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…

]]> http://drdottie.com/2008/09/01/miguel%e2%80%a6%e2%80%a6scared-the-hell%e2%80%a6%e2%80%a6outta-me%e2%80%a6%e2%80%a6again%e2%80%a6%e2%80%a6/feed/ http://drdottie.com/2008/08/23/teresa-and-elliott/ http://drdottie.com/2008/08/23/teresa-and-elliott/#comments Sat, 23 Aug 2008 17:40:12 +0000 dottie http://drdottie.com/?p=80 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.

I’ve been experiencing something. I don’t know what to call it, maybe a depression, but not really. Patti could have told me it was coming. It happened to her daughter. You can’t describe it. You’re angry; you’re sad; you’re scared; I guess you’re grieving. It doesn’t make sense after the high of being called a survivor by your oncologist, but what about cancer does make sense? After proving I could be bigger than life…Superwoman, Wonder Woman, whatever it was I was trying to prove…disfurging surgery, horrible chemo, and 25 daily radiation treatments. Barely missed any work, taught all my university classes, ended a relationship with the only man I’ve ever loved, took little to no vacation, hardly skipped a beat, did not pass go, did not collect $200…Where did it leave me…in a funk. Kind of like an old Sinatra song …I was riding high in April (Fabuloso Survivor preparing for Race for the Cure), shot down in May…However, unlike Sinatra’s words, I did not change that tune, I was not back on top, back on top in June. At least, when nothing was shakin’ come this here July, I didn’t roll myself up in a big ball and die. I wanted to roll myself up though and just drop out. I saw Dr. Manno at the end of June and asked him about how I was feeling. I said, “Just tell me it’s normal, and I’ll be fine.” When I had my meltdown the night before Teresa and Elliott’s wedding, both Kathi and Krista said I should see a counselor. I asked Dr. Manno about that, too. Basically, he said what I’m going through is normal. He mentioned scenarios of other patients. He said if I spiraled down any further to come back, and he could put me on drugs. He said he didn’t think I would want to do that because I’m a teacher, and I depend on a clear head for thinking, reading, and teaching. He’s right; I don’t want to take drugs to feel better. He said I could get hooked up with the counselor at Nevada Cancer Institute, but I didn’t do that either. I’ve, of course, researched “Grief after Breast Cancer” and it did help to know that it really does exist. I do believe I have it, grief that is, well, now I think I can say I had it. I could not write during all of this time because of how I felt. I was afraid of what would come out of my head, my heart, and my fingertips if I wrote about how I felt. Now, I can. I was resentful of how I looked for the wedding…short grey hair with no bangs to cover my forehead…But then I would think that a year ago I didn’t think I’d be around for the wedding, so I should be happy with my ugly hair because at least I have hair. During the last few months, it was impossible not to think back to…last year at this time…yadayadayada. When the fourth of July came, it was the anniversary of having what was left of my hair buzzed off…not happy memories, but, ah, I’m around to think of them, right? So, I just filled my days with work and my evenings with back-to-back summer school classes three nights a week. I spent the weekends on the couch; and now I believe I’ve recovered…maybe. Some magical new something got a hold of me today, and I’m not in a funk. I know it will never be completely gone. I imagine that’s the life of a person who’s experienced cancer…always scared that it will come back, always that little voice asking, “Why me?” Dr. Manno says to just not ask that question; there is no, “Why me?” I didn’t do anything to deserve it; it just happened to me. So, I’m out of the something I was going through. Each time I find myself laying flat on my face, I just pick myself up and get back in the race…Thanks, Frank. And, Thanks be to God.

Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about…Uneventful…three days off, no drama, no problems…doesn’t get any better…

I am feeling a little crazy right now though because I’m listening to a playlist on my ipod that I never tried before. Jay loaded all this music on the ipod. I usually listen to one of two playlists, All Time Favorites or Mello. The one I’m playing now is 80’s Music. I guess I was too busy during the 80’s to listen to popular music, For example, right now there’s a song playing that’s called Love My Way by the Psychedelic Furs. I’m sure I’ve never heard of them before. Earlier, I tried a playlist entitled Johnnie’s Favorites…you do not even want to go there…Let’s see, speaking of Johnnie, he ditched me for dinner on Friday night. So annoying when you call his cell phone and it goes right to voicemail, especially when you said you would call at that time to solidify plans for dinner. Fortunately, I had an invite from Krista to go to Happy Hour. Know any other 28-year-olds who would invite their mother to a happy hour with their co-workers? Actually, I had a good time, and I finally saw what Town Square looks like. I thought it was a mall, but it’s actually similar to the District in Green Valley. I went into one store, H&M; and I know there was nothing in that store that would fit me or at least have enough fabric to cover all the places I like covered by clothing. I haven’t had a very productive weekend, but remember…no drama, no problems makes for restful time off. I watched T.V., including The Chamber by John Grisham, a book I started and never finished. Ever since I got cancer, I’ve had a hard time finishing novels. I doubt there’s any correlation. Maybe, you just can’t stay focused on something for long periods of time, when you have the fact that you have cancer on your mind. However, I never had any problem playing Mario Bros. Pinball on my Gameboy or playing video games in casinos. About the Gameboy… a long time ago I bought a Nintendo DS (pink) and started playing the Big Brain Academy to improve my chances of getting Alzheimer’s later rather than sooner. I quickly tired of trying to master the activities in the Brain Academy and set the DS aside. For Heaven’s sake, I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner because I knew I could use the Gameboy games in the DS; but I finally put the Pinball game in the DS. It’s a whole new world! Everything is brighter, more colorful; and I see details that I never knew were there before. Back to T.V. watching this weekend. I love marathons of Law and Order. I don’t even have a favorite…Criminal Intent, well, Goren is pretty crazy; but then on SVU, Stabler’s pretty crazy, too. They both have their demons…who doesn’t? So, besides yesterday’s T.V. watching, I went to church. For some reason I like the Guardian Angel Cathedral so I try to go to 5:00 Mass. Now, I’m not one of those people who runs out before the priest leaves the church, but I do like to get out before the church is completely empty. Yesterday, I went into the pew and sat by the wall. The last lady to sit in that pew, sat next to the aisle. She not only stayed through every last verse of the last song; but, even then, continued to linger. The church was about emptied out by then, maybe ten to twenty people left; and I was still trapped in the pew. If you’re going to stay until they turn the lights off and blow out the candles, sit next to the wall, Louise! I try to at least get out of the church and the parking lot feeling all Christian and good. Let’s not rub people the wrong way before they’re even out of the building. Today, Susan, Kevin, Jason, Krista, Kathi, and I all met for coffee near Kathi’s new house that she just moved into so we could then go see it. Wow, it’s huge for one person and a huge back yard that I didn’t think was possible to find in Vegas anymore. Kathi has very unique taste and has some wonderful looking pieces. The funny thing is Susan says they once looked at that same model home and thought it was too big a house for all three of them. Everybody’s different. That’s what makes life so grand. O.K. I’m about stoned out…Rolling Stoned that is. I think an entire album of theirs has been playing straight through my writing. Funny thing, a little while ago, I read Teresa’s blog entry for today. It was about random things. Now, I’ve written a bunch of random stuff. It must be the long weekend or something, because I definitely have not been drinking dark beer. I went to look for something to wear to the wedding today. I started with NordstrumRack. I ran into a Harmon teacher there, and I could tell it was not going to be a productive shopping day. Instead, I decided to get my nails done, but the shop was closed. That’s an outright miracle. The husband and wife owners never, I mean, never close. They are open seven days a week, and they keep their two young sons there with them in the back room after school and all weekend. This is a pet peeve of mine and other Harmon teachers who get their nails done there. It doesn’t seem appropriate for the boys to spend so many hours there. I think Priscilla has even informed them that they could register the kids in a Safekey program after school. Good for her, but they’re not taking her advice. I finished the three teacher evals that were pressing on me. I’m off campus tomorrow, and the evals have to be completed and signed on Wednesday. I don’t think I should have to do work at home, but I surely can’t get everything done during my work hours. As Connie said when I was transferring to Harmon, “You’ll never work as hard in your life.” There’s never a dull moment at Harmon, but that’s another story. Oh, thank goodness, we moved on to Sheryl Crow for a moment, and all was right with the world. Now, it’s Talking Heads and Tears for Fears. I think I’ll go watch some uneventful, random Law and Order.  

