervous about what his grades would be, certain they would be less than A's, he runs on and on that we shouldn't expect what he normally got in Middle School, hoping for B's but afraid of C's. My quiet confidence in him unshaken. So I let him ramble on with excuse after excuse as we walked to the school. You have to understand something about Ian, he is Wicked Smart, and knows it. Those who know him, know just how smart he is. I've been blessed with incredibly smart children, both High Honors students, Math and Science ~ Excelling, Writing ~ Brilliant!, Language ~ good Ears! We wait in the hallway for the Guidance Advisor. At Beacon the parent meets with only the Guidance Advisor, a much more civilized way of doing this school business. If there is a problem, a meeting is set up with the teacher for the class in question. Did I say I LOVE BEACON? Cuz I do. We are met by Ian's Guidance Advisor/Bio-Chem teacher, a kind man who reminds me of Oliver Sacks. Jolly and open with a full beard wizened with grey. We introduce ourselves and he takes in a deep breath, Ian pales a little and Mr. Rosenbluth says, "Well, Ian is just simply doing fantastic." The report card slides across the table and there they are, A's, A-'s, and two B+'s. Spanish and Bio-Chem get the B+'s, but the comments are those two grades are so close to A-'s that even that is negligible. A great participator, asks great questions, always ready to work. The Spanish grade can come up if he goes to tutoring the day before quizzes and tests. The science grade will come up because the teacher is certain that Ian understands how the class works now. We discuss Ian working on a showcase that will have him missing some classes during the next couple of months, but we have tutors at the ready, and Ian understands that it is on him, the big test of his organizational skills to keep his grades up. We shake hands and exit laughing and feeling so PROUD!

We do some errands and head home to rest for the rest of the night. Dinner at Roe's house. Dinner at Roe's house is always a fun evening. Our friends Michael and Elle come up from Florida, Mark and Alice come from Brooklyn and then our host, the lovely Rosemarie, aka Roe. Roe thinks of everything. Knowing my chemo malady and limited food palette, Roe has made food just for me, and food for everyone else. Mark and Alice bring their Swedish Meatballs (of which I can't have Boo!), and Michael and Elle arrive fashionably late. Much is made of my new "Hairdo" the head tied up in a scarf learned from the woman from Trinidad days earlier. We speak only briefly of the cancer, and quickly move on to better topics. Good Friends, Good Food, and then Mark and Alice break out Christmas presents for all of us. I get a lovely vintage Echo scarf (eat your hearts out), Ed and the others get videos and CD's of music put together by Mark. We move to dinner and while others munch on meatballs and Lemon Roasted Chicken, I get the special chicken made just for me. Although the chicken is simply made with no seasoning, it is delicious. Beets, yummy. Noodles, plain but I needed seconds. Asparagus, perfect. I suddenly had an appetite. Michael teases me to slow down, and can't believe how much I'm eating. But it was so good, I couldn't stop. Dessert arrives, Tiramisu for the masses, canned peaches for the Queen. We laugh and joke about me taking out advertising on my bald head to help pay for chemo. Any takers? It will be expensive. ; P

But all good things come to an end. Cinderella stayed too long at the Ball, and when this Cinderella stays too long, the bathroom is the pumpkin. The rest of my evening was locked in the bathroom. Shit. Figuratively and Literally. Ed helps me into a cab and I sleep all the way home. Chemo related IBS I Hate you. You ruin my fun. Yesterday was spent resting and feeling gurgly and gross.

I watched the heart-stopping Nebraska vs. Kansas game. Of which Nebraska won. GO BIG RED!! But really guys, I stayed too long at the Ball last night, you could have played more convincingly, that would have helped my gut. I tried to clean the kid's room to prepare for Sarah's return for the Holiday, but only got as far as the declaration. Perhaps today, but I doubt it. For I have things to do, places to go, and people to meet. I'm having a girl's out Brunch and then I coach my college bound girl for two hours this evening. Maybe the boys will surprise me with a clean organized room upon my return. Come on, one can dream...

Here's to a week full of feeling good. I plan on Dance class this week, my goal, three classes. My daughter returns in one week. My son is an Honor Student, and I have wonderful friends!

IBS is an annoyance, it doesn't rule my life. I have more good than bad in my life. I'm lucky! I'm blessed! I'm still here!

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

EXPLOSIONS

November 12,2009 Thursday

Well, it's been several days since last I posted. Funny how time flies when you don't feel good. The past few days have been filled with nausea, IBS, and just plain not feeling good. I'm more tired now. So I guess my hemoglobin is dropping. And with my not feeling good, my temper and my patience have lost control. Yesterday was the boiling over point for me. I lost my temper and my emotions over something so stupid and mundane, it shakes me. I guess I should have known, my "horoscope" called it.

