big-ass lump tested today

to confirm that it is only a hematoma. Veronica wanted to be absolutely sure that there was no sign of cancer. Good doctor. She noted that the hematoma and the lymph node under my arm are both smaller, even after only one chemo infusion.

I have an appointment on 12/12 to have the port put in. I'm still considering it, we'll see how things go this time.

my hair

has begun its departure, strange as anything. I'm so cold these days, even when I'm all bundled up. I told my mother this today and she agreed that being cold was very unusual for me. Now I have to wear a hat all the time simply for warmth. I look like a very frum (religious) woman, covered from wrist to ankle to collar bone and no hair showing. It's nice to know I'm not the only woman who dresses like this.

I'm spending a lot of time thinking about what will happen IF Veronica's worry is justified: this is a very big lump, 10 cm. in diameter. Like a golf ball. If this is not a hematoma, then what the hell is it? Veronica mentioned last week that it might be the cancer. OK, it was mentioned but . . . as Cindy likes to say, we don't know anything yet.

Cooooool long-sleeved t-shirts arrived yesterday which say 'Between cancer and Judith, cancer should be scared!' Avi, Marshall and I all wore ours today, Heshy will wear it when the weather is not so bitter. I've purchased a bunch for particular people, including Harriet, who said it first, but I'll be happy to order shirts for anyone who wants them. There's a minimum order of 10, I think, can be different sizes, and they cost $20 each. If you want to order a shirt, pls email me at judygail@sbcglobal.net. The shirt is white and thicker than a T-shirt, the letters are blue bordered with pink. No other designs or words, only as described. They are available in Child S, M, L, XL (which is also adult small) and Adult M, L, XL, 2XL. You can order just 1 if you like, or many. When/if I get enough orders I will place the order and it will take a couple of weeks.

Look, I don't expect many people will want to wear this, I'm just letting you know it's available.

Crappy weather is depressing. Cancer is depressing. I think I'll watch a movie in bed tonight.

a new medical development

I've had a big-ass lump at the lumpectomy surgery site which I was told is simply a hematoma and would need to dissolve naturally. It became infected right after the first chemo infusion, and when I saw Veronica (my surgeon) at that time she expressed concern about the lump. I am still taking the antibiotics she prescribed for it, and the infection is gone. Veronica called me last night to ask about it, and told me I need to come in for her to do an ultrasound of the area to determine the actual problem, since, if it really was a hematoma it should have completely dissolved by now. It's been there since 10/20.

I will see her on Wednesday morning at 8:30.

Link to Hair Cutting Party slideshow

This is lots of fun, if you're interested. The flash was an issue with the glaring lights, so ignore that pls. I love this, it was a fun time.

http://home.comcast.net/~kaylagarelick/judith/index.html

at the butt-crack of dawn

I'm up, feeling healthy and strong, and about to take Avi to the casual carpool pick up location and then Heshy to his school. I'll be earning a few bucks today at a focus group for women with breast cancer, then yoga tonight, even if I only watch.

my son the geek (and I mean that in a GOOD way)

I'm again enscounced in layers of clothing, a down comforter and, best of all, a breakfast-in-bed tray with legs on which my laptop sits. AND Avi has tweaked our network to allow me to print on our one workhorse 5-year-old HP printer right from my perch in bed.

I developed pain in my lower back that was beginning to worry me, no comfy position sitting or standing, when Ginna, who was standing next to me while I sat, gently placed one finger onto my shoulder and it was painful below. Suddenly it dawned on me how and why this pain started: as loving children often do, Heshy draped himself across my shoulders while I was sitting in a chair. He's done this before and I've told him to stop immediately, but this time it was long enough (2 seconds, maybe 3) to cause strain in my lumbar area. I stopped worrying, but couldn't get comfortable at all. Finally when I came home I took pain meds and now it's OK until the meds wear off.

One more thing I need like a frikkin' hole in the head.

This morning at services and the kiddush (wine and cookies at minimum, often a light lunch after services) I felt odd. Usually I don't sit my tush down in the pew very often, preferring to walk around in back or in the halls, or chatting with people far enough away from the sanctuary so as not to disturb the worshipers. Unlike the men who sit in the rear pews on the men's side, who talk continuously, thank you, you know who you are.

Today I sat, except for one trip to the potty. People came over, of course, everyone had sweet things to say about my situation. One friend in particular who only visits these days, his family moved themselves back home to Israel for the eldest child's benefit, well, here's what he said with a single finger touching my cheek and looking directly into my eyes: 'You will be fine, of this I'm sure.' Something about his tone, his manner, his earnestness convinced me that he was right. Not that I have been thinking differently, and maybe it's just because of his Argentinian proper-and-all-that upbringing and sense of propriety, anyway there's no sense in thinking too hard about it, it made me feel good.

The warmth generated between Alaine on my left and Ginna on my right helped me stay warm today. I was wearing, let's see, 3 layers on top beneath my big sweater, two thick layers below, socks and shoes AND a cool new hat. I don't know what else I could have done. Truth be told, it was a blistery, windy cold day and folks kept opening the exterior door (What? you say, what business do they have entering and exiting . . . oh yeah. At least they're there. oops.) and it was hard to avoid the cold. My rabbi made it a point to wait in line to see me (I could live without the notoriety, thank you) to say 'I'm really glad to see you here today.' He's such a mensch (good person).

Our young friend Rebecca, who boasts that her neighborhood shul (synagogue) is the Kotel (so-called Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, the center of the entire Jewish world), has written something lovely about me, I hear from her mom. But I have yet to see this piece, and now that I've heard about it I'd love to see it. Yes, Rebecca, this means YOU should send it to my email address please: judygail@sbcglobal.net. And please let me know if I have your permission to put it on my blog. I miss you, honey. Your family is doing well, especially Izzy.

Avi asked me this afternoon, 'Mom, are you happy right now?' to which I responded, 'Yes, I'm always happy, every day.' I have a wonderful story to tell about a couple I met a few weeks ago.

Mr. and Mrs. Armenians-from-Lebanon, in their 70s, emigrated from Lebanon as younger people and raised their children here. I overheard him saying he was sitting in the reception room of the Nuclear Medicine Department because he was early for one of a series of tests being done before some surgery. Didn't sound scary, I don't know his diagnosis.

This is the same waiting room where the lovely Eva-from-Poland-always-happy receptionist spends her mornings. She and I had been chatting, and Mr. and Mrs. A seemed amenable to conversation, so I opened it up to include them.

The lovely Mrs. A received a compliment from me about her beautiful skin. At 70 she had not one spot of discoloration on her face, not a single wrinkle, and her hair was long and stunningly salt-n-pepper. I told Mr. A that he was a lucky man to be able to look at this pretty woman all the time. As he began to tell me why he never noticed, his life story began to unfold.

They were married in Lebanon, having been raised there in the Armenian community. Their children were born in the US, and he spoke at length about the tsuris (troubles) he had from his two sons. In his plaid slacks and button-down shirt with a knitted vest, his rotundity accommodated by perching on the edge of his seat, he held up a hand and started counting, saying in his heavily-accented-but easily understandable English, 'Number 1 son, this one marries a young European woman. A big rush she's in to get married. She stays with him until the green card arrives, then she demands a divorce. And she never understood that a piece of bread, an olive, some cheese, THIS is a snack. Thank G-d they never had kids, but he's still alone. '

'Number 2 son, even worse. He marries an American girl, again she doesn't want to know from our customs, and they have 3 kids. The wife becomes a drug addict, demands $200 a week to support getting the damned drugs, and when he says no she takes him to court for a divorce and tells the court that he sexually touched his baby, she was 18 months. But the court lady, she knew, she met with the children and that was dropped. Now he lives in an apartment in our basement, and he only gets those kids every other weekend.'

He takes a deep breath, then summarizes for me, 'I don't have nothing good going on in my life, there's nothing to be happy about.'

