Random Ramblings…
I went to an all-day meeting a couple of weeks ago. I never look forward to these because in my job I’m always busy, always on the move; the thought of sitting all day is not a happy one. But, there I was. Good part was that Mary was there, and I brought the wedding book to show her. Teresa had a hard-cover book made out of photos from her and Elliott’s wedding, so it was great to share that. After seeing pictures of my son John, Mary gave me her daughter’s business card, just in case they might want to hook up. The lady who started the presentation was a little annoying because she kept referring to her notes in her hand. It seems if you have a prepared (canned) PowerPoint, you should be able to talk from that (if you know your topic well) and not have to refer to notes. Other good thing was Patti was there. I knew between her and Mary I would be able to get through the day. The next lady who presented really annoyed me. She had on black slacks and a black top over which she was wearing a long, sheer dress – it took me awhile to figure out that a dress was what it was. I couldn’t imagine why someone presenting would wear such a long, flowing deal in front of a crowd. The dress was neck to toe and had buttons down the entire middle of it, but none of them were buttoned. The other thing was that down near the bottom a thread had caught on something, and you could easily see the defect it was causing. Anyway, I believe Mary said she wouldn’t be caught dead in such an outfit, but Patti said she would wear something like that, but not if she was as short as that lady. See what I mean about getting through with Mary and Patti? This presenter, too, referred too often to her hand-held notes, just my opinion; but this is my blog. Also, I feel that I can comment on presenters since I do a lot of it myself. I am always conscious of what I am wearing and if anything might be distracting to my audience. During a break, I chatted with Bonnie. She’s reached four years as a survivor. It always makes me feel more sane to talk to someone whom I respect and find out she has some of the same crazy cancer thoughts and fears that I do. There was a third lady with the presenting team. She was along to learn the ropes as earlier noted by the first presenter. During one working session, she circulated around and ended up at our table. I had noticed her earlier and thought that I liked her hair due to the unique style and attractive highlights (see, not all of my opinions are negative). When she sat next to me, I could see grey hair coming out from under her other hair in the back. I asked, “Are you wearing a wig?” She was, of course. No one else was in earshot at the time. We were at one end of the table. I asked, “Did you lose your hair?” This began a conversation that led me to find out we were almost on the same schedule with treatments and had had the same chemo regimen and now taking the same drug. She said that her hair had not grown in well, so she was continuing to wear the wig, which she actually liked anyway. I told her about Nioxin which I’ve been using since my hair first started growing back. I don’t know if it helped my hair or not, but she appreciated it and said she would try anything. The most interesting thing she said was that she had not had many challenges in her life. She said she got cancer and she got through it. She added, “But, I don’t want to do it again.” This reminded me of the story my dentist recently told me about his 70+ years old mother who had just gone through breast cancer. I was a captive audience as he cleaned my teeth. He entertained me the whole time with stories about his mother and grandmother. About his mother though, she announced that having finished treatments, she was through with breast cancer. She wasn’t going to put any pink ribbons on her car or anywhere else and she was never again going to say the words “breast cancer.” Before I left the dentist’s office that day, I told him to say “Hello” to his mother for me. He said he would, but he couldn’t mention the other thing. People are pretty funny, aren’t they? Everyone deals with cancer in their own way. By that time in the meeting, Robert had arrived for lunch and the afternoon session. Then each school worked on its own report. The session was scheduled to end at 3:30, which for me would be a half hour early out. That was about the only thing that made the day palatable…early out. At around 2:30, our team was basically done with the report. Robert decided he and I could go back to school, or actually go to school, since I hadn’t been there all day. As we left through the lobby, we thumbed our noses at Mary and George; no one else could see this immature, but funny, behavior. Wait a minute, I got an early out from the meeting, but now was going back to school where I would have to stay until 4:00. I found out the next day that our team got out even earlier than 3:30. What a wrong turn of events that was…So much for thumbing noses.
Miguel…….Scared the Hell…….Outta Me……..Again……..