Anyone who triggers your feelings will receive a signal (and the transmission quality will be very loud and very clear) that their challenge has been accepted. Whether or not they intended this little emotional prod to be a dare of sorts won't matter. Your response will be the same. Duck!

Should have listened. But I was in a good mood to start the day, even though I was fighting the nausea. Saw the shoulder surgeon who removed my lypoma on my shoulder for the 6 week follow-up and even though it took an hour to be seen, the wait was worth it. While waiting in the waiting area I spied with my little eye a beautiful African-American woman who lit up the room. Dressed to impressed in lime green linen and big bold gold net spun earrings and a scarf tied in a way I just had to know how it was done. So I asked her. She jumped up sat down next to me and said, "I could show you, it's easy." So right there, she unfurls the scarf and demonstrates with the ease of a pro just how to do it. The waiting room was amazed as we sat there and watched in awe. Then she says to me, "You can do it with that scarf." and points to my pashmina laying next to me. I find myself unfurling the silk scarf I was wearing and reveal the my very bald head. The woman looks at me and says, "Why would you want to cover that beautiful head?" The "crowd" agrees, and I respond, "Because it's cold today." We all laugh and I have my lesson on tying a long scarf to look like a bun set tight to the nape of my neck. We became fast friends, Cancer has a way of doing that. She from Trinadad with a daughter she misses in Boston, Me a New Yorker who misses her daughter in Los Angeles. We spoke only briefly of our maladies. We focused on being moms, and how inspiring our daughters were to us. Then the long wait was over, and we both wished the doctors had taken longer to see us.

I got a good report from the doctor, who will see me in 6 months to follow up. The visit lasted :60, the report, "Well, you certainly heal quickly. Whatever you are doing, keep it up. See you in 6 months." And we were gone. The visit was not a waste of time, however, I learned how to do a great "hairdo", and met an inspirational woman who will battle her cancer way longer than I. Ed and I head home, and the nausea returns, the cramping the frequent visits to the bathroom and then, my day implodes with a series of unwanted phone calls.

The errant fax call. The wrong number, over and over again. Every two minutes. I know who the intended fax is for and today is the wrong day to be annoying me with this. Remember this company's name ~ BALTER SALES. The bane of my land line existence for the past 20 years. For years now we have received calls from companies trying to place their fork, glass, and plate orders for their restaurants with us. They call us, "Balter Sales?" They fax us, (*&*^&^$^%$*&beep...beep...beep. Years ago, when I didn't have the money, I even went out and got a fax machine to make it stop. Once I received the faxes I'd call the companies to tell them of their error. I was usually met with rudeness and disdain. I found that odd since I was trying to help them (No good dead goes unpunished) So I would call Balter Sales and oddly enough was met with the same rudeness and disdain and they even went so far as to say that we were somehow to blame for this. Over the years Balter Sales has become the enemy. Irene, Iris, and Linda (the office workers?) are the biggest Bitches on the planet. Here I call to HELP them out. The last time I spoke with Linda I promised her that if she didn't fix the problem I would simply accept the faxes and shred them, because I was not obligated to help her out. She told me I was evil. She told me to change my phone number. Something we will NOT do since we've had this number for over 30 years. Not going to happen. I've suggested they send out a special memo to the companies that they serve with their fax number extra big and suggest that the persons sending faxes double check to make sure they have entered the number correctly. "Why on Earth would we do that?! We don't have to help you." Well, I don't have to help them. Times is Hard Mr. Todd, and when you practice bad business, bad business will bring you down.

