Let's Go Crazy

On the list of places I would have rather been this weekend, this tops the list.

Prince. Playing live. Covering Radiohead.

C'mon. That's too cool for mere words.

Bad Day

Things could be worse for you. Seriously. Whoever you are reading this. Especially if you're a man.

In fact, according to this story, if you aren't careful you could simply lose what the good lord gave ya.

Reminds me of this excellent King Missile Song...

Middle of the Road

Sometimes I talk about writing a book. At first it was going to be about twins...then I thought maybe a novel someday.

Then, I truly thought this whole breast cancer thing might be the ticket. I'm still playing around with the idea of a "Girlfriend's Guide to Breast Cancer" where the info is less medical and more real life. Like, say, the best way to work through stuffing your bra and such.

In the meantime, I've also been asked a gazillion questions about what I've experienced, what the doctors have said and how I feel about the entire ordeal.

If you know me...or anyone who has been diagnosed with breast cancer...read this book. Done. Now you know. She's an awesome writer, it's a great read, and she describes it all much better than I could have. So, one less book for me to write!

Good Times, Bad Times

Some pros and cons of breast cancer:

PRO: knowing in a very real, immediate sense, that you are loved and supported

CON: the toll this takes on those who love and support you

PRO: perspective

CON: perspective

PRO: the potential for a free brazilian wax, without the wax!

CON: the potential for extremely unattractive, puffy face with no hair

PRO: a great excuse to get out of ANYTHING you don't feel like doing

CON: not feeling like doing fun things

More on these later....

More Than Words

I love this!

I haven't gone beyond level 40, but I could spend hours doing this.

Plus it's been fact-checked to be the real deal in terms of its donations of rice to the hungry.

Go here. Learn stuff. Feed people.

When I Come Around

You'd think I'd be fresh out of thoughts or life lessons...but Strut Magazine published my "Things I've Learned" essay this month.

Even if my kids don't listen to me, apparently these fine people felt my words have meaning.

I think the printed version even has my little headshot in it. :-)

For my local readers, you can find it at all Panera and Border's stores...

A Shot Through the Heart

So it's like this.

I've been diagnosed with breast cancer.

(You just heard an old, Jewish New Yorker in your mind whispering "Can-suh!", didn't you?)

It is Stage 2(a) invasive, ductal. I caught it pretty early, noticing a lump the week of my 39th birthday. I have a 2.3 cm tumor in my right breast. Not too huge, and no others. The left breast is clean as a whistle, and my lymph nodes appear to be clear, too. All good stuff, relatively speaking.

But there are pesky little satellites around the tumor, so it's really more like a 5 cm area of concern. The plan is to have a mastectomy and chemo, but I'm still not sure in which order.

Several things go through your mind when you hear you have cancer.

First: "I have three little daughters. I need to be stickin' around for awhile."

Second: "I have three little daughters. Now they're at an increased risk. Crap."

Third: "I have three little daughters. They'll freak out if I lose my hair."

There's a pattern here, as you can see. The thoughts of myself only filtered in after those of my kids settled a bit.

You don't sleep. You DO eat, out of nervous energy. Then you feel sick. But you still eat.

As you read through endless booklets and forms and web sites, and visit countless specialists day after day, you have more thoughts.

Like: "I simply do not own enough nice underwear for this many people to see me naked."

And: "I wonder when this underlying, horrific, mind-numbing fear will push up through the veil of shock and autopilot demeanor?"

And also: "Wait. I didn't use my breasts enough yet. Seriously. Hold on a sec."

Big things like survival, chemo-induced menopause and the realization that you might not live to see your grandchildren are staggering.

But those thoughts are fleeting. Most of the time, in most ways, you simply focus on the task at hand. Getting well, as soon as possible. Putting this lousy chapter behind you. Getting back to some semblance of normalcy.

As I've told my friends, I'm certainly going to be OK. It's just an unpleasant road to travel between now and then.

I'll keep you updated.