So the second part of our family vacation was in Vermont. We drove from Quebec City to Burlington, Vermont. We traded the novelty of visiting a French speaking, somewhat foreign city (Quebec City) for the comfort and familiarity of the US.
The 4-hour drive from Quebec City to Vermont was very pretty. The scenery was green with rolling hills, red barns and iconic grain silos. The sky looked like the clouds from the opening scenes of the Simpson’s show. Because I grew up in a rural community, I was familiar with many of the farm equipment brand names I saw along the way: Butler grain silos, Massey Ferguson combines, John Deere tractors, etc. The people living in this part of Canada looked like they could’ve walked off the plains of Eastern Colorado, with one major exception: everyone spoke French. I enjoyed feeling like I was traveling through a French speaking rural America.
Vermont was very special. I knew I was back in the Northeast when I saw a Shaw’s grocery store. It seemed so welcoming. While in Burlington, we went on walks, visited several museums, rented bikes, ate lots of great cheese and of course took the required tour of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream factory in Waterbury.
Here we all are at the Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Factory.
David,Emma and I at the Montmorency Waterfall outside of Quebec City. It is true what they say about hair growth after chemo: it will often grows back in a different color or texture. My hair is now very, very curly but still dark brown. David is clearly proud to be a Texas Longhorn with his cap and color coordinated burnt orange t-shirt.
Greetings from Quebec City in Canada. David, Emma and I are vacationing here with David’s family - his brother and his brother's family plus Grandma and Grandpa Zuckerman. We have joined a bunch of other tourists who are here to celebrate Quebec City’s 400th birthday. I think all the locals moved out to make room for all the tourists. You can buy all the t-shirts and coffee mugs you want but don’t even think about buying a head of lettuce or a mop. Not that I need to buy lettuce or a mop, but I wonder where one would buy such things if one lived in this part of Quebec City.
I can see why Quebec City is a popular destination point. You get to feel like you are in Europe without leaving North America. Like in many European cities, a fortified wall encloses old Quebec City. Some of the streets are paved with cobblestones and the buildings look very European. There are other European (or perhaps French) cues like pork pate at breakfast, baguettes at dinner, and cheese for dessert.
Then there is the language. I studied French in college for three semesters plus I lived in France for 1 semester. That was a long time ago and my French is now a little slow and cranky. I try speaking French to the hotel staff, waiters, etc. but they all do “Le Switch” on me and we are into English. I did manage to have a nice brief conversation in French with a taxi cab driver. He told me he moved here 5 years ago from Paris. He likes Quebec better than France. He said it was easier to work and live here than Paris.
Just about everyone is bilingual, so communicating in English is not a problem. I actually wish it were more of a problem. I wish I had more opportunities to flounder around in French.
Emma is having a great time playing with her cousins. I always enjoy being with family.
We drive to Vermont today to enjoy Part Deux of our vacation back in the States.
I wish I could claim this phrase, "Long Days, Short Years." It seems to capture my life, especially as a mother. My days seem so long and full, yet the years are a blur. Emma finished kindergarten about 2 weeks ago. It was a sad time for me. Sad because I have always hated endings and goodbyes. Sad because my daughter is growing up. Sad because I can only experience the last day of Emma's kindergarten just once, then it is gone, like the entire year.
On the last day of school, David and I both took Emma to school, just like we did on the first day of kinder. I had the video and the camera. When I saw other moms crying, I decided it was OK for me to tear up a bit.
I needed to get over my melancholy mood. There was only one thing to do: breakfast at Kerbey Lane Cafe. Country music was playing on the Kerbey Lane sound system that morning. I was grateful that the restaurant not only had the food, but also the music to fit my mood. There's nothing like the healing power of coffee, eggs, pancakes, hash browns and Hank Williams Jr. When "Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound" started to play, David was amazed that I knew the words to sing along.
Big milestones, like the last day of the school year, remind me that Emma is growing up. But I am aware of the little daily things that mark the passage of time, too. Like the fact that Emma has moved from taking baths to a shower ("Uses less water and takes less time," she says). She is now tall enough to get her own morning milk and cereal. She doesn't dress up as much as Snow White. Yet, today she saw a rainbow in the water from the sprinkler and asked if I could see a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Today she also made fairy dust out of chalk and taped a bag full of dust to her tummy, ("Just in case I want to fly"). Emma still loves to climb on to my lap after dinner and we still cuddle a lot.
In my mind, the end of Emma's school year also marks the end of my bout with cancer. I decided that I would wear my wig until the end of the school year, then I would take it off. So, I am now out and about without a wig! I have very, very short hair. My hair used to look like Obama's hair. Now my hair is a just a little bit longer than his. My hair is coming in very thick and curly. No grey hair. This is all good.
At the end of the year, Emma came home with a backpack full of papers, worksheets, notebooks and art projects. She completed this sheet on President's Day (the day of my last chemo treatment). She wrote this using invented spelling which is how kinder students learn to write these days. The assignment was to complete the statement, "If I were President..." Emma wrote, "I would help people. I would help people when they are sick."
This was the out-of-town guest list: ---Chris from New York City ---Margaret and 4 year old Ella from Kingsport, Tennessee ---Eileen and 4 year old Cordelia from Summit, New Jersey ---Trina and 4 year old Saumya from Boise, Idaho ---Genice and 4 year old Jiana from Oakland, California
At the end of April, five fabulous women from my grad school days at the University of Texas made a visit to Austin for a "Grad School Reunion, Happy Gigi Remission, Excuse to eat BBQ & Mexican Food" weekend. Not only did I get to see my buddies again, but I got to meet their daughters as my friends traveled to Austin with their 4 year old girls! It was such a treat.