'What about your wife's food?' I ask. 'I bet she's a great cook, and excuse me, it doesn't look like you've been missing meals.'

'Oh!' his face begins to lighten some, 'my wife is a wonderful cook, yes, when the children come to their daddy they run to her . . .'

Mrs. A chimes in, 'Grandma, Grandma, make me some Lebanese food!' Now they're both smiling.

Making some headway here, I ponder out loud to Eva, 'I bet their house is nice. '

'Oh, yes,' he puffs up, removing his glasses to clean them on a corner of his vest, 'We have been blessed all the years we've been here, we have all we need now, Thanks G-d.'

'And you mentioned having an apt. downstairs where your son lives?'

'Tsk, sad to say he has to live there, and he only sees those poor kids twice a month.'

'But that must mean that both of you get to see them that often, too. '

Deep sigh, 'I love these children,' he says with a look only a grandparent can make.

'But what's the big deal,' he says, 'you seem young and healthy, you talk about your kids, of course you're happy.'

Slowly I turn to Eva and ask, 'Should I tell him?' to which she responds with a crisp nod, clearly enjoying the give and take of the conversation.

'I have breast cancer. The test I'm here to take is going to tell me if I have any chance of a cure. For sure I know I'll be facing chemo, surgery, radiation, and no real way to work during that time. My husband is in the middle of a psychiatric crisis, and his old-maid auntie lives with us in a tiny apartment. No one can work. '

'BUT, sir, I have so many blessings that I count every day, so many people who are dear and close friends, a bunch of incredible children, and every day when I see what G-d has brought to us I feel like it's really for me.'

'I'm sorry,' he said softly, 'I had no idea. You seem so happy and relaxed.'

'OK, sir, please forgive me, but it seems to me that you experience true joy when you see the faces of your three beautiful grandchildren, am I right?'

'Well . . . I have to admit you are right.'

'And when you sit down with your beautiful wife and have a snack of bread, olive and cheese, isn't that pretty great?'

'But you just told me that you didn't have any joy in your life. No reason to consider being happy every day. Only problems which you enjoyed telling me about.'

He's quiet, his face is busy processing all of what I've said. I stay quiet, smiling at him and his wife.

Finally, after a long few seconds of silence, he speaks in a very soft voice with great tenderness, 'Yes, young lady, you are right. I could not see this before, but now I do. I'm glad you talked to me today . . .' and his voice trailed off while he considered our discussion.

Pray for inner peace and joy for all.

writing as a way of life

Looooong day today. I'm lucky these days to be able to sleep 5 hours a night. I have no desire to sleep during the day, and the weed only works on queasiness. Damn, it's hard to fill so many hours without needing something, anything to do.

I have started doing some hand work, specifically embroidery. Embroidery was one of the chugim, clubs, offered at my sleepaway camp in Ottsville, PA. I became quite proficient, progressing to doing my work on other people's clothing, a very late-60s thing to do. When I was pregnant and had small children I embroidered a large Shabbat tablecloth, two wall hangings for the kids, and one small challah (braided egg bread used in pairs on the Sabbath) cover which was intricate and took me years to complete.

There are a pair of stop-me-in-my-tracks adorable twins in my community, and their parents seem happy to hand them off to me. They will be one in a few weeks, as much as their beloved mother might not be ready for this to happen. Lauren is formidable, don't get me wrong, but age those children will. I've got some work already going for them, which keeps me from being bored and I can do it and talk with Stella at the same time.

I've been perusing craigslist today and found some interesting possible writing and publishing opportunities. One woman will pay the lucky winner of her contest $50 to write to her, I mean pen and paper write to her and mail it twice a week. I'd love to try that one, what the hell.

Writing is something I can't take any credit for. (Or grammar, obviously. tee hee) It's kind of like what some artists do, it just pours out of them, and I guess Penny is right when she says writing IS my art.

I want to be published somewhere, on line is probably the way to go. I want to write fiction, non-fiction, but always with humor.

Many friends who write for a living have been encouraging me to write, and not just this blog.

I just realized that I have no idea who is reading this. I know some people who start every conversation with 'I read your blog every day,' but what about Kelly's people I've never met and some yoga people I never see, I just don't know who is watching me.

Marshall and I talked statistics today. (Did you know he has a graduate degree in statistics?) If you want to know my 'chances,' as it were, I'll tell you but you need to ask. There's no possible way to rewind the conversation, though, so you might want to be really sure you want to know.

I'm not livin' by anybody's damned statistics. My body is different, my incredible strength and tenacity are different, but still - some days Avi tells me he loves me all day.

Today Rona stopped by to walk Bella and we walked her two blocks together. After dinner, dessert and rummikub I walked her the same two blocks with Marshall. I'm not able to keep warm now, I'm so bundled up all the time. The sky was clear and the stars were bright. The fresh air, I miss it so.

Pray for my best spiritual high in services tomorrow morning.

Thanksgiving

Yeah, it's hokey, a tired, worn out cliche, but here goes:

I'm thankful:

That I don't have to have the smell of cooking turkey in my house all day.

We won't be facing turkey leftovers again.

That Ginna and Edward and Isaac will be our family this year for dinner. That child . . . I could eat him up.

Yoga may be possible by Monday.

My husband is working really hard to get back on his feet, sharing his feelings with me in a new and hopeful way.

My children are all doing things they love: Emma paying her dues in print journalism, Sarah directing a Pinter play in New York to great acclaim (at NYU), Avi learning every tech thing there is while excelling in high school, and Heshy being thrilled at receiving 7 new (to us) neckties for his 8th birthday.

My printed shirts which say "Between cancer and Judith, cancer should be scared" are on their way to me.

I live in one of the most beautiful places on the planet and the weather finally turned solidly fall.

Burning leaves will fill our outdoor fireplace so I can have one brief minute of burning leaves, a smell I sorely miss from childhood.

My work responsibilities are on hold for now.

I am the recipient of so many prayers and blessings, today and every day, even when I'm not sick.

The crimson nail polish I put on my fingernails in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep still looks nice.

My siblings are all loving me and hearing that I love and appreciate them too. Sheila, who lives in Palm Springs with her partner Sheri; Jerry, the eldest, near Fremont (not too far from here); and David, back in Philly where we all grew up. I am in the best possible health to face this cancer; I can only imagine how disabling this would be if my health had already been compromised.

And thousands of other things. I may add to this later on when they come to me. Still feeling a tiny bit queasy.

pray for everyone's prayers to be heard.

my first real outing (Not to the doctor . . .)

I felt so steadily better yesterday that I made plans to run 2 easy errands today. I got up slowly, we had family time in the am which was delicious and we were all fully present. Avi went to school with Heshy, to his alma mater if you will - Avi's school has the day off today.

I'm rambling, sorry, If you know Eileen Auerbach, pls ask her to be in touch with me about a possible commission.

I got dressed (my thin jeans fit, but it's all relative) and took the dog for a 1/2 mile walk, which for me is usually nothing, and today it wasn't hard but it was therapeutic. Gorgeous crisp cold day - sadly rain is predicted for Thanksgiving. Bella and I visited our neighbor Maya, 17 months, and her caregiver Igisti, which means 'Queen' in the East African nation where she was born.

Then I got in the car and returned a bad iron (3 times I used it before it started to leak!) and then got to Kaiser just before lunch, so I met Walt and ate with him. I tried to go to the Business Office, but I forgot the forms I'd so carefully filled out in black ink on my dining room table! Kayla or Mary might call this chemo brain. Walt will take the forms in on Friday to submit for state disability payments. Might as well . . . can't work like this!

It was all I could do to shuffle to my car, drive home, change clothes and wash my hands and then fall into bed. I did not tire myself out, but if I'd tried to return to Kaiser with the forms it would have been tooooo much.

Fresh flowers arrived from Penny, she's so good to me. I may have time to stop by her office next week to get some work done. Or not, not a big deal until 2 weeks from now, and I think I'll train someone Penny and I know to do the monthly maintenance bills. I think that'll work in the short term, or I can do them at home with a fax and my looooooovely new laptop.