So that is the back story, back to yesterday. Ed was jumping up every two minutes to hang up the phone, so I, in my impatience with the 'toddler' game, flared, "Just plug in the fax, it's probably for Balter!" Ed struggled with the tangle of cords just to find the damn fax jack, plugs it in just in time for the phone to start again. The fax machine jumps to life, and spews out exactly what I thought would happen, an order for Glassware and FORKS. Thanksgiving is coming when the Balter Sales faxes come pouring in. So I told Ed to call the company and let them know they dialed the wrong number and they need to recheck. Ed does not listen to me, he calls Balter Sales. WHY!? WHY DID HE DO THIS?! They immediately jump on him, I could hear Irene, with her obnoxious Brooklyn dialect all nasally. Ed is like, hey I'm trying to help you out here. So I interject, because I know what's going to happen next, "Just hang up and let them suffer the consequences. He tells me to be quiet. Which angers me. So I snort and say let Ed suffer the consequences. Back and forth they go, with Ed trying to give constructive advice, and the bitch on the other end of the line giving him hell. So finally, he gets Linda on the phone, and the whole ANNOYING thing starts all over again. So I interject again. "She does so know who this is, we go way back Linda, remember?" Ed tells me to SHUT UP. I say, "No!, just hang up on them, they will only change things when they start losing business. Shred the order." Ed tells me to GDamn it, woman, shut the Hell up. So, it's going to be like that is it? I jump up, slap him as hard as I can storm to my room and slam the door, and begin to cry, cry hard. Not because of Balter Sales, not because Ed said shut the Hell up, but because I just feel so crappy, and I hate what I'm going through, and I hate feeling nauseous all the time, and I hate that I've forgotten to put me first AGAIN. I hate that I'm trying to be all upbeat and funny when what I want, what I need is to curl up in a ball and have someone strong hold me tight and tell me to cry and they will take care of everything. Go ahead be afraid, be weak, be sad, be anything you want, I've got it all covered. But I'm married to an actor, who always comes home in the true form of actor convinced that he will never work again, weighed down with a wife who has cancer,who is usually the rock, the pep squad, the normalizer. An Unemployment claim that is totally messed up and of course we are getting the raw end of the deal. Add a little anxiety and I fall back into the mode of "It's not about you, keep Ed happy...." Well, Damnit! It is about me right now. I'm mad, I'm scared, I'm sad, I'm frustrated, I'm not feeling well, the list goes on and on.

Ed comes back and yells at me, I tell him to go away, I do not want him in the same room with me. Ian comes back confused, I yell at both of them, "GO AWAY!!!!!! BOTH OF YOU!!!!" Ian knows when to leave, Ed remains. My anger, frustration, fear, sorrow, the reality of being cut up and into, and now poisoned spew from me in hot angry flows of magma and ash and scalding steam. "LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!! I HATE YOU RIGHT NOW!!!! I HATE EVERYTHING!!!!!" I get hysterical and sob uncontrollably, and Ed stung with hurt and anger himself, storms out of the room. I cried for a long time and after a period of time comes a timid knock at the door. I knew it was Ian. He enters quietly, curls up next to me, and says, "I love you Momma." I melt into tears once again, but these tears are gratitude. My strong brave son knew without being told exactly what I needed. A HUG. He held me for quite awhile and stroke my bald head and told me I was beautiful. My anger calmed, my frustration ebbed, and my fear receded. I have the most wonderful boy in the world, and the girl who will land him in the end will be the luckiest girl in the world. Compassionate, kind, and loving. Ian in three words.

Eventually, Ed and I made up. Obviously, the danger of not living every feeling, the danger of stuffing down emotions to spare others has a cost, Explosions. Lesson learned. Not a perfect day, Wednesday night and no Modern Family, no definitely not a perfect day. But I learned how to tie a scarf that makes me look like royalty.

Today, is a day to make up for yesterday's wrongs. Balter Sales will never receive a fax received here. They will never be called again as a helpful neighbor. I intend to make good on the promise to print their faxes and promptly shred them. I don't have to take care of anyone but me right now. People who don't want to help themselves and blame others for their problems are banned from my house. So tough luck Balter. Good luck with your business, you've done it to yourself. How about you change your phone numbers. HA!

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

HEARTBURN

November 8, 2009 Sunday

We all suffer from heartburn at one time or another. The spicy buffalo wings on Game Night, or too much pepperoni pizza out with the gang, we all have felt the burn. Usually the burn is the end result of too much fun, too much food, too much drink, but when the heartburn comes from Chemo, it just plain sucks. We take Tums, Rolaids, Baking Soda, Alka-Seltzer, Pepcid, Prilosec, the list goes on and on. They all pretty much work for the normal garden variety heartburn. For Chemo heartburn... not so good! You don't have to eat or drink anything too offensive; just eat or drink. The burn is not so much a burn but a sour feeling, full of gas that bubbles up in burning spurts. Peppermint chewing gum works for a bit, but how much gum can a person chew in one day? So it seems unfair that the mildest thing, such as Oatmeal, can cause such upset all day long. so a Chemo patient nibbles on things, bread, crackers, protein, WATER!!! But still the sour lingers, the pickling of the liver and gall bladder, I suppose. NO tomatoes, NO orange juice, NO spice of any kind! No Ketchup, No Mustard, No Vinegar, No FLAVOR!!! And make no mistake about it, Black Pepper is NOT your friend and should be avoided at all cost.