Not all of the women and children stayed with me. I just hosted Chris, Genice and Genice's daughter. The other out-of-town guests stayed with other local grad school gals who also joined us for some of the weekend activities.
Our weekend was organized with the same managerial tools that we all use in our professional lives. It took 1 conference call and at least 40 email exchanges to nail down the weekend and plan our various weekend activities. I think Margaret even wrote a follow up conference call report!
Over the 4 day weekend, we ate $120 of BBQ from County Line, drank one full refrigerator shelf of Shiner Bock beer, enjoyed Amy's Ice Cream and ate at Bill Clinton's favorite Mexican food restaurant in Austin---Guero's on South Congress. In addition, Genice hosted her daughter's birthday party at my house. Genice invited some faculty and staff from University of Texas and Texas State University to the party. It was the 90's all over again.
The weekend was not all about me, but it was about acknowledging the importance of friendships and life. We agreed to make our Grad School Reunion a somewhat regular event. We didn't want to wait until one of us got sick to see each other again.
That weekend, I was reminded how smart, articulate, and funny each of my friends remain. No wonder they are such successful professional women (and great moms, too). That weekend was like a Sex and the City reunion...without the sex, and without the city but with all the intensity of girlfriend bonding.
Here is a picture of some of my most beloved friends from UT and Texas State--all together in my dining room! BACKROW: Mary Ann, Virginia, Jef, Debbie, Wei-Na, Trina & Saumya, Michelle FRONTROW: Eileen & Cordelia, Genice & Jiana, Me and Emma, Margaret & Ella, Chris
This week I went back to (paid) work. I moderated a series of focus groups, completed my report and prepared a bid for the possibility of another round of qualitative research for another client. It feels great to be working again. The only physical reminder of my recent illness is the silly wig that I still wear because my real hair is still too short. Everyone tells me that that very short hair is "in." I just think I look a bit angry and militant with hair that is 1 centimeter long. I don't like the extreme hair look. I like wearing my hair messy and unstyled with clip that looks like something I wore in 5th grade to hold my hair away from my face. I think I am 6 weeks away from going wigless and 6 months away from getting to wear my a barrette again.
I must say, I kind of enjoyed having the wig on as I moderated the groups and interacted with the client. It was like my my personal, devilish little secret. "He he he. No one knows this hair is fake."
On another note, I am so sad to hear that one of my neighbors was just diagnosed with cancer. So within the past two years, two other people living within three houses of me have been diagnosed with cancer. I can't help but wonder if there is something in the environment that is causing all of this illness. Is it just a coincidence? Just random bad luck for all of us? How many more people must get sick before we really start to worry?
All I known is that I am ready to return the favor of care and compassion that my good neighbor gave me when I was diagnosed. I am ready to help others through their chemo ordeal. My wonderful family and dear friends are the ones that helped me through my ordeal. Thank you!
Hello again, dear blog readers (if you are still there). I have been away from my blog but deeply wrapped up with life. Yes life! I am off the couch and experiencing the wonderful work-a-day issues of living, now with a different attitude.
So, I have had a few hits recently. Several weeks ago I woke up in the night with pain and numbness in my right arm and hand. The pain would just not go away. Because of my tiny laptop and cramped desk/chair set up, I figured my computer was the problem. I stayed away from my laptop for awhile, but the ache in my right hand and arm would just not go away. So, I decided to change my computer set up...new chair, new desk, new ergonomic keyboard, new keyboard tray, new monitor. The whole bit. It helped, but I was still suffering. I went to my doc. After poking around my arm and hands, he concluded "tennis elbow." I will be starting physical therapy next week. As I type this sentence, I still feel pain in my right arm.
Wait there's more....my hard drive crashed. This is the second crash in two years. After my last crash, I had a Mac Genius at the Genius Bar (which means the tech support guy at the mall Apple store) set up an elaborate two tier backup system--one backup to an external hard drive, the other to some mystical server in the Ethernet. Turns out that Mac Genius guy with the big holes in his ear lobes didn't set my backup software to copy my entire system. So, the important stuff was not saved. I did do an old fashioned backup on some thumb drives several months ago, so all is not lost. I am sending my hard drive to a data recovery service. They know me at the data recovery service. I attempted data recovery last time with no luck. I have very low expectations now.
I am amazingly upbeat. I could easily slip into a very familiar "poor me" attitude. I mean one day last week, I got the news that I had "tennis elbow" and that my hard drive crashed as I stood there with a wig on my head because I lost my hair to chemo. Instead, I am happy that I am so alive and active now that that I am getting hit with a healthy dose of life sh*t.
These past couple of weeks, I have been searching for how I have changed since my cancer diagnosis. Many people say they discover what is important in life. But I already knew what was important in life even before the diagnosis: my dear family and all of my wonderful friends (yes, all you guys out there.) In fact, the importance of family and friends was confirmed when I got sick. It was the love and attention that I got from everyone that helped me get through my recent ordeal.
So, I have been thinking how I have changed. Then I discovered it as I was walking into the mall to salvage my data..... Lost my data? Spent way too much money on a new computer set up? Hurting from tennis elbow? Gas prices now inching to $4 a gallon? Get over it!
For the rest of my life, nothing will ever be as bad as when I was diagnosed with cancer. Nothing. What a wonderful perspective. Cancer gives every survivor a gift. Cancer gave me the gift of perspective. I feel fairly invincible now.
In addition, I have returned to my professional life with renewed energy and creative vigor. While I have had to write for my work, it took this blog for me to discover joy in writing.
So, invincibility coupled with lots of creative juice...not bad.