As I sit in my bed swathed in a patchwork quilt and supported by far too many pillows, I turn my face to the left and my eye is caught by our persimmon tree ablaze with orange, yellow and green, swaying ever so slightly in the soft breeze, the sun already beginning its descent at 3:35. I will have the undivided attention of my entire family for the weekend, Ginna and Edward will see to my needs for Thanksgiving and I pray I'll feel well enough to receive all the blessings of my worship family at Beth Jacob congregation on Saturday morning. In person.

May G-d continue to endow me with clarity and short bursts of energy. Happy Thanksgiving.

a genuine burst of activity

had me cleaning out the closet the boys share, finding many articles of clothing appropriate for services that are just a bit too small. Time for hand me downs again.

I feel soooo much better, thank G-d! Tomorrow I will walk, do some banking, other errands, and I'll be very careful to avoid sick folks. I do need to fill out the disability forms and submit them to the business office at Kaiser.

Oh, get this: I have a receipt from the Kaiser pharmacy which states that my drug benefit has saved me $3,500! I paid $35 for two rounds of injectibles. Amazing

Ironing

Believe it or not, I've been ironing today! I must have some of my mother in me, and to her it's critical that we look our best in public. Recently I've gotten Avi some proper sport shirts and they all need to be ironed. Must to my surprise, I love doing it! Reminds me of cleaning the couldn't-be-more-tarnished silver of the last Marshall Cohn, of blessed memory, when he was getting ready to move out of his childhood home into his first house. He was 6o-something at the time. Anyway, Deb and I were there helping him and cleaned silver that was absolutely black with tarnish. There was a sense of deep satisfaction bringing those ancient silver pieces back to rights. And now Avi has some pressed shirts to wear, it's all good.

My stomach is back to normal, but I'll continue to eat light meals for the duration. I think it's a better way to go in any event.

You know how you can't effectively take vacation at home since the chores stand up and scream at you every time you enter a room? That's how I'm feeling now, I think I'll go address the boys' thank you notes from their birthdays a month ago.

OK, I'm not insane, this is NO vacation. Which reminds me, I have disability forms to complete.

It's so nice to have a computer where I need it most - like with me and for my use all the time.

watched a movie and didn't fall asleep

definite signs of improvement here in my bed. I watched "Bride and Prejudice" and remembered the whole thing, a first since chemo. Our Emma will be back in India for a 3-week block of time at the end of December. Maybe someday I'll get to India . . . although at this point I'd settle for Lakeshore Ave., 1/2 mile away.

I continue to eat small meals with lots of protein, as instructed, and have lost the few lbs. I'd gained a few days ago.

I'm not feeling witty or clever . . . but I do feel better, bit by bit.

Seeing the light of day, finally!

It hasn't been since Saturday night that I've felt sorta normalish. Stella, Marshall's 87-year-old auntie who lives with us, continuously asks me if I've eaten, and what I've eaten, and why I'm not eating regular meals. And when I speak to my mother all she can ask is "So when's the surgery?" even though we've all tried to explain that with me it's chemo first, then surgery, then radiation.

So, does getting old mean I have to be like them?

My new laptop is FABULOUS. I can sit wherever I want in our place and type to my heart's content. Now that I feel well enough, anyway.

The injections I have to give myself are not bad at all - a tiny sting when the needle breaks skin, but otherwise nothing at all. Once a day, and the drug is called neupogen (sp?) which will help my bone marrow make new healthy red blood cells. I think. It's a lot to remember.

OK, that's enough for now. I'm headed back to bed to rest, will check in later.

using my new laptop

thanks to Sheila. I still feel rotten, and now the bruise in my breast from the lumpectomy is infected - had to go to the surgeon today and get antibiotics. I am hoping tomorrow will be a better day.

Stuck in a rut

I can't seem to find a comfortable position to sit or lay down, everything on/in my body feels wrong somehow. I still can't wrap my head around how many details there are to keep track of, and I feel like absolute crap.

Sunday am. Blue, lonely, uncared for, scared

I am not the kind of person who sits around. Admittedly, I used to be. All this sitting around is driving me nuts! I haven't been awake in bed during the day for so many months. What am I supposed to do with myself?

Marshall is not up to remembering that I could use more attention . . . and a parade of friends and relatives is not going to do me any good either.

Quite simply, even though I feel ok physically my emotional state is unmitigatedly bad.

Cindy and I just strolled for an hour

And I still feel great, honest. I've been trying to figure out what protein I can eat, since Marshall forgot to make lots of extra chicken last night, Sheila reminded me of nuts, peanut butter, hardboiled egg, cottage cheese. As children together we enjoyed peanut butter on toast, and it was yummy this morning.

I'm about to eat something, change into my special Karen Neuburger jammies, hop into bed and watch a DVD with Cindy.

Up at 7 feeling just fine

Yawn and stretch . . . big glass of orange juice, a few hits on the pipe. Life feels good.

The visualization of my wonderful friend Tanya as the chemo. I can see Tanya hugging me, then explaining that she has to do something that might hurt or be messy, but it has to be done. She enters my body and beats up every cancer cell with no mercy whatsoever. She calls to me to remind me that she'll have to jump around on my stomach in order to get a good shot at the cancer in my left breast. 'Sorry, but I gotta do it this way, you understand me, right?' (I know there's a different phrase she used all the time, but I just can't remember it.)

Tanya's image comforts me soooo much. I know if she were here she'd be all over me, helping me, doing everything she could do.

On leaving Marin on Thursday I found myself at the precise spot on the Richmond/San Rafael bridge which shows sunset to it's best advantage. The day had been clear, no fog had come crawling in, round wisps of clouds hung in the lower sky to the north of Mt. Tamalpaid. Brilliant copper light from the clouds as the sun was in decline was almost too bright to look at. Every few seconds on the bridge I'd look over my right shoulder and there was evidence of G-d in this world of hours. There's really nothing more beautiful.

Came through 1st chemo infusion just fine

It was all so easy, it was no big deal for me. Yet. I was worried about the nurse's ability to find a proper vein, but that went really well and I'm considering not having the port installed. It would be 2-3 weeks from now in any event, so I will have the 2nd infusion the way I did today.

There was no discomfort whatsoever. Amazing. I had a nice lunch beforehand, and now I feel as full as I did at 1:00, and there's a metallic taste in my mouth. I feel almost 100%, just a little tired. Cindy went out to get a bunch of chick flicks and we'll curl up in bed and watch them.

The morning was so incredible, everyone I saw said my hair is now 'chic,' and I've always been vehemently anti-chic, but what the heck. . . I like the way my head looks without hair, and it will likely fall out just before the 2nd infusion which will be on 12/2. My sister Sheila will be in for that.

Short hair looks GOOD on me!

And I'm not just making the best of it. It really does look good, kind of like my friend Nicki Gilbert.

I've never actually met Joan in person, but during the time we worked together for 3 years while I was with Sberlo Plumbing and she is their tax person we developed a warm bond.

Joan provided a very clear picture of my chemo - it's a tough-as-nails friend who is going to help me beat cancer. The visual I use is my very close friend Tanya - she used to live here, worked for friends of mine, and I saw her every day, we were this close. Tanya's lots of fun, but if she got mad - watch out! Her big, strong body and the look on her face, and the volume of her voice, well . . . anyone would be intimidated by her! Tanya is back in Brazil these days, I miss her every single day, but now she'll be with me when I go to chemo, kickin' ass and takin' names.

Chemo is my friend?

Dear, sweet Kayla, another cancer-survivor friend, told me she felt that chemo was her friend in the battle against cancer.

Now, I'm trying as hard as I can to think about it that way, but the debate in my head rages on.

Would your friend make you throw up, be hairless, have a severely compromised immune system, make your bones and muscles ache and leave you looking like death warmed over?