Such is my day. Full of sour burn. Tired of burning my throat with chemo acid. Tired, just tired from the the chemo, the drugs. It's the Sunday after Chemo, never a good day. I didn't sleep well, yet I had a hard time waking up. Once up, I kept lagging into that half there daze. Ed and I went over to Kung Fu with Ian, and that was so great to see Seymour and Burt and the kids. We ducked into our local Starbucks for tea and my nibble (hard-boiled egg and bagel kit) and lo and behold ran into a dear friend. So we hugged and chatted, caught up and then Ian finished class, we sat a while longer, and returned home to get Ian ready for Ballroom class. By then the sour heartburn set in for the rest of the day, not to be relieved. So I rested, propped up, as any good chemo patient will tell you, and drank my water, ate my Pepcid (doesn't work, don't know WHY I waste the money) and then met Ian later to buy him a pair of new sneakers since the Converse he owns are taped to his feet. With new sneakers in tow, a trip to Whole Foods, a bag full of greens, beets, ginger root, and carrots, Ed and I head home to try yet another "remedy". Juicing.

Juicing is great! I own a juicer, and the fresh taste can't be beat. The mixture of apple, beet, carrot, Chard, and ginger root is so refreshing, that I wonder why we dropped doing it at all. But even though the juice is excellent, and I thoroughly enjoy it, the sour burn remains. Dinner doesn't sound good, because it matters little what I put on my tongue, it will be sour in the end. Juicing I will continue, because I know it is good for me. Fresh ingredients, right there, at the ready. As for the heartburn, just a Damn nuisance. Any ideas??? Please don't hesitate to let me know. I'll try anything at least once and give it a try if it will cut the burn, the sour, the irritation of my esophagus.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

END OF THE WEEK

November 7, 2009 Saturday

We are always thankful for the end of the week. A weekend of No Work. To be able to sleep in, perchance. To spend time with your family. Get chores done, you couldn't get done during your busy week. Go see a movie, hang with friends, or go on a date....For me, the end of this week is acupuncture. Thank God for that. I woke this morning feeling completely disjointed. My mind in a complete fog. How I hate the steriods. They make you so fuzzy. I feel like one of those actors on the Soaps who have been slipped a 'mickey' and the camera blurs in and out, and the room "spins", and the only thing I don't get is the Hot Guy right before the actress passes out. Dang it!

So I get up and get a bowel of shredded wheat and soy milk, since Milk kills my gut. The world is asleep, Ian and Ed both snoozing away this morning while I, poor soul, can't sleep, but feel as if at any moment I will pass out. So I harvest on Farmville, my new obsession, check email, cut checks, and do paperwork. All the while wishing I could sleep. Ed soon wakes up and joins me, followed by the dragging heels of my tousle-headed teenage boy. The house slowly comes to life, and I find I have to get ready for acupuncture. So I head for the shower and feel very uncertain about being in the shower by myself. This fog is so annoying. I grip the soap dish for balance and shower and with it try to wash the fog away, it doesn't work. By the time I'm done with my shower, I feel the need to lay down to get my center.

Mom calls, and she sounds so happy to be home. I'm happy for her, she must have missed her friends so much. Her house is covered in dust from being away so long, being she lives in Surprise, AZ. Dust is a big problem out there. But she doesn't care, she is home, with her friends, and majong, and her big comfy chairs. I'm so glad she came to help out while Ed was gone, and it is not lost on me the sacrifice she made for me, especially on her back since we lack comfortable seating. We speak for a bit, but I realize I have to go to acupuncture. So Ed and I bolt out the door, leaving Ian to his own devices.

I adore Jackie Payne! She is so good. After treatment, I feel better, my gut is calmer, my head less fuzzy, and my appetite is back. I still have balance issues, that usually stays for several days after chemo. That is why I have Ed with me, to keep me on the platform. ; P We head downtown to meet Ian at Union Square Park to give the teenager $$ to hang with his friends, Happy Birthday Maddy! and then we head to Pret a Manger to share a sandwich before I go to Toso at SGI (chanting). I tried to go for an hour, but my heartburn kicks in and makes it impossible to continue, so 15 minutes into chanting I have to stop, and admit defeat for today. I clearly did too much today. So I return home with Ed who selflessly makes dinner. And Ed making dinner is a Big Deal, because I knew he couldn't cook when I met him. But it was a good steak dinner with sweet potatoes and asparagus.

So now I search to watch Nebraska play Oklahoma and hope that Nebraska will think of me tonight and play like the Huskers of yester-year. Go Black Shirts, don't forget the gal who cheered for you during the labor of her first borne. Go go Huskers. Go Big Red!!!!!