Dr. Fain, my oncologist here in Austin called me with news of my CT scan. All is clear. I remain in remission! I am very thankful for the good news. I also appreciate the personal phone call from my doctor. These things are so important. I will have a PET scan in about 3 months.
David's parents came for Passover. We had a very, very nice family visit. The last time they were here, I had just been diagnosed with lymphoma. We were trying to decide where I should begin treatment. It was a terrible, terrible time. We were in that space right after diagnosis and before treatment. I was in pain. I was short of breath. I was experiencing night sweats. Now I am back to normal-better than ever. I am so blessed to have this behind me.
This picture was taken last October during Sara and Paul's last visit. Arranging a family picture was on the top of my "to do" list as soon as I was diagnosed. During this photo session, David kept looking at me and saying, "You look good!" I responded with, "The damn irony of it all. I have never been sicker in my life."
I have my first post-chemo CT scan today. My PET scan in January showed I was in remission. I will be having CT scans every 3 months for the next year to make sure a relapse is caught early.
So this morning I will drink 450 ml of barium sulfate suspension liquid in two separate doses – one 2 hours, then 1 hour before the scan. The barium bottle euphemistically says “Creamy Vanilla Smoothie.” The other choices were chocolate and strawberry. I actually like the label- an image of an old fashioned shake next to an outline of the digestive system. I was told that the barium tastes better cold and from a straw. As I remember, it isn’t all that bad-just a little odd tasting.
I have been feeling great, but I am a little worried what the CT scan might reveal. I am optimistic, but fear can immobilize if you let it.
I have been away from my blog for some time. I have been feeling “blog guilt.” This is a new word I made up to describe the feeling bloggers experience when they have not posted for a while. This is a common feeling. I am now back at the keyboard.
I have not posted an entry because I have been feeling so good. I have been very busy with well, my life. I have returned to normal energy. I am tired at night, but who isn’t after a long day? I am so happy to feel normal again!
There are only a few physical things which remind me that I just went through chemo treatment: I still wear a wig because my hair is just starting to grow out. By the summer I hope I to get rid of this ridiculous hairpiece. Also, up until yesterday, I had a port in my chest.
Yesterday was a big day on several fronts… Yes, my port was surgically removed yesterday! I am very happy about this. Since I will not have more chemo if I relapse, my oncologist recommended that the port come out. This is good as I had a small clot at the end of the port.
Also, Emma had her first sleepover with one of her little friends. This was a big deal. Emma has been asking for a while. Apparently, sleepovers are all the rage in kindergarten now.
Eric, my buddy from grad school, flew into town from Champaign, Illinois to walk a “survivor lap” with me in an American Cancer Society Relay for Life. Eric is also a cancer survivor. He had melanoma at the age of 27.He has been cancer free for 13 years. Eric used to organize the Relay for Life in Champaign, so he knew exactly what to do. What a treat to see Eric again. Eric is now a dad and a successful businessman. He is still the same, so that means is he now a funny and cool dad/ businessman.
Since I stopped taking my port medication and to celebrate seeing Eric again, I had my first margarita in 6 months. Not that I am big drinker. I just like the occasional Corona or margarita with my chips and salsa. I enjoyed that first margarita at the Oasis. We had a stunning view of the Lake. The weather was just perfect. It was a very special day.
Here are some picture of Eric and me from the event last night. As we walked our “survivor lap" around the track, people clapped and cheered for us. I felt strong and fortunate to be walking with all the other survivors. David joined us for the "caregiver lap." All three of us walked one more lap for good measure and called it a night.
I woke up this morning to an email from a friend notifying me that Hal Riney passed away. He died of cancer on Monday, March 24. He was 75. I was never formally introduced to Hal. He didn’t know who I was. But at one point in my life, my business cards had his advertising agency’s name on it. Right after grad school, I worked at Publicis & Hal Riney Advertising in San Francisco. I was an account planner, the person who uses research to help craft the advertising strategy. The advertising world just lost a legend.
Who was Hal Riney? First there was Howard Gossage, but then there was Hal Riney. Hal is credited with establishing San Francisco as a hotbed for great, creative advertising. He started out in the mailroom of BBDO San Francisco. Nine years later he was their creative director. In 1976, he moved to Ogilvy & Mather. He later opened his own shop and called it Hal Riney & Partners. He never forgot his roots. A huge picture of David Ogilvy hung next to his office. According to newspaper reports, former Hal Riney employees started no less than 28 advertising agencies. He mentored a generation of creative advertising talent.
Before Hal started catching national attention with his ads, most of the great creative advertising came out of New York or Chicago. Hal gave a Western flavor to advertising. Hal grew up in a small town in Washington state. He sprinkled images from his childhood into his ads: farm houses, pickup trucks, children holding American flags at 4th of July parades, wheat fields, men in overalls, and early morning sun rises. Many of his ads were wrapped in this ‘feel good Americana.’
Here is Hal's famous "It's Morning Again in America" spot for Ronald Reagan's 1984 presidential campaign. Hal is doing the voice-over in this ad.
Hal also wrote the Bartles and Jaymes Gallo wine cooler ads. Remember these two old men sitting on a porch?
How about those great Saturn ads about “A different kind of company. A different kind of car.”
Here is the best classic Saturn commercial available YouTube. Ya, ya, it is a Canadian Saturn ad, but with the same heartland values.
What was Hal like? By the time I worked at the agency (1999-2000), Hall was semi-retired. He worked on a few accounts, but he wasn’t very visible. Most of what I know about him comes from other employees and what I have read. (I have a huge file of newspaper articles about Hal and his agency that I started collecting even before I worked at Riney.)