But THIS friend is working hard to fix what ails you, and the adversary is so strong it will certainly KILL you if you don't have chemo.

Everyone I've ever met or ever will meet, and all those folks on TV, they will all die eventually, it's a universal truth.

Okaaaaay . . . but you know you want to meet your grandchildren . . . and you just told someone you intend to live to 100.

But I don't WANNA be so sick right now. I hate the idea of not being able to shop in a store where there are lots of people. I love to talk to people, meet new people, collect hugs from friends and family.

Review your priorities, lady. You have a bunch of kids who love you and whom you adore. You are as healthy as a horse right now and are in the best position to BEAT CANCER.

Fine, whatEVER. I am absolutely dreading all of the treatment. I wish I could buy a replacement like folks used to do with the draft in the old days.

This discussion rages on throughout the day. Not like I have any choice, of course.

Cindy comes today - YAY. She and I met in high school, we both had an interest in men's gymnastics (hers was a boyfriend, mine was a true interest in the sport), and we became so very close in those years. When she moved out of her dad's house it was MY father, the late Harry Rosenthal of blessed memory (I miss you, Daddy), who provided her with all the used furniture she needed. (He had rental property in Philly, where we lived, and folks often left stuff behind.) I don't even remember that, but she does. I was the only attendant at her wedding to the father of her boys. We drifted apart for a number of years, still always making sure we could find each other.

When my family had to suddenly move to New Jersey for six months about 7 years ago I had the chance to drive around my old stomping grounds, and I passed her childhood home. Suddenly I wanted to see her. When I called her later that day, she said, "I've been thinking about you a lot recently." That sealed the deal. Back we went to being very close friends, even though she's there and I'm here. We talk on the phone regularly and email every day, pretty much. We usually get to see each other once or twice a year.

The thing about Cindy is that she knows my 'stuff.' And she's not afraid to say something provocative to me, because she loves me and knows I won't fire her for it. It's a very rare friendship to have, I'm incredibly blessed by it, I'm just sorry I'll miss her upcoming nuptials this spring.

And then in two weeks Sheila will be coming up from Palm Springs. No one could ask for a better sister, but we didn't grow up being very close. Just before Dad died in 1980 she had an epiphany about me and my attitudes about life . . . the door to a close relationship opened that day.

More about Sheila another day, I'm off to work, the last day for a while, wrapping things up with my gigs and then tonight will be the party! We'll start at 7:30, likely the cutting itself won't happen until a bit later, but we should be done by 9. There will be parve treats, I'm told.

Afterwards, if I've got the energy, I'll go for a walk with Cindy. Only G-d knows when I'll feel up to another walk. OH, I just realized I can walk tomorrow morning, too. Great weather for it.

How to reach me

I realize that it's sometimes frustrating not to be able to call, but so many people call me who MUST be calling me that I can't take extra calls. Not to say you can NEVER call, but if it's not urgent it's better to send an email.

That said, if you need my address or directions for tomorrow night, please email me at judygail@sbcglobal.net. I am not posting my street address because there are now many people I never met who are reading this blog . . . it's a security issue.

Oh, and this weekend at Beth Jacob Congregation in Oakland, where we worship, Avi is reprising his bar mitzvah Torah portion. Too bad I'll miss it - if you're there please kvell for me.

I'm so incredibly stressed and scared and hysterical - another day on the ranch.

I'm making up t-shirts which say "Between Judith and cancer, cancer should be scared." Which Harriett said, thank you dear.

Still lots of little things to do

Like picking up injectibles (sp?) and syringes from the pharmacy (I'll be giving myself subcutaneous injections from day 3 until day 13, day 1 being chemo-infusion day), a hair clipper for my friend Shmuel to use on my head on Thursday night, renting of DVDs to watch while I'm 'relaxing' after chemo, stuff like that.

I need a vacation. With work and all these appointments and blood draws and tests and meetings I'm totally spent. Then I have rides to organize or take myself, I need to re-read the chemo information (there's something like 45 pages I need to KNOW), the list actually doesn't end.

One of the drugs to use during chemo to prevent nausea is weed - marijuana. The chemo nurse said it's wise to take advantage of it, and I plan to do so. I'd rather treat the nausea with a natural substance than with drugs that have nasty side effects.

I look Heshy out for ice cream after school today, a sput-of-the-moment decision when I picked him up at school. We had fun, we stole tastes of each other's ice cream, and he got very dirty, which means he enjoyed himself thoroughly. He keeps talking about my hair-cutting party, the chemo, Cindy coming for the weekend. I know he's worried, I don't blame him, and I've warned him over and over again that I'll look waaaaay worse before I'm better.

I'm so wiped. I need to get a good night's sleep tonight, last night it wasn't possible.

Oh, I called about the port being put in for chemo infusion purposes, and I was told it would have to be done in Martinez (but maybe in Oakland? I should ask . . .) and would be weeks away. So not fast, but eventually.

Pray for stress relief.

Wrapped too tightly and working hard to finish up

Our computer was down at home this morning, and I was busy training my replacement in San Rafael, now I've got to leave Mill Valley (leaving LOTS of work on my desk) to pick up Heshy. I still have a great story to tell, I'll get around to it.

I am holding on. Yoga today was lovely, quiet, peaceful, and Happy Birthday Ellen!

Thursday, 7:30, hair cutting party.

CT SCAN IS NEGATIVE

THANK G-D!!!

Chemo will start on Friday, come over to help me cut my hair on Thursday evening at 7:30.

Have you ever had one of those days when . . .

traffic lights turned green just as you saw them, parking spots opened up before your eyes, no one had to put you on hold?

While I am anxiously wondering what the scan results will be, I'm in awe of how so many parts in my life ARE coming together. Marshall aside, here's what's new:

I cancelled an appointment I had tomorrow for a radiation consult. I called the place (Kaiser subs this out) and asked if the consult really HAD to be tomorrow, considering that I've got 4 months of chemo ahead of me, followed by surgery. The answer was a resounding 'no,' and we agreed I'd ask Dr. Russin to call after everything else is done to reschedule the consult. Whew, one big thing off my plate.

Now Heshy will be at 'Homework Club' two afternoons a week if I need it, so on Thursday I'll be able to come to Marin one more time, but NOT at the time I've been coming this week. It took me 90 full minutes to get to Mill Valley today. All the beautiful weather and good songs on the radio don't make up for my tush being in my car that long, ya know?

Oh, and I'll be seeing my Oakland client late today, and that should be almost the end of that gig for now.

And nothing in the world starts my day better than being with my children as they are waking up. They are warm, pink-cheeked, angelic (sorry, Avi) and we just give each other love. Avi less so, he's in a hurry to travel to school in San Francisco - two buses, it takes about an hour. But Heshy, my baby . . . I kiss him on the cheek to awaken him, we snuggle up in his warm bed, he lets me plant endless kisses on his face, sometimes I scratch his back for him. We talk about whatever pops into our heads, and then, when he starts to wiggle, I help him pick out clothes (he often vetos my choices), he gets dressed, and we plan breakfast for him.

Honest to G-d, there's nothing more wonderful in the entire world. I adore my boys, and they adore me back. What nachas (pride in your offspring)!

Still no news

The weather for my last week of feeling great before chemo starts is like a gift. It should go into the 70s today, amazing for almost Thanksgiving.

Marshall is trying hard to engage in life, it seems, at least since our ER visit. He will be beginning intensive outpatient therapy for 9 hours a week starting tomorrow.

I'm wrapping things up at work in Marin, so I'll try to write more later. I have an incredible story to tell about a couple I met while I was waiting for the cardiac scan last Friday.

I am calm and serene . . . namaste

Yoga does wonders for my mood. Now I know just how wonderful it is, because I walked into yoga wimpering and stressed, and walked out quite calm and peaceful.

Still waiting on test results. I feel like the woman in the Mervyn's ad "Open, Open, Open" she can't wait for the store to open and she's got her face plastered against the door and is banging on it.