Give me a perfect ending of a good day. WIN UNL WIN.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

TV CANCER SUPPORT

November 5, 2009 Thursday

I would like to take the time to thank all the shows out there that are supporting me and all the other cancer patients out there. First there's JR on All My Children who went so far as to really shave his head on TV, Live! I hope to look so good through all the chemo that has him puking his guts out all the time. His color is awesome! and in only a two month period of time, he is in remission with his Leukemia. Amazing!!!! Wonder how long it will last? Next I'd like to thank Callista Flockhart for bravely taking on Kitty's Lymphoma. Only problem I have is how bad she looked after just one treatment. She looked to be on death's door. Already sunken in with dark circles? Come on. Don't scare us. We don't look that bad on the first chemo treatment. Maybe it's because she needs to eat a burger. She hasn't lost her hair yet, will she? Or will she be too vain to take it all off? Felicity Huffman wasn't too scared to shave on Desperate Housewives...come on Callista, don't be a wimp. Izzy on Grey's Anatomy, with her Brain Crazy Cancer, and how she beat the odds, yet now, she won't show up for her treatments; just Bone-Headed. But major props goes to S. Epatha Merkerson on Law & Order. She is the best of the best. Her performance believable, her struggle real, she rocks my world and makes me believe I can do it. I can live with the treatment and do all that I need to do. So while I struggle with this Cancer, and the treatment I thank the writers and producers and the actors out there bringing it forward and not letting us sweep it under the rug.

Today, I am tired. Very tired, but I managed to do the laundry with the help of Ed, my wonderful husband. I am so ready for bed, and will head there soon. The meds make me sleepy, and the nausea is beginning to come on for the weekend. Thank God I have an acupuncturist appointment on Saturday. So with all the great cancer themes out there in TV land, I thank you on behalf of all of us struggling with Cancer. Glad to share the journey with you all. Just do us proud.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

DAY AFTER CHEMO #2

November 4, 2009 Wednesday

What a difference a session makes. I went to my Chemo #2 yesterday, got my bloods drawn, and headed up to the Doctor's office to have my check up before chemo and get the results of the morning blood draw. And the news continues to be good. My white blood cell count is 10,400 (very good), my hemoglobin was 11 down from 11.4. Still, not so bad. If it drops below 11 we'll have to discuss transfusion, anyone out there in the NYC area a clean O+? Just in case? So after the usual, "You amaze me that you don't look sick" discussion and how much he loved my wig, Dr. Speyer sent me downstairs for Chemo. By the way, I made him openly laugh. And now I'm convinced he is related to Ed Begley, Jr., because when I told him my wig was Sarah's from a prior Halloween, he responded, " Well, good for you! You are going green by reusing, recycling, reducing!" Gotta be at least a cousin.

I head downstairs to Chemo treatment. Tuesday was super crowded at the center. My appointment was at 12:30pm, but it was 10:45am, so Cathy and I waited in the waiting room, and I was telling Cathy that she really must quit smoking and I thought that chanting would help her. I said whenever she feels the urge to smoke she should take that moment to chant Nam Moyoho Renge Kyo until the urge goes away. This will help you to quit. So we sat discussing what it's done to help me, and a beautiful African-American woman approached us, and asked, "Are you a practicing Buddhist?" To which I responded, "Are you a member of SGI?" And from there we were fast friends. She is from Queens and has been chanting for over 30 years. Our journeys linked together by Breast Cancer. Funny how that happens. Both of us positive happy souls, taking this Winter on with the assured knowledge of the impending Spring. So we promised to chant for each other, and I hope to be there when the bell rings three times for her when her chemo is done. She was called in for treatment, and I felt so happy that I've met someone who gets the power of those amazing words ~ Nam Moyoho Renge Kyo.

I got called in at Noon, but the fancy chairs weren't available so a got a room with a bed, which turned out to be better for me that day, because Ed joined us and the room was larger than the chair rooms, and I got to lay down and fade in and out. Cathy and I ordered lunch and each gave the other one half of our sandwiches because we both couldn't decide which one to get. We shared stories, and watched One Life To Live and I got high on Benadryl and Ed showed up, and we had a great time. My Chemo nurse Katy is leaving to work with Kids with Cancer at Sloan Kettering. I just Know they will love her, she is so sweet. I will miss her, and somehow I didn't get her, but I got my daughter's namesake, Sarah. Sarah is from Canada, and she is so cute! So I'm hoping that I get to have her for the rest of the time I have chemo. I was at the center for 7 hours!!!! The Pharmacy sent up a recalled Carboplatin bag in which the tubing had been recalled because it made the IV pump falsley read large air bubbles. So we tried to make it work, but of course it didn't, so we had to wait for the pharmacy to send up a good bag, and that ate the time. So we finally got sprung at 5PM and headed home.