About six months ago, I came home one night after working in school all day and teaching a university class at night; and I found a message from Miguel at the Cancer Institute. His message was that I should call to make an appointment. It was way past the time the Institute would have closed, so I had to wait until the next day. I had never heard of a Miguel there before, and the thought that I was supposed to make an appointment for I didn’t know what scared the Hell out of me. I conjured up all kinds of thoughts, trying not to reach the hysterical plateau. I called first thing in the morning. He said I needed to schedule a mammogram. I told him how scary it is for a cancer patient to get a phone message like that. He replied that due to whatever privacy laws (I always get the acronym wrong, so I’m not going to attempt it here), he couldn’t say any more than that when leaving a message. The other day I came home again after a long day, after the Cancer Institute would be closed; and there was a message from Miguel to call and schedule an appointment. I had the slightest memory of going through this with him before, but I got all riled up anyway. Here comes Hell again. First of all, Dr. Manno said I didn’t need a mammogram until February so why would Miguel call me for one now. So, I pondered why he must have called. I had a Herceptin treatment the previous week and they took blood for labs. Since that was late in the day on Wednesday, I figured no one did anything with the results until at least Monday or Friday. One of those days Dr. Manno sets aside for research and writing so he probably didn’t see my results on one of those days. Someone probably pointed out something to him yesterday, causing Miguel to call me. Something probably showed up in my blood work. I don’t know what they check my blood for; I thought it was for white blood count, and whatever else. I decided my blood work probably indicated, well, the only thing that made sense was Leukemia. After all, that’s related to blood. I tried not to get too worked up, thinking I was going to need to sleep that night to face another day at Harmon during the first week of students returning for the new year. I dredged up the former memory of Miguel and calmed down, thinking his call was related to a mammogram. I called him as early as possible the next morning. That’s what it was. I told him what the doctor had said and that I remembered the doctor turning to the computer at that time, supposedly entering that information on my electronic chart. I asked Miguel to please call back and let me know either way what the result of his checking was. He didn’t bother. Since he has to be so careful with what he says in a phone message, couldn’t he have said, “Excuse the last message. You were right.” ?? I guess once you’ve had cancer, the thought of it is never out of your consciousness, not that it really could be, given the aftermath of surgery; wearing a prosthetic every day; intermittent pain and discomfort; and on-going preventative treatments, drugs, and lab work. It’s not all that surprising then that a phone call from the Cancer Institute can send you into a swirl of thoughts about what they want, what might be happening to you, and where the cancer may have decided to attack your body. You can try all you want to keep those thoughts away, but they come upon you regardless. This time, I got off easy…
Teresa and Elliott…
Teresa and Elliott had a wonderful wedding in June. They were married at the Blue Agave Restaurant on the main street of Pleasanton, California. From my perspective, everything went exactly right. Teresa was a beautiful bride, Elliott a handsome groom. The bridesmaids and groomsmen all looked great, especially the MOH [maid of honor], Krista, who looked awesome. My responsibility was to, along with her father, escort Teresa down the front steps of the restaurant and over to where the ceremony would take place. The flower girls were the last to go before us. As we walked on the porch approaching the steps, Teresa said, “I think I’m going to cry.” I said something along the lines of not to do that, just follow the petals. By then though any attempts at stoicism were gone as both her father and I began to cry. As we walked her up to Elliott, he was crying, too. At that point Elliott was to shake her father’s hand and then give me a hug. We stepped back so Teresa could step up with Elliott. They had a special ceremony, performed by a lady who visited with them and came to know them, making the words she said meaningful and personalized. Civil engineers wear silver, pinky rings. Both Teresa and Elliott usually have theirs on. For tradition, I gave something old for Teresa to wear, which was her grandmother’s engagement ring, also a garnet (for January birthday) as Teresa’s engagement ring was. Teresa was wearing her grandmother’s ring on her pinky. At one point, only being about two feet away, I could see Elliott twisting around the pinky ring that Teresa was wearing. He glanced at it and then at her with a questioning look. She said it was her grandmother’s, and that was emotional. As a special song for the reception, Teresa and Elliott selected Ingrid Michaelson’s You Take Me the Way I Am. I was familiar with the song because at one point Elliott posted on his blog a video of Teresa lipsyncing to it. In the lyrics, the singer says that she loves the person because of the way he calls her, “Baby” and the way he says, “Good Morning.” I had asked Teresa if any of the things in the song were true of Elliott, and she said they weren’t. However, during the ceremony, Kim said that Teresa loved the way Elliott said, “Good morning” with a touch. Anyway, I really liked that part. Actually, I liked all the parts. One of the things that saddened me the most last spring when I was diagnosed with cancer was that Teresa might be having her wedding without her mother. So, it was especially sweet for me to simply be alive and experience my daughter’s wedding. The reception was excellent and provided an atmosphere in which many people who did not really know each other could enjoy and celebrate the marriage of Teresa and Elliott. At one point there was a little demonstration of breakdancing on the dance floor. Next, the two gorgeous little flower girls in their white dresses were sitting on the dance floor twirling around. Teresa said something to Kathi along the lines of that she would like to do that, too. Kathi, of course, encouraged her; and the bride joined the flower girls twirling around on their bottoms. One of the flower girls, my granddaughter Ana (age 3) summed up the long, long day with the most profound statement to Kathi…with a wistful sigh, Ana said, “I loved the wedding.” Me, too, Ana.
