I am back. I have been very busy with focus groups plus teaching at Texas State. This week was Mass Communication Week in the School of Journalism and Mass Communication at Texas State University. I spent the whole week attending talks on media related topics.
The keynote speaker was Scott McClellan, the former White House Press Secretary. I wish he would have endorsed Obama at our event instead of on CNN. You can check out the video of his keynote address at Texas State here.
In the video, you can see Scott McClellan's mother, Carole Keeton Strayhorn, walking toward the camera before the talk begins. Carole Keeton Strayhorn was the first woman to serve as the Mayor of Austin. She held that position for three terms. She also ran for Texas governor in 2006.
Throughout McClellan's talk, I enjoyed watching his mother react to McClellan talk. She laughed at his jokes. She seemed quite proud of her son.
After the talk, I bought Scott's book and got his signature. He thanked me for what I do. I liked that.
This past weekend I attended the funeral services of Martha Valderrama Knowles, a dear family friend of some eight decades. She died of stomach cancer.
My mother and aunt were childhood friends with Martha and her twin sister, Malena in Mexico City. As they tell it, the Valderrama twins and my mom and aunt, the Garcia de Mendoza girls, would roller skate around the neighborhood after school. Their route took them up and down Laurel Street in the Colonia Santa Maria La Ribera, a residential neighborhood in the heart of Mexico City. It was the 1940’s.
My mother’s family lived less than half a block away from the Valderrama family. Both families adored music, culture and the arts. My grandfather, a philosophy professor at UNAM and the Director of the Conservatory of Music, was Malena and Martha’s music teacher. Malena is a talented pianist in Boulder. She credits my grandfather with inspiring her musical career.
The girls were not only schoolmates, but also their parents were friends too. I have heard about those evenings so long ago when the two families would gather at one of the homes to eat dinner and to listen to recorded music of the great masters: Chopin, Bach, Mozart, etc. In my mind I can see the sepia-toned image of my grandparents, my mother, my aunt and uncle as children along with Valderrama family all sitting around the hi-fi stereo listening to records.
Life took my mother and the Valderrama sisters to the United States where they married American men and raised American kids. In the late 1960’s, Malena and Martha were living in Colorado when my uncle in Mexico was shopping around for a graduate school in the US. He decided to study physics at the University of Colorado because of the quality of the physics program and his childhood friends from Mexico were now living in Colorado. It was at this time that my mother and father decided to leave Texas and move to Colorado so that we could live closer to my uncle and the Valderrama sisters. So that is why my mom, dad and I moved to Colorado from Texas in December 1967.
The two families continued to gather in the US. The venue was different, but the appreciation for music and culture remained the same. I remember visiting Malena’s family in Boulder or Martha’s family in Denver. There would be a little bit of operatic singing and lots of beautiful piano music and always the laughter. One Christmas, I remember we ended the evening with a little limbo dancing (a popular Mexican Christmas tradition…just kidding).
Martha sang Bésame Mucho, a classic Latin love ballad, at our wedding in September 2000 in San Francisco. Malena accompanied Martha on the piano. The sisters brought down the house. There were audible gasps from the audience followed by cheers of “bravo” after the song. The clip of Martha and Malena singing at my wedding was played this past weekend at Martha’s service. Audible gasps of appreciation from the funeral audience were again heard at the end of the song.
At our wedding, our officiant said Bésame Mucho would be the lullaby that would cradle the next generation. Bésame Mucho is now our family theme song. When Emma was a baby, I would pull her out of her bath, swaddle her in a warm towel and rock her in my arms as I sang Bésame Mucho. It was our little ritual. To this day, I still help Emma out of the shower, throw a towel around her and try to cuddle and sing a few lines of Bésame Mucho before she’s off and running.
At Martha’s memorial, Gerald, one of Martha’s sons, spoke of his mother’s love for the United States. He told the story how she would say (in a thick Mexican accent), “I love this country and I love working for the government.” Indeed, she worked for a government office in Denver for some 25 years. Lyndon, her other son, told another story when she recently sang the Star Spangled Banner at the grocery store on the 4th of July just to get all the employees and customers into a patriotic spirit.
In addition, to her patriotism, Martha valued hard work, education and the discipline to achieve goals. She would always proudly say (again with the accent) “This is my son, Lyndon, the lawyer” in a way that captures all the optimism and glory of the American dream.
This weekend was a celebration of Martha’s life, of friendships that span decades, and reconnecting with the values of culture, education, and discipline that are both Mexican and American.
Here are the words in English to Bésame Mucho by Consuelo Velazquez
Kiss me, kiss me a lot, as if tonight was the last time. Kiss me, kiss me a lot, because I fear losing you, to lose you again. I want to have you very close, to see myself in your eyes, to see you next to me. Think that perhaps tomorrow I already will be far, very far from you. Kiss me, kiss me a lot, as if tonight was the last time. Kiss me, a lot, because I fear losing you, to lose you later.
Today is Emma's first day of first grade. She was very happy, yet calm and contained about going back to school. Emma announced a couple of weeks ago that she sure liked all the summer camps we planned for her and all, but she was ready to go back to school because she liked to learn.