So what did other say of him? He was old and crotchety. Hal and I once almost bumped into each other when I accidentally took the service stairs out of the building. I found out later that those service stairs were off limits to employees. He liked to come and go without seeing people. He actually didn’t like to be bothered with his employees. He once made a joke at a holiday party that he used the annual party to see (not know) the people that worked for him.
He was a copywriter, an old school copywriter. I have read many a story about Hal writing copy at his typewriter with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a little bourbon at his side to keep the creative juices flowing. It is hard to imagine this happening in an ad agency now. Wait. Back up. I guess it depends on the agency.
To Hal, it was all about the creative work---not client relations, not the media plan, not the research. This emphasis was on the creative aspect of advertising which explains why the creative department ran the agency. I remember we had to struggle to keep account planning (research) active in each account. Research wasn’t really appreciated. There was even rumor that he didn’t even know what account planning was. (Account planning started in the UK. The concept started making its way to US agencies about 15 years ago.) I think he did know, but chose not to remember because to him, good ads were based on gut and intuition, not research.
He also had a reputation of hating technology. For example, he did not allow agency employees to have voice mail! If we were not at our desks, two older ladies (who had been with Hal Riney for many, many years) answered our phones and gave us messages on cute little pink notes. Hal did this because he did not want clients and agency executives interacting via recorded messages. He wanted his people to talk directly with clients.
The opportunity to talk directly with agency people was a blessing to me when I was looking for a job. After sending my resume, I left countless voice messages at all of the ad agencies in San Francisco. Of course, nobody returned my call. However, at Hal Riney, the director of account planning actually answered his phone and I got to talk to him personally! This is how I got my first interview, which eventually led to a job.
Hal’s advertising style resonates with me. I grew up in Hal’s America. It was “Morning in America’ everyday in my little home town on the eastern plains of Colorado. His ads captured the good side of grown up in small town USA: the community, the work ethic, the wholesomeness. I know all about this and the emotional power of these images.
I am saddened by his passing and that it was cancer that took his life. Hal wouldn’t like this cliché, but I think he is still cranking out great copy on his Underwood typewriter in his soft-focused, romantic version of America.
A little over a week ago, David, Emma and I went to MD Anderson Cancer Research Center in Houston for a second opinion regarding my case. I am in remission now and we wanted a second opinion on how to remain in remission. My oncologist here in Austin encouraged us to go.
I could tell we were dealing with something much, much bigger than my clinic here in Austin by simply the amount of paperwork involved. In preparation for our visit, I filed out numerous medical history forms - both online and hardcopy. I had all of my medical records sent to MD Anderson from all of my Austin and Baylor doctors. I collected all of my CT and PET scans and reports on a disk. I interacted with several MDA new patient personnel via phone and email for a week before my visit. I felt like I was applying to grad school all over again. We had high expectations.
These high expectations were shot down after only a few minutes with our doctor. (Folks in the South often soften criticism of others with ‘bless his/her heart,’ so here we go…) Bless his heart, this doctor was one of the most arrogant, patronizing people David and I have ever met. We were asking questions about the potential relapse of a life threatening disease here and we get attitude?
David and I have been in and around academic circles, so we are familiar with attitude that comes with tenure, publishing, grants, fellowships and so on. We can deal with attitude if we get information. This was the most galling and frustrating point. This doctor could not answer any specific questions regarding my case because he would only comment on tests, scans, or treatment done at MD Anderson. Since this was my first visit, all the information we received was very general in nature. It was clear he had not read my file.
Here are some Q & A examples to give you a flavor of our meeting….
Q & A EXAMPLE 1 David: Do you recommend that Gigi participate in a clinical trial to prevent relapse?
Doctor: Of course, I recommend all my patients participate in trials to advance science.
David: Yes, but will it benefit Gigi specifically?
Doctor: I have no idea. That's why it's a c-l-i-n-i-c-a-l t-r-i-a-l (spoken very slowly with every syllable carefully enunciated).
Q & A EXAMPLE 2 Gigi: Am I eligible to participate in this clinical trial given my situation?
Doc: I have no idea. What is your situation?
Gigi: Well, let’s see. I was diagnosed with large cell, intermediate grade, B cell, stage 3-B non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.
Doctor: You must also be considered high risk according to the International Prognostic Index which is based on 5 factors.
Gigi: So, am considered high risk?
Doctor: I have no idea.
Q & A EXAMPLE 3 Doctor: Do you have any other questions?
David: Well, are there any other questions we should be asking?
Doctor: Looks like the high in Houston will be about 80 degrees today. (Doc then stands up and walks out the door.)
I am so glad David was in the room with me. I would have felt very, very bad had I been alone. With David with me, the whole interaction just became comical. As soon as the doc left the room, I put my hands up to my face and shook my head a la Jon Stewart from the Daily Show. Then David and I just laughed. Thank goodness for laughter.
The next day, I called the patient advocate to express my concern. This woman was great. She listened. She sympathized. She apologized. She said this doctor’s style can be abrasive, but that she has seen him go beyond the call of duty for his patients.
There were some good things that came out of this meeting. I am now in the MD Anderson system. So if I do relapse and need to return, I am already set up as a patient. Moreover, perhaps there was a reason this well published, nationally recognized lymphoma specialist seemed annoyed with us taking his time: I am in remission! He sees patients that are in active treatment fighting for their lives. I am not very interesting to him because there is not much he can do for me now. And what a blessing that my case no longer causes doctors to jump into action. Yes, I am in remission. My life is no longer in jeopardy. The doctor was probably like, “This is ridiculous. You are in remission. Step aside, lady. I need to go save some lives now.”