I have to say, I felt pretty great. I lacked that disorientation this time around, no headache, no super doped. We got home and Ed's co-actor in Seafarer, Michael Judd, called and was in the neighborhood at a restaurant and invited us over. We had just gotten back from the market, but we tossed everything into the frig and headed over to see Michael because he is heading back to Ireland today, and who knows when we'll see him again. What a great evening. I had Lentil soup. Very mild, not spicy! And it tasted so great! We met new people, and they were as lovely as Michael. But par for the course, My energy began to wane, so we said our goodbyes, and promised Michael that we would come visit in Ireland next year, because Ian had declared it so. I came home, printed sides for Ian for his auditions today, ran lines, and crashed into bed.

I slept so easily last night, and I woke up refreshed and happy, feeling good, not sick like last time. No headache, no nausea, no gurgling bowel. So what was the difference? I spoke to the Doctor about the issues I had. The headaches, the IBS symptoms and the unending diarreha, and we all came to the same conclusion, that I must have had a virus. The low-grade fever should have been a sign, I just didn't put it all together. We discussed a different plan of attack should the Grip return, and I'm confident that I won't have this issue with this Treatment.

Today is a busy day, I have to take Ian to two auditions, a play and a pilot. Ed has two commercial auditions, and at 5PM I head up to the Cancer Center for my Neulasta injection. Then I'll tuck in for the night, kiss my boys, and hopefully get the dates from Sarah so I can book her flight home for Thanksgiving. Then I'll crawl into bed with my sweetie and sleep peacefully.

I have so much to be thankful for, and they are the simple things. Be appreciative of the simple things, The Big Things are random and wonderful, however, they are often times far apart. It is the simple things, the everyday mundane, teeny tiny happy things that matter the most. So find at least 3 things today that make you happy. Something that just makes that smile creep across your face. Life is good, you just have to open your eyes and your heart to get it.

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa

THE DAY BEFORE CHEMO #2

November 3, 2009 Tuesday

Yesterday was the day before Chemo #2, and boy did I make the most of it. My day started with prepping The Red Menace Wig that won my FB Wig of the Week Contest. I put on makeup! Something I rarely do. Donned my wig and headed out the door for my P/T with mom. Lauren loved my look. Mom took pictures to prove I wore the wig about town. While out I wore my new silk Oscar scarf and my big sunglasses to hold the hairs in place, and Mom said I looked like Jackie O! Well, why wouldn't I? My daughter had played Jackie for 2 1/2 years in Grey Gardens! Of course I did. After P/T, which is going along quite well, thank you, we jumped in a cab and headed across town to Luigi. I promised I'd be there, no matter what, and I had a lot of gals expecting me. Stuck in traffic, thanks a lot Dancing With The Stars, we finally gave up and walked the last three blocks. I quick changed into my dance gear, and headed into class. Luigi was leading the last set of stretches and suddenly his class abandoned him, and headed toward me for hugs. Luigi was like, "Who is hugging my class?" "It's me, Melissa, wearing my wig!" "Why the Hell are you wearing a wig?" So I lifted my wig to show my bald head. He hugged me. We all laughed and went back to work. Just doing the last group of exercises, the cool down, had me all heated up from the wig, so I took it off and danced sans wig. What a freeing experience. I love this class, and I know I've said this before, but I'll say it frequently, because when you have something this special, you will praise it all the time. Here is a group of beautiful women and men who share a love of dance. Most of us danced as a career in the past, most of us can't dance professionally any more, but the dance never left us, and the desire lives on, and this class feeds our souls. It's Group Therapy. We support each other, and we laugh, and have fun, and we are still pretty damn good. We range in age from as young as 8 to 84. We are short and tall, thin and full-figured, fully-abled and disabled, and still we move, we never stop moving. Luigi is our medicine. He always makes you fill like the star. He is encouraging, exacting, and always kind. He imparts stories from years gone by, and has the most sayings of anyone I know. The best known ~ Never Stop Moving! My favorite ~ Put it in the Right Place Before You Make the Move. And ~ When You Learn Something Wrong and Do It Long Enough That Way, You Learn It Right Wrong. So to my Mentor, I LOVE you from the bottom of my heart! Thank you for sharing your heart, your skill, your story.