I've decided I'll have to have a port put in, which I detest, because three pokes in 1 day was 3 pokes more than I could bear.

I need this added stress like a hole in the head

I wish there was some way I could fast forward my life about a year. The next few months are going to be waaaaaay more difficult than I first imagined, because Marshall will be spending a huge amount of time in therapy (hopefully engaging) and I must either drive the boys everywhere or get someone else to do it. I love that private time with them, and they really value it too, so I'll do the driving when I can, and I know it will be easy to arrange other rides of them, but here's a new level of worry every week day and all weekend.

Avi takes himself to school and back on the buses, so that makes things easier. Today I dropped Heshy off at school and it took me a full hour to get to my Mill Valley office. Not horrible traffic, really, but still . . . an hour later I'm here. I used to begin my work day at 7, 9:15 is really late, although Penny, my boss in Mill Valley, is totally flexible about this, thank goodness.

After I've done payroll at both Marin offices this week I'll be cutting back on time at both. I know Lisa, my sweet co-worker and friend, will miss me (as I will her), but I need to be able to take care of my stuff, and it wouldn't be fair to anyone for me to drag this out unnecessarily.

I'm frustrated, annoyed, worried, and sad. Every morning I wake up and make the decision to be happy, then my shoulders start to migrate up around my ears all day and I have to mentally push them back down or I get a headache. I've had that headache for 2 days now.

I plan to expand my yoga practice and go to Ellen's class on Wednesdays, including THIS Wednesday. Yoga is incredibly relaxing, energizing and recuperative for me, but I can't seem to make myself do it alone. Just like those nasty 5-lb. weights that stare at me from the shelf above my head, sometimes they even shout at me, but I don't engage. Kinda like when Marshall gets upset, I don't permit him to rant at me, and I don't engage.

Marshall. A lifetime of anger and depression has left him empty. I am trying not to think about the hopelessness of his situation, because it really isn't anything I could ever control or help, but still . . . he is the father of our children, he's living in the house with us, he's shutting down in so many ways and no one other than Marshall has any control at all over any of it.

I'm excited about seeing Cindy, my friend of 30+ years, when she comes to help me during and after my first infusion. Oh, of course I may NOT be having that sort of chemo, but I have to hang on to the hope that I will.

I expect to hear from Dr. Russin again this week sometime, and I'm praying hard for a positive result on the CT scan. As Avi sometimes says "PLEASE G-d."

Winston Churchill once said

"When you're going through hell, keep going." Thanks to Marinell, that helps!

Little success at the ER

We were there for 5-1/2 hours and the bottom line is that they won't admit him because he's not an immediate danger to himself or others. I had to promise to drive the kids everywhere they need to go, to never ever let him drive them, or CPS would be called immediately. He has agreed to participate in an intensive outpatient therapy program, but the psych person he saw told me that she thinks it's a hopeless situation, since Marshall has consistently refused to engage.

An ER visit planned

But not for me, thank goodness. I'm as strong and healthy as an ox.

Not Marshall, sadly. He's functioning at such a low level, forgetting details as soon as he learns them, so many things are going wrong at the same time. I spoke with the Psych advice nurse late last night and she suggested that he may be a good candidate for inpatient treatment.

Marshall has agreed to come to the ER with me, I have provided him (at his request) with a long, detailed list of all of my concerns.

This is a low point for me, I'm sad that things have sunk to this level. I am feeling quite strong myself, both physically and mentally, and I understand that his mental health is not connected to me, it's his and he has to deal with it. A couple of my friends who've dealt with loved ones who suffered from mental illness, one of whom did not survive, have been encouraging me very strongly to have him committed before bad or scary things happen.

I'm not angry with Marshall, although for a long time I'll admit I was. Those angry reactions stopped the moment I realized that he had no control over this actions, that he's quite ill, and now mostly I pity him, he needs help in a big way.

Last night I asked Marshall what he would tell me to do if I were his sister. He was silent. I know what he'd say, and I'm doing it today.

Pray for healing for Marshall.

A rough day all the way through

Yesterday I worked so hard to keep myself together and upbeat, but today my composure left me. I was talking to some people after services and I had to excuse myself and find a quiet corner where I could cry, and cry I did. I cried my eyes out, mostly thinking about not wanting to leave my children motherless. When I returned to the area where people were standing around schmoozing it was obvious I'd been crying, but I felt better for the cry.

As Marshall's comfort zone continues to get smaller I'm forced to face the fact that I'll need to enlist the help of friends to manage some of the most simple things that are not getting done. Several recent conversations with people who know Marshall really well have left me with the sinking feeling that he may need more help than any of us expected. I wasn't at services on time to hear Marshall chant Torah, (Bible), but I heard that his delivery was choppy and mumbled, a very worrisome deterioration of his ability to communicate clearly. This is really the very last thing I can deal with now, but I have no choice. Deep sigh.

Onto other matters - I am working hard on patience right now. I know that full results of the CT scan will not be available for several more days. A lot hinges on that test, I met the doctor who will be doing the reading of it, I'm confident he knows what he's doing and the last thing he should do is hurry.

A suggestion was made to me that I stop working soon and devote myself to getting well and being with the kids. While I know I cannot rely on Marshall making any money at all, I hate the idea of having to scramble for support. This is horribly uncomfortable for me, but quite necessary. Where will it end?

I'm preparing an Ethical Will to give to each of my kids. It's something I've always wanted to do, and now seems as good a time as any to do it. Lots of little tidbits of advice, for example: Find your passion and, if necessary, get a day job to support it.

Funny to imagine that a few short months ago I was psyched about being so strong, facing 50 soonish in the best possible health. How fast things change.

Tonight I saw a girl who is a classmate of Heshy's. She noticed the pouch I wear suspended around my neck and wanted to know what was in it. As I started to tell her I had to say, "You know I'm very sick, right?" and when she indicated that yes, she knew, I wondered how it seemed to her to see this remarkably healthy woman she's know since she was 2 saying those words. Talk about cognitive dissonance.

Pray for patience.

Tests are done for today

The heart scan was for a baseline, and it looked interesting to me on the screen. The CT scan was quick and painless, and I asked the tech to show the scan to me, which she did. The doctor said that there are lots of pictures to review, but overall he didn't see anything big and scary.

Shabbat is now, I have to sign off, but I will write more tomorrow evening

scared, depressed, angry, frustrated

and that's not all. I'm not scared of the scans - in the past week I've had a bone scan and a CT scan and the machines are not AT ALL uncomfortable. I'm waaaaaay afraid of a positive result. Mary, Kevin's wife, who has been writing to me and is incredibly helpful, being a breast cancer survivor (I've been informed that as soon as the diagnosis is made you become a 'survivor') is 100% sure that the scan will be negative. As is Cindy, who is coming out here either way.

But honestly, who could possibly know? I realize that positive thinking goes a long way. . . and since I've been the lemonade lady (when life gives you lemons . . .) for so long I know how to do that. My word stones and my increased body awareness from my yoga practice have helped me to relax, and even to de-stress when I feel it coming.

As I sat in my basement by myself with Bella, our dog, I looked up and saw the old knob-and-tube wiring with which this house had been lit 100 years ago or so when it was built. It reminded me of the knob-and-tube wiring in the house we owned for 10 years in San Francisco. The original SF house was very small, 4 rooms and a bathroom. Over the years it had been remodeled several times, with major additions along the way (13 rooms in all!), so most of the wiring had started similarly to what is conventionally seen in modern homes. But when we removed the dropped ceiling (which had the nastiest fluorescent light fixture known to man), we discovered evidence of the old wiring.

Something about older houses, especially those which were left basically intact, calls to me. I imagine the detailed work done by artisans of the time, carefully laid hardwood floors, gently coved ceilings, all of that. And those workers never imagined that I would be noticing their work 100 years later.

Do you think anyone will remember the work I've done in my life 100 years from now?

The writing is cathartic, I feel much better.