My hair is starting to grow back. I currently have tiny, tiny peach fuzz all over my head. At some point, when I am brave enough, I plan to go without my wig. Hopefully, my buzz cut will make me look hip, like an athlete or an activist or a musician, rather than a cancer survivor. I look forward to getting rid of the wig. It is getting hot in Austin. Also, the short fuzzy hair under my wig makes my head itch even more.
Emma loves my soft, short fuzz. She likes to pat, kiss and caress my head. She calls me “Hairy” now. She says I look adorable.
Here is a picture of Emma’s bald parents. Some cancer bloggers post pics of themselves showing their baldheads. I am not that brave, just kind of brave. I can only show the top of my head, which actually matches nicely with the top of David’s head. This picture was taken about a month ago. Since this picture was taken, the long wispy strands of hair have fallen out and new hair has started to grow back.
Here is how the top of my head looks now. This is my Tibetan monk look and pose.
The title to my blog says ‘Stories of cancer and beyond.’ However, given the nature of my last three posts, it might appear that I have moved beyond cancer and into a political world. Actually, cancer is in my life more than ever and it is one of the reasons I am so interested in this election. As the saying goes, ‘the personal has become political.’
Basically, I am passionate about the need to change our health care system. I am fortunate in that I have great insurance through David’s work. Even with health insurance, we have spent $2,026 on my care. This is nothing compared to the full cost of my care. According to the insurance receipts, the full cost of my treatment to date is $161,419. I look at this figure and my heart skips a beat. I am ever so thankful that we have insurance. Not everyone is so lucky. Nearly 45 million Americans lack health insurance and about 16 million more are underinsured.
Now think about the 1.4 million people that were diagnosed with cancer last year that are among the noninsured or underinsured. When I was first told that I had cancer after my biopsy at Baylor in Dallas, I was numb to my own situation. Instead, I was sad for all the other people that had cancer that didn’t have health insurance. Perhaps focusing on the plight of others was a coping mechanism on my part. In time, I slowly accepted my diagnosis, but I remember the first pangs of sadness were not about me.
Beyond financial devastation, the lack of adequate insurance can mean the difference between life and death. According to a new study by the American Cancer Society, “uninsured patients are far more likely to be diagnosed with advanced stage cancer than those with private insurance.” It makes sense. Those who lack insurance or who are underinsured don’t get the necessary cancer screenings or ignore symptoms until it is too late. There is a direct link between health insurance and cancer survival rates.
As for me, I will never be able to get health insurance on my own because I have a big ugly “C” stamped all over my file. I am now a member of the high-risk pool with a pre-existing condition. From a health care perspective, it seems counter intuitive that those that need health care the most are the ones denied coverage.
I have been sad recently…because I am tired of being tired, because my body aches and I walk like an old woman now, because I am worried that this cancer will come back (there is a 50-60% relapse rate), because I lost my thick eyelashes and dark eyebrows, because so many people will have to face cancer without adequate insurance. Like my Dad used to say, “this too will pass.” My personal aches and pains will go away and my hair will grow back, but I will continue to worry about our national health care system.
I am back. I have been away from my blog for some time for several reasons: I have been very tired (still). Almost three weeks since my last chemo, I am still physically weak. I have been napping a lot. In addition, even though I have been tired, I have pushed myself to attend several political rallies. Texas felt like the center of the world before the Texas primary on March 4. Both Clintons and Obama made appearances in Austin. To me, this election feels historic and I wanted to experience the events. Needless to say, all this political activity has wiped me out, yet provided plenty of material for my blog and now my latest Internet activity, YouTube videos.
The night before the Texas primary, I attended yet another rally. This time I went to see Hillary Clinton.
I arrived at the Burger Center for Hillary’s “Solutions for America” rally 30 minutes early in hopes of getting a good seat. It was cold and windy. I immediately made friends with all the other people standing in line around me. We were all suffering out there, but it was fun to kvetch with everyone.
I made special friends with an older African-American couple standing in line ahead of me. They have been Clinton supporters since 1992 when Bill first ran for President. The gentleman (who was a judge and big Clinton donor) showed me a picture of himself and Hillary from 1992. I guess they liked me because just as we entered the building, this nice man gave me his extra “special seating” ticket. For the third time in a week, in yet another serendipitous turn of fate, I was given the opportunity to see a political figure up close.
This “special seating” ticket was a mixed blessing. This ticket meant I got to stand ‘mosh pit’ style right next to Hillary’s platform in the middle of the stadium. Everyone else without tickets sat in the bleachers. And stand I did. I got in the mosh pit a little after 6 PM. Hillary didn’t come out until about 8:30!
Since I attended both Obama and Hillary rallies, I think a little ‘compare and contrast’ is in order.
THE MESSAGE AND DELIVERY. So much for the simple characterization that Obama is the one that stirs passion and optimism while Hillary is the policy wonk. Based on my little 2-event sample, the roles were reversed. It was Obama who stood behind a lectern and read a speech heavy on policy statements. Hillary was the one who just held a microphone and worked the audience into a frenzy with lots of applause lines and talk of optimism and the future.
Obama’s delivery was contained. He used little arms movements and stayed behind his lectern. Hillary was more physical. She waved her arms and moved around the stage like a southern preacher. After each applause line, she would smile, nod her head and survey the crowd until the cheers and clapping stopped.
THE ATMOSPHERE. I was struck by the quiet energy of Obama’s “Town Hall Meeting.” You could tell the crowd was willing and ready to whoop it up, but the event managers contained all that energy. Before and after Obama spoke, I could hear music, but it was played softly. No banners or posters were allowed. There were no warm-up speakers and Obama came on stage in a timely manner. Certainly, the crowd went wild when Obama entered the auditorium space. People were falling all over themselves to shake Obama’s hand as he left, but overall the energy level was muted compared to Hillary’s rally.