After dance, a dear friend, Ester, took mom and me to lunch across the street to a small French Bistro. I love this woman. She is tiny, and full of energy. Ester is 84 years Young! She moves like she's 30 and dresses just as hot. She always looks fantastic, and always has a smile on her face. Her face is care worn, and yet she looks youthful and as if she has 84 years to live. We had a wonderful time, so wonderful that we lost track of time and Mom and I had to rush to get back downtown so I wouldn't be late for my coaching client at four. I met with my two clients who are coming along nicely, and I tried to emulate the same encouraging spirit of Luigi. Sharing my knowledge and supporting the theory of Getting it in the right place before making the move. It's harder with acting, the concepts aren't physical, rather mental. Get your head in that right place before you open your mouth. See that sky, that room you're in. Feel the mood, the emotion before you open your mouth. Imagination is a funny thing. Some have imagination in spades, others must learn what it is.

Ed was home when we got to the house. It's so wonderful to have him home. My other half is here now, to help me go on, and now Mom packs to return to her home in Arizona after being gone for 2 months. Ian got back from school and after my last client we headed up to the movie theater to see Zombieland. What a sick twisted movie. Laughing in places we shouldn't, oh so many wrong things. Bill Murray and his cameo, best thing EVER! We had so much fun, it was truly back to normal. I'll take one day of normal over weeks of so-so. It doesn't even matter that today I dive back into Hell. I had such a wonderful day yesterday that it will carry me through the week.

My mom left for the airport this morning to return to Arizona. Ed drove her there and will meet me at the cancer center later. My son has the day off from school, and will hang with his friends. Cathy, my BFF will be my Chemo buddy today, and I will don my Red Menace Wig to make my oncologist laugh. More pictures will be taken to prove I wore it. I will talk to someone about getting a real wig to wear and drugs will be given, the drug induced high will come on me, and I will remember little for the next few days. But that said, I love my life. I'm happy, and know that I am winning this battle. I feel not just good, but GREAT! A positive attitude, a good healthy dose of humor, a circle of beautiful friends, a family that loves you, and an awesome team of health care providers makes the difference, not to mention faith makes for the best outcome. I've learned that you don't just need this when faced with an obstacle like mine, this is available to you every single day. Be good to yourself today, do something that makes you laugh from deep inside you, and tell that special someone just how much you love them, even if it means taking a risk. You never know, you may get the same in reply. In the wise words of Edie Beale, "Choose to Be Happy!"

Nite!

Love and Light!

Melissa

BAD HAIR DAYS

November 1, 2009 Sunday

My hair started coming out in handfuls on Friday, and I knew it was time to take it all off. I made my appointment at Emilio Antonio's Hair Studio with Louis for Saturday @ 3:30pm. Yesterday, we made a day of it. If I knew I was going to have a "Bad Hair Day" I was going out in style. So my mom, BFF Cathy, and I headed over to Tea & Sympathy for just that. Lovely tea in lovely teapots with eggs and scones with clotted cream (whipped butter, but better) and jam. We had a wonderful time drinking our tea, eating our scones and chatting away. After that we headed for my place for a bit and then I grabbed the camera and the Flip and off we went to record the worst haircut ever. I went with a sense of adventure. Excited and nervous. What would I look like with no hair? Would my head be oddly shaped? Would I have lumps and dents? First Louis cut off most of the length, and then the clippers came out. Layer by layer my hair fell to the floor. First the "color", then the greys under the color, shorter and shorter my hair got, and whiter and whiter revealing the true nature of my premature greys. From my cute Bob to Italian Boy cut, to G.I. Jane to Daddy Warbucks, the transitions followed faster and faster. Then I was bald. No hair, only fuzz. My scalp didn't hurt anymore. You know the hurt. The scalp pain you get when you wear your hair in a pony tail too tight all day long. That WAS my scalp. To wash my hair was painful, and with every pull through more hair would come out in seemingly endless fistfuls. I'm so glad I took my hair off. No Pain! My head looks good, no bumps or lumps, no scars. So for Halloween I was Britney Spears in meltdown mode. I even carried an umbrella just in case the photogs were following me. We spent a lot of time laughing as my hair came off. I thought I would cry before I went in, but I surprised myself with how happy I was with this choice. No tears, just laughter.