I'm off to see Neska, then to eat a big breakfast, the cardiac scan for 90 min. starting at 11, then the CT scan at 3:30 with Ellen.

I will not have access to the internet during the day, and I may not have use of my phone for much of it either. Send blessings please. For those unfamiliar with exactly how to do this, it's easy: Start with "May you . . ." and add whatever feels right to you. A quick email with a blessing would be a MOST welcome way to get ready for Shabbat (the Jewish sabbath).

Courage is today's word

Today I had a chance to snuggle with my boys and drive them to their respective AM places. I'll be having some unexpected free time ('What's that?' you say, 'she doesn't HAVE any free time') and I'll be taking a circuitous route to my Oakland office. I'm mostly set to have another bookkeeper whom I trust, a dear friend, take over for me temporarily. I'll miss seeing everyone, it's fun to work in an office with a great salad bar on street level and huge slices of incredible pizza right around the corner, $2 each.

Funny thing is that I've not been eating my way through this ordeal all day every day. I've been treating myself with quiet time, trinkets and the occasional ice cream. But after 8 pm, nothing edible is safe around me. Even so, I've gained only 1.5 lbs. For me, that's amazing.

Had blood work done today - pre-chemo stuff, and the gene test. I'm getting used to getting stuck with a needle, what has become of the woman who almost fainted each time there would be a needle stick? Oh yeah, it must be the Paxil.

Cindy is coming from Philly to stay with me the weekend of the 18th. Chemo or not. I can't wait to see her, I even think she'll be able to stay in the B&B around the corner from me.

Chemo is scheduled to begin on Friday, 11/18

The chemo nurse from Walnut Creek called today to schedule my first infusion, and it will be on Friday, 11/18 at 1:30. My dear friend Cindy is flying in to take me and be with me that weekend. My sister has agreed to take the next one, which will be December 2.

HOWEVER, if the CT scan is positive then the chemo will not happen. There will be treatment, but not chemo.

So, as I feel my shoulders start to edge their way up to my ears with stress, I hear Ellen's voice telling me to soften my shoulders, to effectively disengage them, and the stress headache never starts.

Today I got some wonderful gifts, perfect for lying in bed being a prima donna. A pair of pink pjs. matching fuzzy bed socks, undies, a big soft robe and fluffy slippers - I can't wait to use them. I only wish I didn't have to . . . but I guess I have to.

I am sorry folks feel that I've been unreasonably harsh to Marshall two posts back. If you knew us well you'd know this has been happening for a long time, we've seen counselors, therapists, our rabbi, you name it. I was hoping to have Marshall 'get it' when he read what I wrote, but he did not. It's all very sad.

When/if chemo will begin

I spoke to Rachel today - the chemo will not begin until all the test results (except the BRCA1 and BRCA2 test) are in. After the results are in, if they are negative, then I will get a call from the infusion nurse to set up an orientation appointment, after which the chemo will be scheduled for 'right away,' whatever that means. My best guess is that chemo will start late the week of 11/14 or later.

Mary, my friend Kevin's wife, who also has breast cancer, told me that the cardiac scan is done for a baseline, since the chemotherapy that will happen first can have an bad effect on the heart. Nice to know.

Now here's how to talk to me, if you want or need to: Send email. My phone had been ringing so much that I couldn't get work done, but emails are fine. I do expect, however, that anyone who emails me has already checked the blog to be up to date. If there's anything at all that raises a question in your mind, please tell me and I'll try to answer your question. Try to stop yourself if you are going to provide any war stories, unless they are about you, not your sister or your friend or co-worker. Prayers, blessings and news about your life are always welcome. Pictures of adorable children are mandatory. I love children.

Oh, and if you are a member of my immediate family, either my family of origin or my current family, the 'do not call' rule does not apply so strenuously. I know that my siblings are checking the blog, that really helps.

Trying hard to focus on good today . . . but I'm not having much success. I'm scared, I'm disoriented because I don't know what will happen next week or next month or next year.

Truly break of day

Driving south on 101 between Larkspur and Mill Valley, just as the sun was about to emerge from beyond the East Bay hills, scattered clouds were lit up as if they were on fire, the brightest orange, with the sky below them filling with light in shades from pink to yellow to orange. Magnificent. Seen as a blessing after a really tough yesterday.

I have put in a call to Rachel Whalen, the breast care coordinator, with the following questions:

1. If CT scan is positive, will chemo follow as planned?
2. Dr. Russin said chemo will begin the week of 11/14. When will it start, or when will I know when it's going to start?
3. Dr. Russin ordered a cardiac scan and never mentioned it in our meeting. What is it for?

Rachel calls back quickly, so I hope to hear from her in the next couple of hours.

Mostly today I am feeling overwhelmed. Marshall works hard at home shopping, cooking, doing laundry and schlepping the kids. But he hasn't worked in almost 2 years, and to say money is tight is putting it mildly. He has a lot of trouble controlling his impulses in a health care setting, and therefore I can't ask him to accompany me to any of my appointments. His Aunt Stella, his mother's sister and caretaker, has lived with us since April. She and I get along ok, I don't buy into her constant state of worry and anguish, but things with the boys can get a little contentious. Stella has no other family and does not feel she has the finances to support a move to an independent living place. Thank goodness she kicks in some.

But I have so many tasks to accomplish with my medical care, not to mention all the stuff in our family that Marshall doesn't do. Right now the van transmission is shot, 3rd time in 6 years, (we have a rental) and this is a Honda we're talking about. My right headlight is out, the van stickers haven't been picked up from the DMV, Heshy needs glasses to replace the ones he has lost, the dog only gets walked now and then (but she does love the garden), Avi needs ME to take him for an injection and a blood draw, school conferences for Avi are TOMORROW and I just found out that we have no appointments to see anyone, Marshall didn't think it was necessary. I have to keep working as much as I can, of course, but none of my clients/employers are getting their work fully done. They all want to keep me, but I have so much to do otherwise with my care I just can't continue at this pace, and I'm feeling great now, imagine how rough this will be when I feel awful.

Deep sigh. I am putting together a list of volunteers for Deb, in fact I'm sending her the email addresses now, and she'll help sort this out.

I wish Marshall would seek help, but with mental health issues the patient has to drive or the train never leaves the station. Stella makes excuses for him, the boys know he can't be relied upon to get things done outside of his comfort zone . . . I am quite aware that nothing I can do or say or not do or not say will have any impact on Marshall. He's a sweet man inside, he loves Torah, he loves me and all his kids, but something's not right. I'm sure he'll be less than thrilled when he sees this post, but Honey, You Need Help.

All I really want to do at this point is take care of my kids, exercise and do yoga, and write. My sister is my safety net, we will not go hungry, but dammit, I should be able to support my family, and now this.

Today let's pray for strength.

Here's more info

Today two things happened which will drive some changes in my schedule.

First, the results of the CT scan scheduled for Friday will NOT be given to me on Friday, as the doctor had originally said. According to his nurse, he will not be able to see or hear any report for at least 5 days, and then it will be another 5 days until it is in the system.

Soooo, no head-shaving party on Sunday, 11/13.

In addition, Dr. Russin has ordered another scan, a cardiac scan, which will be done this Friday 11/11, at 11 am. That's got some holiday significance I think. Whatever.

I picked up a load of stuff at the pharmacy, including very expensive pills to take for nausea, but they were never able to locate the syringes my doctor ordered so I could inject myself between infusions. So after 2 trips to the pharmacy and a total of 40 minutes waiting I don't have all my stuff.

The whole day has been like that, late and screwed up and all that, but there were two things that got my attention:

The receptionist in the Nuclear Medicine Dept. is Eva, and she is an absolute delight. She speaks with a clear accent, but when I couldn't place it I asked, and she told me she came to the US from Poland 5 years ago with not one word of English. She's so kind and helpful, and so generally adorable, I just had to mention her. I'm sure her upbeat attitude makes it much easier for sick patients to deal with all the testing.