In contrast, Hillary’s rally was a rally by every definition. First of all, we all had to wait over 2 hours before Hillary showed. Perhaps the late 8:30 arrival time was intentional, a public speaking technique to create a crazed, euphoric sense of anticipation. During the waiting time, various guest speakers warmed up the crowd. It felt like a high school pep rally. Official and homemade Hillary posters were everywhere.
The event organizer (the same young guy that I saw at Bill Clinton’s rally at UT) came on stage and started throwing T-shirts into the crowd. He would tease the crowd by faking throws. The crowd loved it. Then one of the UT “Hillary for President” campaign leaders led the crowd in several Hillary cheers. Just like a football audience, we followed her cheer…”When I say Hillary, you say Texas…Hillary, Texas. Hillary. Texas.” When they left, we all continued to entertain ourselves by doing several rounds of waves.
THE CROWD. The Obama crowd looked like an Austin crowd…people you might see at Whole Foods or at REI. It was mostly white with a heavy contingent of black folks. I saw very few Hispanics, yet the crowd broke into several rounds of “Si se puede” just before Obama appeared.
In contrast, Hillary’s crowd was about 85% Hispanic and the majority women. The only African-Americans I saw at Hillary’s rally was the nice couple in line ahead of me that gave me their extra ticket. Overall, Hillary’s crowd felt a bit down scale, more of an HEB grocery store or even Wal-Mart crowd. When Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” song started to play, all the 40-plus Latina women around me sang the song in unison. The song is like a hard working gal’s anthem. I think Hillary knows this.
It was quite amazing to see the actual faces of the demographic descriptions of each candidate’s voter base.
Quite frankly, both my inner Whole Foods and Wal-Mart (I often deny my inner Wal-Mart) were at home in both crowds. Perhaps my comfort level in both rallies is a reflection of the conundrum currently facing the Democratic Party. Both candidates touch the same core values of a progressive’s heart and mind: optimism, hope, and idealism for such things as education, the environment, and health care. Yet they split the segment that shares these values based on gender, age, education, income, ethnicity, and location of residence.
Below are my two YouTube videos from Hillary’s event.
I got to shake Barack Obama’s hand on Thursday. It was a nice firm shake. His fingers are long and thin. The back of his hand is veiny, but the palm of his hand is very, very smooth. He looked into my eyes and flashed that Hollywood smile right at me. I was charmed. So much so, that it took about an hour for me to regain my equilibrium.
Here’s the story….Obama spoke at the Austin Convention Center at a so-called “Town Hall Meeting” on Thursday (the night after Bill Clinton spoke at UT). Obama people were passing out tickets for the event on campus. David picked up a couple of tickets. I later read that only 2,000 tickets were passed out.
I have been following this election with great interest. I usually love candidates, products, and services that are symbolic and emotional, yet I don’t “get” Obama. I wanted to go to see him in person because I wanted to try to understand the Obama movement. I wanted to feel the love and sing ‘Kum Ba Ya’ with all of his supporters.
David and I arrived late to the Austin Convention Center. David needed to make a pit stop. I went on ahead of him and told him I would meet him inside the meeting hall.
Everyone walked through a metal detector and had his or her belongings checked before entering the hall. I was a little disoriented when I walked in. Last time I was at the Austin Convention Center, the entire building was filled with Katrina refugees. I worked as a volunteer sorting donated clothes and folding towels. Instead of rows and rows of cots, this time I saw people sitting in stadium style bleachers arranged around a podium in the middle of the hall. The room was full of quiet energy as everyone waited for Obama to come out.
I made my way to one of the bleachers and waited for David to join me. A few minutes later, one of the event organizers came up to my area and announced that he had one seat available on the first row right behind Obama. This person would be part of the backdrop for the cameras. “Any takers?” he asked. All of us sitting there looked at each other. The woman next to me looked at me and said, “Go for it.” So I did.
This young man escorted me into the roped off, secured area right behind the podium. We passed those very interesting secret service guys, then he pointed to my seat. Yep. I was on the first row. Nothing between me and the back of Senator Obama. I had my camera and video. I was ready to go.
When Obama came out, everyone rushed to the ropes to get a better view. With my camera rolling, I got some amazing video footage. The crowd went wild. My heart was beating. My hands were shaking. I felt like a rock star was walking in.
The actual speech had few applause lines and more policy statements. I later read that his Austin appearance was a departure from his usual high-energy stump speeches.
With the cameras pointed at Obama and on to me, I was very aware of my role as a prop. I tried to clap on cue like everyone else. I actually did make it on the 6:00 and 10:00 local news. I was only on the screen for about 5 seconds, but I recorded the news, so I can pause and watch myself in amazement.
At the end of the speech, Obama started working the crowd. He was shaking hands and holding babies. As he got closer to me, I could hear the secret service men tell everyone not to push. He got closer and closer and closer to me. I put my hand out. Barack shook it. We smiled at each other. The women next to me squealed when he shook her hand. Marvin Gaye was playing on the loud speakers. I was feeling the love.
Here are some pictures from the Obama event. Please excuse the quality of the pictures. I need a better camera.
The press pool.
The cameras.
Obama’s podium.
Obama’s back.
Obama’s face (in a tight, unfocused, close-up).
Here is one of my first attempts at a YouTube video. Enjoy.
I first saw Bill Clinton in person back in the Fall of 1992 when he was running for his first term in office. He was speaking on the grassy area near the LBJ Library on the UT campus. I missed Deborah Morrison’s Advertising 387-Creative Topics class to attend the rally that warm afternoon. When I later explained my absence to Deborah, one of my favorite professors, she told me I made the right decision because I would remember his visit more than anything said in class that day. I don’t know what I missed in class, but I do know that I remember her words and philosophy. I apply this same philosophy with my own students. And this philosophy guided my decision to haul Emma out last night for the opportunity to see the former President of the United States.