One of the best parts of parenting is getting to relive childhood all over again through music, cartoons, art, books and toys from our own childhood. However, I am discovering (rather than remembering) Dr. Seuss books with Emma. I am not quite sure how I missed Seuss the first time around, but together, Emma and I are slowing checking out Seuss's collection from the library.
The Seuss books teach many of the values important to us: tolerance, equality, conservation, loyalty, curiosity, and creativity. One of the best lines comes from Ted Geisel's (aka Dr. Seuss) final book, Oh the Places You'll Go. The following charge is fitting for the start of an academic year....
”You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So…..get on your way!
As I return to Texas State to teach in a few days, I think Seuss' message of optimism rings true for me too. I turned 45 about a week ago. This birthday was significant for me. For the first time, I was glad to have the previledge of growing old.
Oh, so now everybody is talking about sarcoidosis, now that Bernie Mac died with complications due to pneumonia. He also had sarcoidosis, but it was in remission. Just a few days ago when I posted my entry about my sarcoidosis, it was a little known disease. Now, because of the press coverage, people are hearing about it for the first time and scrambling to understand. The articles I have read makes sarcoid seem worse than my experience. Perhaps I have a mild case of it. I hope the media spotlight on sarcoid will increase the possibility of research into this disease.
Here are some links for more information about sarcoidosis.
I am happy to report that I am “unremarkable.” I now know that in the language of medical reporting, “unremarkable” is good and “remarkable” can mean something very, very bad. So based on the results of my recent PET scan, I remain in remission.
In this first year of remission, I have alternating PET & CT scans every 3 months. My next CT scan will be in October, just short of my 1-year anniversary of my initial diagnosis. My PET scans are always challenging to read because the sarcoidosis in my lungs always shows up and makes it look like I still have still have lymphoma in the lymph nodes around my chest area. Sarcoid what? I know. I never heard of sarcoidosis either until last summer when my pulmonologist did a lung biopsy and found sarcoid in my lungs. (The biopsy was done because I had a “cloudy” chest X-ray result when I went in for a chest cold.)
What is sarcoidosis? It is an autoimmune disease in which tiny granulomas (small inflammations) form on organs of the body, most commonly the lungs (which is where my sarcoid is located). If sarcoid starts affecting the function of the organ, it is treated with prednisone --which is the same steroid that I took as part of my chemo treatment. Prednisone was the “P” in my R-CHOP treatment.
I take lung function tests (PFT-pulmonary function test) at one of the local hospitals every 4 months to make sure the sarcoid is not affected my breathing. So, far my breathing is normal. In fact, this last PET scan showed that the sarcoid in my lungs has gone down (perhaps an unintended positive side effect of the chemo?)
So, last year I was diagnosed with sarcoidosis in July and lymphoma in October. When we visited the lymphoma oncologist at MD Anderson, he told us that he sees quite a few sarcoid/lymphoma patients. He speculated that there might be some sort of relationship between the two diseases, but at this point, he said there is neither money nor prestige in this topic to generate any research interest.
Last fall, I thought my exhaustion and weight loss was because of the sarcoid. I remember searching the web for hours until I found that one sentence in the Internet that said sarcoid symptoms COULD include weight loss and fatigue. I had no idea that my vague feeling of poor health was because of a tumor growing in my liver.
At the end of my chemo treatment in February, I was presented with the possibility of participating in a phase 3 clinical trial with an experimental drug called enzastaurin. This drug is part of a clinical study to investigate the prevention of relapse in lymphoma patients. I was ambivalent about the possibility of taking this experimental drug because of the unknown potential side effects. Fortunately the drug maker rejected me for the study because of my sarcoid. Eli Lilly decided that my PET/CT scans would be too difficult to read and wouldn’t provide clear evidence of the drug’s success. I was very happy that the decision whether to participate in the clinical trial was made for me.
I haven’t used a comb or brush since November. My hair is still too short to brush. It is incredibly curly now. Some friends gave me a few barrettes for my short hair to up my “sass.” I am just happy it is my hair that is remarkable, not my PET scan.
Here is a picture of me with my wig off back in April with Dr. Fain, my oncologist.This doctor, along with the wonderful team of oncology nurses at Southwest Regional Cancer Center, together with R-CHOP chemo and lots of prayer from three major world religions made it possible for me to sit cancer free at my computer this very moment.
With one day left in Vermont, David, Emma and I decided to go for a walk in the forest. Forests are so calming and relaxing yet mystical and spooky. I love feeling both tranquil and alert at the same time.
We parked our car by a lake. Emma had her sweet, little pink jelly shoes on. We made her change into her sneakers before heading into the forest. Just as I was ready to put her slippers into the car, I decided to take them on a photo shoot in the forest. It seemed fitting that beautiful slippers that looked like they came off the feet of a princess fairy would be found deep in the forest. As we walked under the thick canopy of the greenery, I told Emma to watch for all the fairies who were hiding in the shadows. Emma is a big fan of fairies and I do what I can to keep that imagination alive. I said, “Let’s sprinkle a little pixie dust to see how many places we can find some jeweled pink slippers.” These are some of the images from our walk…
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.