Other Bad Hair days from the past did not end this well. My first Bad Hair Day was when I was in Kindergarten in Independence, MO. I got in trouble in class one day because I yelled at a girl who kept playing with my hair. She was annoying me and wouldn't leave my hair alone. I yelled and got in trouble and had to sit in the corner while the True Offender got off Scot-free. So my best friend, Roger D. Mangles and I decided to fix it. When we got off the bus that afternoon we grabbed a pair of scissors went to my room and cut off ALL of my hair, and I do mean ALL of my hair. My mom came into the room and almost had a heart attack. There were sections of my hair that had been taken down to the scalp. She called her hairdresser who didn't seem concerned. "I have seen this many times, I can fix it, bring her in." Well an hour and half later, like a surgeon who failed to save the critically wounded patient came out to my mom and lowered the boom. "I have tried everything I know. I can't believe what she's done. I can't fix it." It was with those words that I realized my error, and full of remorse I burst into tears. To add to the punishment, Class pictures were the very next day. I begged my mom to let me stay home, but she was tough, she made me go. Let the punishment fit the crime. My mom ordered extra tiny pictures, although she'll swear she didn't, but many years later, Roger and I ended up at the same College and one morning on the Callboard in the Theater Department, there was a whole sheet of me with Bad Hair, looking dorky, smiling, but dorky. With a huge arrow pointing it out, with a sign that read, "Who is this girl now?" I laughed, but still wanted to kill Roger! I had no idea he had a whole sheet of tiny pictures of our shared crime to hair. I forgave him and we burned the sheet in solidarity. My mom thinks she still has a few of those pictures, I can only hope she doesn't.

Bad Hair Day #2 came just two years later. I worked so hard to grow out my hair, and my mom wanted me to get a hair cut for the Summer. She dropped me at "Cut and Curl" told the stylist she wanted me to have a cut that could easily go from the pool to dinner table with ease. My mom left me to this person, this criminal against hair. I sat there fuming as the stylist hacked my hair almost as short as I had done just two years prior. The tears welling in my eyes, and I bit them back bitterly as the locks fell to the bib and hit the floor like dead birds. My beautiful locks gone in just a few terrifying moments. When my mom came back from running her errand, I saw that look on her face again, the one from two years prior, and she was like, "What did you do? You cut off all of her hair. I didn't mean that!" I quietly slid from the chair and began to carefully pick up my locks, my beautiful dark brown curly locks. A shampoo girl asked me if I wanted to keep them, and that she could get me a box to put my hair into. I nodded with tears rolling down my cheeks. The stylist said, "Isn't that cute. Are you going to make Barbie wigs?" My cold heartless hate-filled reply, "No! I'm going to glue it all back on." I hated my hair, I looked like a boy. And there I was once again with a Bad Haircut and years of short hair. I wouldn't cut my hair except for a trim for many years. Too traumatized to sit in a stylist's chair. And every time we drove past Cut & Curl, I'd stare at that business willing it to burn to the ground. When it closed many years later, I couldn't help but feel that justice had been served, and I had played a part in it's demise.

Bad Hair Day #3 came while I lived in Los Angeles. I was getting ready to go back to Nebraska to tour with Nebraska Theater Caravan's A Christmas Carol to play Martha Cratchit. My hair was longer now, and I loved it. I took my headshot with me to the stylist recommended by my boyfriend at the time. I showed the picture and insisted it look just like the shot. The stylist agreed and with that took the front of my hair and hacked off all but 3 inches of hair. I grabbed the stylists wrist and the steely gaze of the 7 year old now emboldened with age said, "What the Hell do you think you are doing?" The stylist replied, "I just thought you'd look cuter with layers." I couldn't believe that this idiot ignored my insistence that the look remain the same. He continued to hack and so I got up, told him to F*ck off and started to head out. My hair was ruined!! I looked like one of the singers from Aerosmith, and that would have been okay IF I were a guy, and IF that were the look I was going for. But I NEEDED to look like Martha Cratchit!!! Not some Mullet head. As I started for the door the stylist said, "Hey! You have to pay. " I spun on my heel and demanded the owner. The owner came up, I told him what I requested, what I got, and that under NO circumstances would I pay for something that was the opposite of what I requested. The owner apologized and fired the stylist on the spot. I returned to Omaha devastated, went to see my stylist, Tommy, who burst into tears when he saw me. That didn't help because I burst into tears, and there we were two sloppy tear-jerks crying over a Bad Hair Cut. Needless to say, that to correct the cut I lost over 10" of hair and had to wear an Asian wig that made look like I was the child born to the milkman in a sea of blonde and light brown children. I had pitch black long hair to my waist. I loved the wig, but I so looked out of place.

I've had other Bad Hair Days, but mostly of my own doing, and not worth mentioning. So on the scale of Bad Hair Days where does this one rank? I'll keep the order I have, this is the 4th Bad Hair Day of my Life. But with each and every Bad Hair Day comes this reminder. Hair grows back, it is only temporary. So I'll be bald for a while, so what! I'm alive and getting better. I look good bald, I get to wear crazy wigs, and I've started a FB Wig of the Week contest and the votes are in, and the Red Menace wins. So I'll be donning a Magenta Red wig this week everywhere I go. It's only hair.

Nite~!

Love and Light!

Melissa