And then there was a screamer. Poor thing, 14 years old and completely unglued at the prospect of an injection, they actually had to restrain her to do it, and she was screaming bloody murder the whole time, in a room behind where I was sitting getting MY injection. I was struck by how her mother, who seemed like a nice person, did not comfort her at all while she was hysterical. The mother kept saying 'just pull yourself together,' and 'do you want your friends to know you did this?' It took all my self control not to offer a hug or be a butt-in-ski.

I wonder how Dr. Russin expects chemo to begin next week if we don't know what we're dealing with. I feel overwhelmed because my life is completely out of my control, and I can't make any plans at all, not even from day to day.

On the other hand, today I bought word stones with 'faith' and 'friends,' plus a new pouch, a hug, a kiss and a heart. And a chain to wear around my neck to hold the pouch at just the right position for me to be able to manipulate it easily.

The volunteer list is in process. No hurry at this point. Keep praying.

Bone scan - negative (that's the good choice)

And I'm so exhausted and I still need to go vote, so forgive me, I promise I'll write more soon.

The sound of raindrops during yoga

There is nothing than can beat yoga for relaxation. I found my yoga teacher on the internet with a basic search, tried the class in January of this year, and have been hooked ever since. Ellen teaches yoga to mostly women 'of a certain age' in a grand studio built decades ago for a neighborhood ballet school. It sits directly in front of the house of the owner of the property. There are barres of both heights, a huge mirror on one long wall, incredible woodwork everywhere, ancient light fixtures, a tiny bathroom and even smaller kitchen off to one side.

As we filter into the room, shedding our shoes and outerwear along the way, schlepping (carrying) our mat, block, strap and blanket to our favorite spots, we all smile broadly at one another and catch up on each other's lives for a minute or two.

Ellen has a certain elegance about her, and it's my opinion that her gentle spirit drives the mood in the class - it's one of inclusiveness, support, understanding and comfort.

Certain yoga positions are maintained for a minute, quite a long time when your head is hanging low and your calf muscles are stretched for all they're worth. During those long moments the room is absolutely silent save for Ellen's soft voice reminding us how to position our bodies for maximum effect.

But tonight there was another sound - rain pouring down right outside the many windows. And as I moved my torso, legs and arms this way and that I listened carefully. I could almost hear the sound of giggling little girls dancing through the room without a care in the world.

Trying hard to be brave

After my recuperative weekend I find myself back in the position of having a tenuous hold on my courage. I will be calling Dr. Russin, the oncologist, today to ask if I can hear about the results of the bone scan after it's done on Tuesday. Either way.

The pewter word stone (the gal in the store told me what to call them when I bought some more) with the word patience has been gripped inside my sweaty hand all weekend. Having it to hold, literally, helps me to concentrate on that virtue. I ran into Yoel, a former boss and dear friend, who reminded me that he'd been trying to sell me on the concept of the power of single words for a long time, and he was thrilled I'd found my way to having these words in my possession and for my use.

Sunday night we went into San Francisco to Beth Sholom, our 'other' congregation, the one where we met, married, and sat in Row F on the right side of the sanctuary for so many years. At the new rabbi's installation I saw so many old friends, wonderful folks who stood in line to talk to me, hug me, offer kind words and provide what comfort they could. There's a special element to their warmth for me - maybe it's because I've known them for so long, or because they watched our courtship, my pregnant bellies and my adorable kids for years. And when each one of them said, 'You look great!' I said, 'I feel great!' because I honestly do. I'm as strong and healthy as I've ever been as an adult. A formidable woman in every sense of the word.

The best thing I heard this weekend, and from quite a number of people, are the words 'I read your blog every day,' because this reminds me of why I'm posting. I want people who care about me to be able to stay up to date.

Early this morning I had a conversation with my mother in South Florida who provided me with important family medical history - two of her first cousins had breast cancer in their forties. Another cousin who is still alive and with whom Mom has contact will be able to provide more thorough information, I hope.

Oh, and I read in the J, our local Jewish press, that even if I test negative for the gene, my sister may well test positive. And the other way around. I can't pass it along to my children if I don't have the gene, and also my brother David, whose daughter Heather is a young adult, might consider being tested. Now that they have such a close family member with breast cancer.

Oy, I must stop, this is depressing. I'm going down the street to get hot tea and something delicious, and I'll be inhaling the sweet smell of damp Mill Valley morning with mindfulness, aware of all that God has made for me to embrace.

great weekend

and I'm still going, I've been out of the house and busy continuously since 11:30. It's been wonderful, seeing old friends and collecting hugs.

I promise to write something more informative on Monday.

Everyone's prayers and kindnesses fill me with an indescribable feeling of comfort.

The best Saturday

Today has been wonderful. I'll try to keep my eyes open for a little while so I can write, but it's late so no guarantees.

We all slept in today, I was the first one up at 8:20. We got ourselves together and out the door by 10:10, we walked over to shul (synagogue) and the service was over a little early. We had a nice nosh, then headed over to Edward and Ginna's house for lunch.

There's something about Ginna, I don't know exactly how to put it - she exudes serenity. When I am with her it rubs off on me, and it did that in spades today. Her food is extraordinary, their son Isaac is completely adorable, and I felt comforted and nurtured. We just sat and talked and ate (and ate and ate), I was sorry to leave.

That serene feeling continued -- we snoozed for a couple of hours (and the kids left us alone - hurray!) with windows wide open, sun streaming in, a cool breeze. It was simply delicious.

As the sun started to set we put ourselves together to go to the concert I won tickets for - Ornette Coleman, a legendary iconoclastic sax man. I heard music that I never even imagined before, it was awesome.

While people poured out of the Masonic Hall on Nob Hill behind us, we decided to call our friends Deb and Jim, and we met them for a bite to eat. Deb has agreed to be my volunteer coordinator, and I am about to provide her with names and email addresses for everyone who has offered to help us. She will be in touch with you if you have offered.

Deep sigh. There was so much support and kindness toward me today, so many prayers said in so many places . . . I'm overwhelmed in every good way

What a week!

Lots to digest . . . more people know now, prayers coming from all over.

Last night Heshy told me he will take me up on the offer of signing him up for a therapy group for kids who have a parent with cancer. He mentioned several reasons, the most important to him being that he will be with other children in the same situation. Research on that will be delegated shortly.

Here's what's coming up for me:

On Tuesday, 11/8, I will be having a bone scan. Some substance will be injected into my body at 9:30, then at about 12:30 the scan will be done. Neska will be with me for that scan.

Later that same day, at 3:30, I will be meeting with a genetic counselor to discuss the BRCA1 and BRCA2 tests, I've referred to these as the genetic marker test. After that meeting I will have the blood drawn and then we'll wait about a month for results.

Friday, 11/11, at 3:30 will be the CT scan, and after that I will hear from Dr. Russin, my oncologist, about the results of the scans.

If I am having chemo it will begin the week of 11/14, preceded by the head shaving party at 7pm on Sunday, 11/13 at our house.

On Wednesday, 11/16 at 8:30 a clip of some sort will be inserted into my bad breast.

On Thursday, 11/17, I will be having a radiation consultation at the East Bay Regional Cancer Center in Hayward at 2 pm. Even though the radiation won't happen until after chemo AND after surgery, the consult has to be now.

Living with a chronic illness

That's what I'll be doing if the scan reports are positive. As I've told Heshy, everyone you've ever met, and everyone you'll ever meet for the rest of your life, with no exceptions, will die. There is no way to know when or how, no guarantees, so grab hold of life and have a great time, be fully present every day.

Isn't there a new state-of-the-art stem cell place here?

My friend Dan, an internist in private practice in Alameda, has been following the progress of my case and had these comforting ideas to offer - since I am in great health, both physically and mentally, I may well qualify for stem cell treatment which is making huge strides in rates of remission for metastatic breast cancer patients.