I haven’t had or maybe haven’t taken the time to sum up the Race for the Cure. It was a great day. The weather was just right, and the one-mile-fun walk was perfect. We all met downtown. Somehow, we missed Kim. I think that’s because she was going to do the 5K run and had to start earlier than the rest of us. Getting through the crowd to the Golden Nugget Starbucks took longer than expected, so we were running late to the meeting place. Oh, we missed Kelly, too but later found out she didn’t make it. And we missed the Gordons and the Rizzutos. We raised over 1,800 dollars and so appreciate all of our team members and donors. There were some ironic moments as people, who didn’t know each other before the race, came together for this wonderful cause. For example, I heard Krista giving directions on the phone to Marissa, a teacher at Harmon; and they had not yet met. Then there were the Paskes and the O’Keefes with “Nana Dottie” signs on (That’s what Olivia has always called me). Nikki, a teacher at Goolsby was nearby and asked if it was the same Dottie she knew. There were great connections and moments to celebrate that day. “A shot in the darkness” is another one of those wonderful phrases that could only come from a six-year old. I do get some of my best material from kindergartners. Lately, J.J.’s family thinks he’s turned into quite a little philosopher, summing up the habits of his uncle, the state of happiness of his grandmother and that of his grandfather, and other wonderful life meanings. Personally, I believe he’s just restating, in his own way, what he hears adults talking about. The shot in the darkness was, however, not a comment related to the meaning of life. For a moment, though, just indulge me…Let’s see…Life is good; Life is like a box of chocolates; Life’s a bitch and then you die; Life’s a game; Life is like a bowl of cherries; Life is the sum of all your choices. I’m going with: Life is a shot in the darkness. In what context did J.J. use this wonderful new slogan I’m adopting? Actually, we had been playing around with a basketball on his outdoor court, so to speak, earlier in the evening. After dinner, when it was getting pretty dark out, he said, “Let’s go out and take a shot in the darkness.” Gotcha!……From that happy note to a sad one…yesterday was the service for Bobbie’s husband, John. He died of brain cancer at the age of 45. I guess we could add to the sayings above that “Life isn’t fair,” but we don’t really know that, do we? I said here a few months back that I couldn’t begin to imagine what Bobbie was going through; and I still can’t. I’m sure they knew for months that John’s situation was terminal; yet, somehow they coped with that while still having hopes for a miracle. The overflow crowd at Palm Mortuary spoke of the vast amount of love that people have for John and for Bobbie. She addressed the crowd and kept it light and even drew laughs which further demonstrated the kind of love and relationship that she shared with her husband. I know from the past year of my life that somehow, no matter what, you dredge up the strength to get through. And I’ve surely come to believe that God has a plan for each and every one of us; and like it or not, the plan is in place and will be carried out. Today, I was watching one of my favorite movies, Random Hearts, and the female character, during her husband’s eulogy said, “We had so many great days, just not enough years.” I surely thought of Bobbie when I heard those words, because for some reason the 22 years was all she was going to get. I know she will treasure them and find great strength from them. Steve provides me with thought-provoking words of wisdom, and one he said recently seems to fit here: people come into our lives in many ways…for a reason, for a season, for life. Although Bobbie believed with all of her heart that John was for life, it turned out that he was for a season; and she must go on without him for the other seasons of her life. Speaking of J.J. being a philosopher, it must be catching…I’m in way too deep today; I think I’ll go take a shot in the darkness. Ciao!

Laura Says: April 21st, 2008 at 5:31 am

All weekend I have been checking your blog. Did she post anything yet? How about now? I’m glad that you have been experimenting with your hair - have fun with it! You’ll know when it is time to ditch the wig! YOU ROCK, MAMACITA! Let the world know it!

Laura,

I love you! It’s hysterical that you keep checking my blog. You see me every day; just ask me anything you want to know. Mostly, I tell you everything anyway. If I haven’t said it lately, it is the most special thing to me that we are once again in the same school. Just knowing you are there makes things better. And I will get Caleb to say, “Nana Dottie.” Thanks for pushing me over with the hair thing. You gave me the incentive to ditch the hats.

