Archive for March, 2011
See that? That’s me and that’s Seamus and that’s a shirt you can have. Okay, wait, not that exact shirt…I’m keeping that one (also, you cannot have my wine…I get so few glasses of it these days). But the good folks at Save Second Base sent me some shirts to give away on the blog! Cool, huh? Yeah, Seamus and I thought so too (which is why he agreed to semi-pose for the picture–note the attitude he’s copping though). It’s especially cool since Save 2nd Base has donated over $30,000 to breast cancer organizations in the few years it’s been in existence. You can read more about them and the work they are doing (and why) at the Save 2nd Base website.
I have a hot pink shirt (like the one I’m wearing) in size L and another in P (which I can only assume means petite…I’ve never in my life been such at thing and this could in fact be the first time I’ve touched an article of clothing in size P). And I have a green one (with hot pink writing) in size M. So who wants one? I realize you can’t read the shirt, but I’m hoping you are not surprised to learn that the green writing says “Save 2nd Base.” I’m giving all 3 shirts away in a drawing.
Once again, we’re going to let Seamus decide. Enter the Seamus-shirt-arama contest by leaving a comment below–tell me whose breast cancer battle you are honoring (hey, it can be really easy…you can just say me!). Seamus is looking forward to selecting more
Other acceptable comments include…how’s my hair looking? March 13th was the 2 year anniversary of shaving my head post-chemo. It’s easy to remember because it was a Friday the 13th. That picture was taken on March 15th (a few days ago). But that’s not quite 2 years of hair growth, because of course the hair doesn’t start growing ’til the chemo stops. So that’s about 1 year and 10 months or so of growth. I have to say…the color is bugging me. I may have to go back to blond. I see my stylist on Saturday.
Unacceptable comments are “how’s the book proposal coming?” “Is the memoir done yet?” “Has the book sold yet?” or … “Anybody can write a book!” See where I’m going with this? Right. Crazy. The book proposal is back to my agent. I’m really, really, really hoping it’s now “good to go” or at least only in the “minor edits needed” stage. Really. So much hoping that. I know you are too.
Comments between now and 5pm PST on March 30th are entered for a shirt!
That’s not Seamus. That’s Cosby…and he needs a home.
I’m participating in Petfinder.com’s adopt the internet day–March 15th. Seamus is an adopted dog–shocking, I know, since we look so much alike. I have volunteered with our local pet adoption agency for over twenty years now. Finding homes for these wonderful animals is definitely a passion of mine. So, in honor of Seamus, and for Cosby and the many like him, today I remind you—
More than 320,000 pets are waiting for homes on Petfinder.com. Help Petfinder Adopt the Internet today and find forever homes for as many as possible!
So, yeah. I gave up.
I gave up hoping that somehow magically, just as it seems it magically appeared, this coat o’ fat I’ve been wearing would disappear. It seems intent on staying.
And you may recall that my dear oncologist looked me straight in the eye, post “I have these lingering chemo side-effects” whining, and said “I’m willing to bet all of those would go away if you lost some weight.”
The common sense.
So yes. I’ve acknowledged that the thirty pounds I’ve gained since Chris and I have been together may in fact be related to our lifestyle and not chemo (yes, you read that right…30. 3-0. O.M.G. But, um, for the record, Chris and I have been together almost 7 years…but I digress….). While chemo may have caused my metabolism to come to a screaming halt, it’s likely it was only moving at a very leisurely pace previously. In fact, I think my metabolism was stopping to smell a lot of flowers along the way.
Time for a change. I’ve consulted with a dietitian/ nutritionist and…and…and….hired a personal trainer. (Raise your hand if you’re shocked. Right…I’m now typing with one hand myself.)
Here’s what I learned from the nutritionist that seems to be helping me a lot:
1) I think about what I can eat, not what I can’t eat. This has been the most helpful bit of advice, since I’m not good at denying myself. So if I’m at a restaurant, I go right to the “lite” menu and pick something. I do not look at the things I cannot have (and I try to ignore the server when the specials are explained). When I make a meal for myself or go grocery shopping, I do the same thing. It’s worked much, much better for me!
2) I’m eating more fiber. In fact I’m eating a ton of fruits and vegetables (aided greatly by the fact that a client dropped off 2 big boxes of the most delicious oranges!) and my snacks are fiber bars. I have yet to feel hungry, which makes the below goal much easier…
3) I’m trying to stay at or under 1,500 calories a day. That used to be a meal for me. But, 1 and 2 above make that not too difficult. Now as for difficult….
4) I’m limiting my alcohol. This has proven to be the most difficult. Not so bad when I’m just at home (but I do miss my glass…es…. of wine late at night, especially when I’m writing. Writing and wine go together in my mind…). It’s much harder when I’m at community events, parties, or, um…Chris’s Sunday Night Chef Fights!
So far though, I’ve lost 6 pounds, gained 2 back (I have no idea how that is, but it is…). It’s been 2 weeks. I didn’t even mention it before this because I wanted to make sure I was really doing it. And I am. The goal is to lose that 30 pounds. Yeah, I’m going to have to stick with this awhile. Maybe forever. (Can’t think about that now…baby steps!).
I’ll tell you about the trainer in the next post. My arms hurt to much to keep typing now….
“China sat in the rooms of our house like a question,” begins Conley in this luminous memoir of moving her family from Portland, Maine, to Beijing on the eve of the 2008 Olympics. Conley’s husband had accepted a dream job in Beijing, and they had decided to say “yes to all the unknowns that will now rain down on us” including common difficulties faced by many families moving to a new city: a new school for her two young sons, finding new friends, and adjusting to a new apartment all compounded by the intensity of learning a difficult new language and adapting to a new culture. Conley’s writing is at once spare and strong, and her description of having to present an unflappable front to her children while being hit “with a rolling wave of homesickness” pulls the reader into her world like a close friend. As Conley starts to hit her stride in her adopted city, she discovers lumps in her breast and finds herself on a different kind of journey, which she describes as “an essential aloneness that cancer has woven into my days.” She explains in this engaging memoir that after her treatment in the U.S. was over, she returned to Beijing, where she searched for the perfect Chinese talisman to “ward off the leftover cancer juju” and hoping to help her boys move past their own fears of their mother’s mortality.
Seamus’s surgery was moved up to today–doctor’s schedule, Chris’s schedule, my schedule, Seamus’s schedule all pointed to today as the best option.
The good news is that none of the bumps or lumps were cancerous. The bad news is he has stitches and “super glue” in various incision spots and apparently this is making it uncomfortable for him to lay down. I picked him up at 4:30, brought him home, fed him and then got him settled in bed (my bed, of course). Since then (a few hours now) he’s been trying to sleep sitting up. Then he falls asleep, falls or moves down and boom! he’s awake and sitting back up. I’ve been positioning pillows around him to get him some support so he can sleep and stay asleep. The photo is the particular set up that seems to work. He was asleep before I got off the bed to get the camera and is back asleep as I type this. I’m sure the pain medications helped. (I’m contemplating my own pain “medication” in a glass shortly…).
He’s supposed to be wearing a cone (Elizabethan collar, if you prefer) because he has stitches on a back leg, but so far, he’s not at all interested in the stitches. So I’m just going to let him rest, cone-less. It’s been hard enough for him to find a position to sleep in, without having a plastic conehead hindering him. It’s funny, he’s right where he slept when I was going through chemo and sleeping a lot, and he was keeping me company. So I think I’ll just keep him company now, too. That’s how we roll in our cancer (free!!) house.