Here's my plan - I will receive the news about the scans late Friday 11/11, and, if the scans are negative, I will have a Shave-Judith's-Head party on Sunday, 11/13, let's say at 7 pm. Today I met a new hairdresser - I treated myself to a wash and style - and she has offered to come do the final clipping and shaving for free. Nice woman.

I'll make some manner of ponytail for Heshy, then anyone who wants to can clip off some of my hair. When all those bits are off, Victoria will finish the job.

Listen, there will be NO pity party that day. Chemo is totally manageable as far as I'm concerned. If I have to lose my hair then let's have fun with it.

Check the blog (don't call, please don't call) to see if the party's on or off. Also, if you have asked to help then your contact info will be in the hands of the volunteer coordinator. Food for that event will be organized through her. You will be contacted, I promise.

A chance I won't lose my hair

But it won't be good news. After the second scan scheduled for next Friday, the 11th, Dr. Russin will be able to see and interpret the scan immediately, and he'll call me to tell me the results.

Bottom line - if either scan is positive then (his words) 'we will leave the curative approach.' When Neska asked him later if that meant there would be no possibility of a cure, he said yes, that's what he meant.

Of course, however, there would certainly be arduous treatment.

I'm officially hysterical. Perfect timing, however, since I'm meeting my therapist in 30 min.

Pray hard. I am.

Strength, courage, healing and hope

All the changes and plans and appointments and tests are exhausting, a lot to take in all at once.

Two things happened today which were timely and wonderful. As I was leaving my Mill Valley office at 11 I decided to go into a charming gift store a few doors down and buy myself a treat. Much to my delight, I found all sorts of chotchkes (knick knacks) that interested me. Soft and gorgeous scarves, a fascinating array of clocks, high-end silver jewelry (remember, we're still in Mill Valley), and everything was so expensive. Just a little something . . . and then I happened on a small box with metal disks - clearly meant as an impulse purchase, right by the register

Each disk had its own unique shape, sorta round, sorta flat, and each disk had an inspirational word on it. I chose 'strength,' 'courage,' 'healing' and 'hope.' As I was arranging to pay for these small trinkets I asked the clerk (maybe she was the owner?) if she had a small fabric bag I could also get. Explaining that I'd just been diagnosed, I will get a little hysterical at times and need to have small things I can manipulate - and I need something to carry them in. Not only did she find a small drawstring bag for me, after I'd paid for my purchase she picked up another small disk from the display and put it in the bag as well. It's got an angel in relief on it.

Now I have 5 small disks to manipulate and use for visualizations. Already I have held them and concentrated on their words and images - it was a good thing.

The number 5 in the Jewish tradition is significant - there are 5 books in our Torah, our bible.

Later on, after dinner, I set up my ironing board for my usual Wednesday evening ironing session. I had the window open, a pile of wrinkled clothing and the radio in my room set to 102.9, KBLX. Heshy came and hung out with me awhile (he likes to watch me iron), and then he went into the shower. Just as he was turning on the water I heard a call-in contest being announced on the radio, so I called in.

(I have a history of winning a lot of stuff on the radio - the most recent prize being Neil Diamond tickets which I promptly gave away.)

I got through once and was not the winning caller, so I called right back. When the DJ answered the phone herself I knew I'd won. And this time there would be no giving away of tickets - I won two tickets to a performance of the San Francisco Jazz Festival at Masonic Hall in San Francisco on Saturday night, 11/5, and forgive me I can't remember the name of the performer, all I know is that he's famous for his jazz sax. Marshall is delighted, and, God willing, I will be well enough to go.

Lots of positive thoughts.

My friend Neska will be taking me to my appointment with the oncologist tomorrow. I'll know more after that. Scared . . .

A few more details

When I asked about thermography, Veronica shrugged and replied that any money that might have been spent on that would be better spent on massages. According to her, thermography is not a valid diagnostic tool.

If the genetic marker test is negative, then I will likely have one breast removed anyway, since the cancer has clearly already spread.

On the way to work this morning it suddenly dawned on me that I am about to have disfiguring surgery. It's hard to write that, I always took my body for granted - smooth skin, nice breasts, all of that.

My mission in life has always been (as my kids will tell you) to acknowledge that every person on the planet is made in the image of God. B'tzelem Elohim in Hebrew. And that each of us deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. I never imagined that I'd have to use that concept when I look in the mirror -- because I always expected to simply watch the body I was given age slowly, as it should. I must find a new way to see myself, and rely on my ability to see what's within as the essential spark of the Divine.

Attitude is everything

Some days feel like much longer than the usual 24 hours. Today was one of those days, and it's not even over yet!

Early this morning Rachel Whalen, the Breast Care Coordinator at Kaiser in Oakland, called me to say that Kelly O'Neal had to operate today and all her appointments were being rescheduled. I asked Rachel if I could see someone else just to get the complete biopsy results, but she did even better - I met Veronica Shim (not Dr. Shim: although she is a well-trained surgeon specializing in breast cancer, she prefers to be addressed as Veronica) this morning instead.

Veronica is very nice, extremely aggressive and I like her a lot, so I'll stay with her. She told me that I have Stage III ductal carcinoma. The lump under my arm had cells drawn from it, and we were informed 20 minutes later that it was also positive for cancer. No need to do a sentinal node biopsy now.

Here's the plan as it stands today, but this could change based on further test results: I will be scheduled for a CT scan and a bone scan (which cannot be done on the same day), blood work was done today, and I will be seen by a genetic counselor who will review my chart and decide if I should be tested for the genetic marker for breast cancer. Veronica felt certain I'd be accepted for this test at Kaiser, but if not I will find out anyway, I'll just have to pay for it.

The genetic test results take a month to find out - now that's gonna be the longest month in history for me. The results will drive the surgery - if I am positive for the marker then both breasts as well as both ovaries will be removed. Why? Because statistically there's a significant risk of cancer recurring in the opposite breast and ovaries. I am a candidate for the following reasons: I am 100% Ashkenazi Jew, I am under 50 with breast cancer, and the estrogen/progesterone receptor test and her2neu test were both negative. I can choose reconstructive surgery to happen at the same time, and I'm headed in that direction, I think.

Obviously the genetic marker positive result will also drive testing for my sister, Sheila, and for other close relatives.

OK, so because the genetic test results take a month, chemo will be started asap. I have a 10 am appointment with Dr. Michael Russin, an oncologist in Walnut Creek, on Thursday 11/3, and at that time I'll find out more about my chemo. Rachel said I should expect my hair to fall out, so if Dr. Russin agrees with that I'll be shaving my head very soon.

Ooh, I don't like to think about no hair. My hair has been such a big thing for me all my life. I know it will grow back . . . but damn, no hair doesn't look good on any average-looking woman. I understand that how I look has nothing to do with anything, but . . .

Chemo will take about 4 months I think, and then the decision about the surgery will have been made and we will proceed with that.

The CT scan and bone scan results might be scary, but I'm prepared.

Look, this is how I think about it: It may be an unpleasant year, and that's putting it mildly, but I will survive. Me and Gloria Gaynor - remember that song?

I am not asking about statistics, I don't want to know them so you won't see any statistics here. I am one strong broad, dammit, and cancer should be scared.

I may be able to continue working through the chemo, but Rachel said everyone's reaction to chemo is different, there's no way to know ahead of time, and not to make long-range plans about work until I've got more info.

I am also seeing Kathy Weston, the therapist who works with breast cancer patients, on Thursday afternoon. She and I will discuss therapy options for me and for my boys.

Sometimes I feel like there's a barrier between me and the world, that I can't see my surroundings at all, I'm too self-absorbed to notice. And at other times I'm hyper-aware. I am trying very hard to stay fully present when I'm with Avi and Heshy, to see their confusion, worry and pain. I am delighted to report that they seem to be taking it in stride. Pray that their strength, as well as mine, continues.

Bring on the hats and scarves, ladies. Only the ones that can cover my whole head where the hair will soon be gone. Trippy, I must take pictures.