Love, Dottie

Teresa Says: April 21st, 2008 at 9:40 am

Mom, I love the post and your links - I am impressed you are a You Tuber - you and Elliott have a lot in common! I love you and I think you can rock that short hair no problem.

Teresa,

I don’t know if I rock with the short hair, but at least I’m liberated and free of hats. You know I have the best blog man imaginable. Any feature I ask for, he sets up; and he talks me through uploading pictures and videos. Not to mention, my new flat screen, wireless mouse, and web cam. I can’t wait to talk to you via computer camera. Thanks for bringing Elliott into my life.

Love, Mom.

Steve Says: April 21st, 2008 at 10:07 am

Geez Dot, I never found all those girls that were cuter than you. How did I miss them? The general concensus at the time was that you were right up there with the best of them. Guys talked about those things you know.

Steve,

Where were you when I was 16 and needed to know all that? I can’t fault you for that. You’ve come through for me all these years later. I do believe your prayers and the prayer groups you’ve added my name to are working.

Thanks for your friendship and your prayers,

Dottie

Jodi G. Says: April 21st, 2008 at 12:07 pm

Dottie -

Great Job going Hatless at school! It looks great!

Jodi,

Thanks! It lifts me up to hear hair compliments. I’m glad we’ve come to know each other.

Dottie

Ann K. Says: April 22nd, 2008 at 9:18 pm

You go for it !! Whatever makes you feel good, if it’s getting too hot for those hats ditch them!!! Have a blast you may even end up liking your new hair in a couple of weeks, who knows!
Love ya.

Ann,

Thanks for always be there for me! I did ditch the hats and none too soon. It was getting way too hot. I can’t express what all those Goolsby books did for the Harmon kids. Patti, our literacy specialist, wanted to cry when one of our most hard-core fifth grade boys could not believe he was getting two books to keep for his own. Since I deal with a lot of discipline, that didn’t bring tears to my eyes, but all of the children were so delighted and amazed that they could keep the books to be their own. Every child selected two books. You and Goolsby rock!

See you soon, Dottie

Melanie Says: April 26th, 2008 at 9:09 pm

Dr. Dottie-
since I didnt call you that in class, I guess I will here! You are so fantastic I hope you know that! Amazing, that is the word I would use to describe you with no hat! See you soon!!

Your Favorite College student
Melanie

Melanie,

I know I don’t have to tell you how special you are to me. You met me when I started down the chemo road and just wanted to hold on to my hair until last summer’s term ended. I did make it through that with you and the rest of The Best Class Ever. Now you’ve made it through two more courses with me, and I love the way you gobble everything up and try it the next day in your classroom. Anyway, it was great seeing you every week and knowing you were cheering for me. You saw the whole cycle…red and blond highlighted hair, wig, hats, and new white hair.

Love, Dr. Dottie

Krista Says: May 7th, 2008 at 9:40 pm

Mom, you are so cute with your new hair! And thank you for that blog … now I know where I got my hair obsession from. I love you!

Krista,

I love you for calling me cute with my new hair. I think that’s quite a stretch! Unfortunately the hair obsession is probably not the only one you got from me.

I love you, Mom.