The rally was slated to start at 5:30 on the UT campus. David, Emma and I got in line at 5:00. At promptly 5:30, the line started to move. As usual, David led the way while I looked around at everything and everybody. While we were inching our way toward the South Mall, I caught the eye of an "older" woman who stood out from the crowd like me. Mind you, this was clearly a UT student, 20-something crowd. For some reason, this woman and I locked gazes. I smiled. She smiled back. Then this woman with a ‘Hillary Volunteer’ badge started waving a bunch of yellow pieces of paper at me and called me towards her. “Here,” she said. “Take these special tickets.” I asked her why me? She said, “Because you brought your daughter.”
I gave David a “just stick with me” look and off we ran with our yellow tickets in hand. We bypassed the general standing area, walked passed security, and quickly made our way up the steps of the UT Tower Building.
From the steps of the Tower, we had the most amazing view of the crowd. We were standing with all the volunteers, event organizers, photographers, secret service guys and warm-up speakers. It truly felt like we were back stage.
After about an hour of very lame student speakers, Bill Clinton himself walked right by us as he made his way to the speaker’s stand. I held Emma close and whispered in her ear to remember this moment when she got to see the former President of the United States. She asked what “former” meant, but she understood “President of the United States.”
David and I are on a roll. I’ve got energy and we are going to hear Obama speak this morning at the Austin Convention Center.
Here are some pictures from last night....
Here is a visual cliché of Texas: cowboys with attitudes. People don't really dress like this in Texas. I think these young men are members of the Silver Spurs, an honorary service organization responsible for taking care of Bevo, the UT longhorn steer mascot.
Another Silver Spur fella under the UT Main Building.
I am fascinated by secret service guys. About a dozen of them surrounded Clinton while he talked.
A photograher pointed her camera out at the crowd while Emma surveyed the scene in disbelief.
Here is Bill Clinton as he walked by. I'd say Bill was about 6 feet away from us... about the same distance between our refrigerator and our side exit door.
The night before Chemo Day is usually a tense evening. To lighten up the evening, we have a tradition of ordering pizza. This time, the night before Chemo Day was a bit different. Ebru and Hakan from Turkey were in town. Ebru offered to take me out at night. I suggested we attend a political rally since both Barack and Hillary were in Austin for the debate. We both liked that idea a lot. I had read somewhere that a rally started at 10 PM, so I told her she should pick me up at 8:30ish for a late dinner and on to the rally. I haven’t kept these hours in years!
As planned, Ebru and Hakan picked me up after I got Emma in bed. Dear David stayed behind to watch the sleeping Emma. I told Ebru and Hakan that my “Chemo Brain” kicked in and that I got my rally days mixed up. The political rally was not on Thursday, but on Friday. No worries. We would still have a late dinner.
We tried eating BBQ at the County Line, but we arrived too late and the place was closing down (I think my European friends forgot that Americans like to eat early). So “Plan B” was the Iron Cactus on 6th Street. Yea, 6th Street! I haven’t been on 6th Street in years! I felt so young and happy and excited.
When we walked into the Iron Cactus a little after 10 PM, it looked like a normal restaurant. We ordered and waited for our meal. Then out of nowhere, at promptly 10:30 the place morphed into a nightclub. Bada bing. Bada bing! The lights were dimmed; the music started blasting and in walk all these beautiful, young women…lots of them… tall, blondish, thin women with fabulous clothes. Our table was right by the bar, so we were surrounded by blond hair, tanned legs, midriffs, and cleavage. Yes, there were young guys around, but the women were the showstoppers.
Ebru wondered what we were doing there. I started feeling quite old and poor Hakan couldn’t finish his meal because he was so distracted. One woman almost accidentally disrobed when she caught her wrap-around dress on my chair. Minutes later a fella almost impaled himself on my chair trying to get passed us.
It was so funny and wild to be in such a different environment. For the past several months, I have been living in the little space where “cancer world” and “kindergarten mom” merge. Yes, an odd space, but a familiar one. So, spending an evening at the Iron Cactus was a bit out of my comfort zone. I forgot about being young and single with strappy heels and dresses. Actually, the Iron Cactus was never my scene as a grad student, but I do remember when the only thing on my plate was reading journal articles and keeping a social calendar.
The actual infusion went well. Ebru and I talked about the political situation in the Middle East until I could no longer hold my eyelids open. I slept through almost all of the infusion process. Ebru cared for me like I was her child. I loved it.
On Saturday, I went back for the usual shots and saline solution. They gave me my “Chemo Graduation T-Shirt.” I took my last round of pictures. I thanked the nurses from the bottom of my heart and told them they were great, but I never wanted to see them again. They understood.
I was in that infusion room 13 times. (One test treatment + 6 actual chemo treatments + 6 follow-up infusions of just saline). Every time I just drive by the clinic on 38th street, I start feeling queasy. The smell of the soap in the bathrooms of the clinic make me sick. I can’t watch anything related to medical situations on TV because I might see an IV stand. I think it will take a while to get passed the mental imagery from this experience.
This weekend was particularly bad…nausea, headache, dry mouth and fatigue. Yes, the chemo effects are cumulative. I do not know how in the world people survive more than 6 chemo treatments.
Here I am with my nice chemo nurse, David and my graduation t-shirt which says, "Let's make cancer extinct."
Ebru and I with our Sweet Leaf Ice Tea Tops. Mine said, "Luck is when preparation meets opportunity." Ebru's said, "Be grateful for what you have."
In about an hour, I will start my 6th and final chemo treatment. I circled this date on my calendar back in October when I was trying to figure out when all this would be over. I remember noting that February 22 would be Washington’s Birthday and thinking how far off that seemed.
My dear friend Ebru and her husband Hakan flew in from Istanbul, Turkey to be my final chemo sitters. Ebru and I met in grad school. One summer, we lived together in New York City in a very tiny one-bedroom apartment in the Village. Like so many of my friends, we laugh a lot.
For those not familiar with Austin grocery stores, here is a primer: Austin is the home of Whole Foods. I have lived long enough in Austin to remember the original Whole Foods, a hippy grocery store with creaky wooden floors and florescent lighting. There are two really wonderful Whole Foods here in Austin including the flagship store for the entire company.
In addition to Whole Foods, Austin also has two Central Markets. Like Whole Foods, Central Market is a foodie paradise. Central Market is owned by HEB, but there is nothing HEBish about Central Market. We like Central Market more because it is closer to our house and because of the kid friendly Café which hosts lots of great local musicians. There is one little annoying, quirky thing about Central Market: the store layout. To prevent people from running in and out, Central Market aisles are laid out like a maze. Shoppers are forced to start in the produce section and then work their way through the meat, wine, diary, bakery, deli, prepared food and finally to the checkout counters. The idea is to encourage more time in the store, which means more sales.
So, last weekend, I was shopping in Central Market. By accident, I found myself in Central Market’s “Chocolate Covered Everything” weekend extravaganza. I had worked my way to the diary section when I was overcome with exhaustion. I needed a chair, but they don’t have chairs in grocery stores, much less at Central Market.
All around me, happy, energized people were sampling chocolate covered everything (pineapples, tofu, nuts, peppers, etc). Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives…pick up a little soy milk here, grab a few Kalamata olives from the olive bar there, get a loaf of black bean chipotle bread here, can’t forget the cactus pears there, a little pumpkin seed pesto just in case…... All of these busy foodies were swirling around me with their carts full of organic, locally grown, free-range, hormone-free stuff. As for me, I was exhausted. Forget the cage-free eggs, just get me a folding chair!
At this point, I allowed myself to feel sorry for myself. It actually felt very good to feel pathetic…. “Poor, sorry me. I don’t even have the energy to go grocery shopping. And if I can’t go to Central Market and buy expensive, exotic food that is not on my shopping list, then there simply is no more joy in my life.”
With no chair for relief, I just leaned heavily on my shopping cart and inched my way through the maze to the checkout counters. I collapsed when I got home.
Grocery shopping is just one of my many failed attempts to be “normal” again. Oddly, the fact that my cancer is gone has caused me stress and frustration. I keep thinking I am normal again, yet I am really not. I am still very tired, yet I want to jump back into life because I am in remission. I need to keep reminding myself that fatigue is the number one side effect of chemo and the effects are cumulative. I haven’t really bounced back from chemo treatment #5. I have my last chemo treatment a week from today. This too will pass.
Funny things happen when you are sleep deprived. Last week I was on steroids and going through the usual round of sleeplessness. Like always when I am on steroids, I was moody and emotional. On day 3 of the required 5 days of steroids, our clothes washer stopped working. I usually don’t get too worked up about broken appliances, but because I was on a daily dose of 100mg of Prednisone, the broken washer was like a death in my family. The Maytag washer was 28 years old! How could I not mourn the loss?
You see, the washer is the last remaining appliance from my Aunt’s original house. I inherited the house we live in from my dear Aunt Mary. David and I remodeled this house. I now have the best of both worlds…the warm memories of my Aunt’s old house together with a new, updated version.
In 1980 when it was first installed, the machine washed my Aunt’s clothes. So that meant blue and brown polyester pant suits plus lots of tea towels (thin, white embroidered towels used to dry dishes).
In 1991, I moved next door to my Aunt Mary. Because there was only one washer between the two houses, the Maytag washer washed my clothes too. I stuffed my grad school clothes into that washer: jeans and lots of black things.
After my Aunt Mary passed on, I got roommates to share the house. The machine washed their clothes too---Belinda’s pretty pastel sweaters and Logan’s jeans and sweatshirts. During grad school time, my friend Shari and I were regular Saturday night patrons at Borinquen, a south Austin Puerto Rican owned salsa dance club. That washing machine always did a nice job of getting smoke out of my clothes.
After finishing my dissertation, I emptied the house and moved to Berkeley with David. I rented the house to 3 young college guys and they used the washer too! I imagine that machine washed lots of guy clothes during that time.
In 2001, David and I moved back to this house. David started putting all his Gap jeans and shirts into the washer and I put my teaching clothes (still black) in as well.
In November 2001, I started putting in the clothes of our darling little baby girl. I began with pink little onsies and sleepers. Now I put in pink dresses and skirts. Most recently, that machine washed my cancer wear, which means sweats and other types of cozy, comfortable clothing.
This machine washed twenty-eight years of sweat, stains, smoke and dirt out of soiled clothing. Will our new washer take us to 2036? I don’t think so. They just don’t make them like they used to.
So the second part of our family vacation was in Vermont. We drove from Quebec City to Burlington, Vermont. We traded the novelty of visiting a French speaking, somewhat foreign city (Quebec City) for the comfort and familiarity of the US. 
David,Emma and I at the Montmorency Waterfall outside of Quebec City. It is true what they say about hair growth after chemo: it will often grows back in a different color or texture. My hair is now very, very curly but still dark brown. David is clearly proud to be a Texas Longhorn with his cap and color coordinated burnt orange t-shirt.