I left the house without a hat yesterday. People, not just women, can be obsessed with their hair. I can remember being obsessed with my hair. Whatever the style was when I was young, I could never seem to get it right, at least, not as right as all those so-much-cuter-than-me girls. I can remember when I went out on dates, and that requires a very long memory, maybe about 48 years ago; if the date (Joe) left the car for a minute (I don’t know, to get hamburgers or something), I would quickly check the rear view mirror and put any stray hairs back in place. The rear view mirror? Yep. Back in those days, the two front seats were not separated by a console; and seatbelts weren’t around, so the passenger might possibly be sitting in the middle of the front seat, you know, closer to the driver. To check your hair or make-up or whatever, you would use the rear view mirror (there were no mirrors underneath the visors). Yikes, what a history lesson here. Well, surely if you weren’t a teenager some 40 years ago, you’ve at least seen a movie ala Grease http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJcHTblkljM or American Graffiti http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h32Kdrh0Z48, or Dirty Dancing http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VSuCtebBT0 or reruns of Happy Days www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLt7clQbBzo. If not, you have no idea what you’re missing. Even way back then, I worried about my hair. I’ve permed my hair, colored my hair, and tried many different styles. Before I lost my hair to chemo, it was quite stylish for a person in my age bracket. I had three different colors: a base color and blonde and red highlights. I always kept some sort-of bangs to help cover my high forehead, but the rest of the hair on top was spiky and so was the back. I had my hair done every 6-8 weeks. Since last July, I may have saved money on shampoo, conditioner, color, mousse, gel, and styling. However, that was all offset by wigs, wig shampoo, wig conditioner, wig molding putty, scarves (never worn), and a vast array of hats. I have a hat to match pretty much any color outfit. I have a silver baseball cap, a gold baseball cap. Actually, most of my hats have some type of glitter or shiny something on them. I figured if I had to wear hats, they might as well make a statement. I could never get the scarf thing down. I didn’t really try very hard. Since I can’t put together something that comes out of a cereal box, I didn’t think swirls and ties and knots would work for me. Am I ready to go hatless? Yesterday, I only went to Wal-Mart. That was easy. Last week after the bachelorette festivities, sitting at home with no hat on, Teresa and Susan both said I don’t need to wear hats anymore. I asked if they had agreed to gang up on me, and they denied it. They told me to just go without the hat and cop an attitude, along the lines of I have short hair, and I can get away with it! O.K., Laura’s probably putting me over. On Friday, she gave me a gift bag with the smallest hairclips ever invented and a jar of Bed Head Manipulator. That’s pretty amazing, since that blue stuff is exactly what I used on my previously spiky hair. She couldn’t have known that. She also gave me a card that said, “Go for it!” So, my damn hair is white, short, longer and thicker in the back, and not enough on the top. I am sick of hats already, and they’re starting to get hot. I experimented yesterday, and I’ll play around with it some more today. Tomorrow morning I’ll decide if I can ditch the hats, cop an attitude, and go to school.

I took a day off from work; Teresa did, too. She arrived at 9:00 a.m. First things first…Starbucks. Then we went to my place just for a little bit. I wanted her to hear the children’s book I’ve written about J.J., me, and cancer. It’s meant to be a picture book, but I have no artistic talent to provide the illustrations. Teresa said she knows an illustrator whom we could look up online. I also wanted to give her a copy of Gingerbread Gems of Willimantic, Connecticut. My friend, Steve, sent me a copy. Willimantic is the one-horse town that I was born in. Since 1968 when I moved to Las Vegas, I’ve only been back there three times, with the last time being in 1984. I really have never had any desire to remember much of anything about Willimantic or to revisit my life there. Steve has revived old memories of that town, while contacting me about an upcoming class reunion. It seems that Willimantic is becoming quite the little destination, if you have any interest in things Victorian. The book has a lot to do with architecture and, therefore, the reason for giving Teresa a copy because of the connection to civil engineering. I also had a copy of an article about the huge overpass that is being built over Hoover Dam. I don’t really know if Teresa appreciates these things or not, but I usually try to save for her anything about bridges, special buildings, etc. Teresa had a great idea to go to the Venetian and take a ride on a gondola. We did, and it was fun. We took the inside ride through the shopping concourses. I’d like to go back again and take the outside ride. I commented to Teresa that now I understood why people had to audition for this job…they sing as they row the gondola. Teresa pointed out to me that she saw motors underneath that were actually propelling the gondolas. We did give credit to the gondolier for steering, however. The gondolier told us there was a strolling entertainment show coming up shortly in the courtyard. We decided to go eat at Wolfgang’s with a table right at the edge to see the entertainers. We each commented that at first we had actually thought the one guy was a real statue. As it turns out, he just pretends to be one. We wondered if he gets all the money that people leave on the steps for him. There was a guy on stilts, and that reminded me of a teacher at Harmon who does things like juggle while riding a unicycle, and from what I’ve heard, also does stilts, hopefully, at our upcoming carnival. While at the Venetian, Teresa checked her BlackBerry for movies. I recommended “21” and it was playing shortly at Green Valley Ranch so that’s where we headed. “21” is based on the true story of some MIT students who years ago came and took the strip by storm and a pile of money with a card cheating ring. At least for Las Vegans, I think the movie is great. After the movie, we came home and mostly just chatted. We did look up the illustrator she knows, and I’m still thinking about it. Krista came by to pick Teresa up for dinner, and I insisted she come in and give us her Introduction to Krista speech that she gave at Toastmasters a couple of weeks ago. Since Teresa used to be in Toastmasters, she knew exactly how to introduce her. We heard about the three roles Krista plays in life: sister, team player (at work), and friend (to Zoe, her Yorkshire Terrier). The ladies left to go to dinner, and I left to go to my 7:00 class. O.K., there was some Krista in there; but, mostly, it was A Teresa Day.

 It must be difficult to be the significant other of a cancer patient. The person with cancer must be consumed with herself: the discovery, the tests, the diagnosis, the surgeries, the treatments, the side effects. She probably puts on a great act around others in the workplace, in the family, wherever. Does she drop all of that as she inserts the key into the lock of her front door? Are all bets off? Does the person inside bear the brunt of the experience she’s going through? I don’t know; I don’t think so. I read all the chapters in all the cancer books that pertained to me…what expectations I should have following each of the experiences I endured, what side effects might be next, reactions and long-term effects of the drugs I’ve taken and those I continue to take. I didn’t read about how to be a significant other of a cancer patient. There were probably chapters on it; but that wasn’t my role, so I didn’t read them. Did the significant other read them? No. Did he try his best? Maybe. Was it enough? No. Is the past year of cancer treatment and survival the reason he’s gone? No. It’s so much more than that, but it’s not for recording here. You know that saying about “water under the bridge”? Well, it’s supposed to refer to something that’s done, over with, not worth mentioning or worrying about any longer. Once in my life I made a road trip to Denver. A fifth grade teacher, who had done that many times, commented that I’d be crossing the Continental Divide. Not wishing to expose my ignorance, I agreed and then researched what that was. It turns out that on this trip, the Continental Divide would be where the Colorado River changes the direction of its flow. On the west side of the Divide, the river flows toward the Pacific Ocean, while on the east side, it flows toward the Atlantic Ocean. What’s the connection here? The water under my bridge doesn’t have a straight outlet to either one of those; it just keeps circulating around and coming back to me. The water under the bridge, that fluid thing that needs to be put in the past, trivialized, and forgotten, just keeps on comin’ back. Well, I said that story wasn’t for here; and it’s not. If you are the cancer patient, you are consumed with yourself. You’d better be. You’re experiencing new horrors and scares at every turn. Your mortality is staring you in the face. You weren’t prepared for this, you don’t want it, and you pray it’s not a death sentence. You care about its impact on others, but there isn’t much you can do to change that. It’s your challenge. You get through the best you can; you just want your real life back, not the life you’re living with cancer. If you’re the significant other, just being there isn’t enough. Do your research. What’s your role? Can you know what the cancer patient’s going through? No. You can see it, you can hear it, you can even feel bad about it; but you don’t know. I’m not going to go through a litany of missed opportunities from my experience; I don’t want to conger them up or dwell on them, much less tell about them. I know this, and I can tell significant others this. Don’t minimize the procedures, the treatments, or the side effects. Do minimize the breast loss, the hair loss, and the fatigue. You need to say out loud the word love, even if that’s a word you’ve used sparingly in your life. Say it. Shout it. Whisper it. Mean it. You need to say: I love you. You need to say it loud, and say it clear. You need your acts to reflect it loudly and clearly. Say: I need you to get better. Say: There’s more to come for us. Say: There’s more for us to do. Say: It doesn’t matter that you’re missing a breast. Say: It doesn’t matter that you’re bald. Say: It doesn’t matter if you sleep day and night for two or three days after a treatment. Research your role. Read about what you can do. Join a support group or a counseling group. Get help. Is cancer the reason he’s gone? No. Was it the patient’s inability to deal with the significant other? No. Was it the significant other’s inability to deal with the cancer patient? No. It’s the water under the bridge.