Help! I've got this little problem!!!!!

A couple of nights ago some jolly guy in a fat suit showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Said he was doing a test run and need a place to crash for a couple of nights. Problem is he doesn't fit through my doorway, so we ended up greasing him up and letting him slide down my chimney. He's got eight reindeer who are generating a bunch of poop in my yard. On top of it all he's got this sleigh, has had to double park and all my nosey neighbors are wondering who the new man in my life is.

One of the reindeer, I think his name is Rudolph, won't stay off my furniture. He's also keeping me awake at night with his bad nose job. Whomever did his face lift forgot to remove the laser beam from his nose.

And if their intrusion isn't enough, he's invited all these midgets over to my house for Thanksgiving. They are getting into everything and keep hammering, it's giving me a headache.

So if any of you wonder if I have a sense of humor, I guess I do. Pass the stuffing and rolls please.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone I hope I made some of you laugh (and yes, I did write the above).

I Love You I Hate You

That's how I've felt about forums for a long time. I never wanted one on Bluelips, but Karen my business partner said it was something we should offer.

I still am not big on forums, but I do thank Karen for her saavy as it has been successful and it's got some interesting characters there. I do hate it when it does down, but it now appears that they've worked out the bugs and other than some enhancements we are waiting for it's very stable.

I've posted a link to the forum so you can sign up. Just look at our links section. It's free, we don't charge for air, forum participation or laughter at Bluelips.

Remembering Shanta Barber

Every now and then someone waltzes into your life when you least expect it and even though you may not have much time with them you bond. Shanta sought me out from a breast cancer support list we were both on. She had many questions about death and dying and sought me out for answers. In the process we became good friends. We only saw each other in person once and that was to go for tempura for lunch. Shanta picked me up in her husbands BMW and I was in love (with the car mostly). Shanta was able to out eat me 2 to 1 that day. We had to laugh because we were both undergoing treatment and yet we were ravenous. The food was amazing. That day I decided to give her a special ring tone on my cell phone. I played it for her and she really loved it. I could never get rid of it so I have now assigned it to her husband, Dennis. Shanta went with me for wound care and met my oncologist. I had hoped she would entrust her care to my oncologist, but she kept looking for the perfect doctor and by that time it was too late.

Shanta and I shared many thoughts through emails and I called her often to see how she was doing. We had originally planned to do tempura once a month, but she became more ill. I now wish I had done take out and gone to see her. I've never quite known what to say to someone who is dying.

As Shanta and I hung out that day she decided to teach me how to be Afro American. She knew I was interested in learning everything about cultures and the differences in people. Shanta had me put my hands in the air and she told me to "raise the roof". I kept pushing on the roof of her BMW and she was laughing hysterically. She finally showed me how to "raise the roof" and told me that I was going to take a lot of work. She endeared herself to me forever for being color blind and for allowing me to be silly with her.

Shanta also raised my awareness of the magnitude of breast cancer in Afro American women and the increase in death rates.

At Shanta's funeral I placed my survivor button in her casket. She always told me that she learned a great deal from me, but in the end she really ended up to be my greatest teacher.

She fought the good fight, she stayed the course and she kept the faith.

Thumbs Up Beamer!

Outside My Box....My First Trip To Europe (Amsterdam)

I've never ventured beyond US borders much except to go to Tijuana, Mexico. The process of getting my passport and planning for my travel was exhilarating and tiring. I was well prepared for anything they might throw at me. Not bad for a gal who is 53 and has wanted to see something other than Texas Stadium.

I was bumped up to First Class for my flight to London which thrilled me. There is nothing quite like having long legs and not knowing what to do with them. Fortunately United offers 5 extra inches in coach for some of its seats. I call it "Legs Plus". As I am not flying daily anymore it's always a treat to be bumped up.

Heathrow was a bit of a nightmare, the moving walkways did not move, the smoking section might have well not existed because smoke was everywhere. Getting from the arrival gate to my connecting flight was frustrating at best. Heathrow is huge, I thought O'Hare was huge, but Heathrow is much bigger. The one thing that I did love were the hats the flight attendants wore on British Midland.

When I arrived at Schipol airport it was somewhat confusing for me trying to figure out how to meet up with my friend. I just kept walking and hoping I was going in the right direction. I eventually saw the passport booths they have and handed them my virgin passport. They didn't stamp it, I was heart broken. Going home though the young man who had looked at my passport when I arrived smiled at me, stamped my passport so I was no longer a virigin. He saw how happy that made me and I did my happy dance.

I had a wonderful time in Amsterdam. The women I met there are all survivors of breast cancer and I had a very productive week. I won't bore you with all the details, but I will say that I would love to go back. Once I learned what coffee houses really were for, why I was called "klootzak" by an angry woman, and got lost in the Red Light District I thought I'd found paradise.

And when I landed at Dulles and had to go through customs the drug dog peed on one of my bags. Ah, there is no place like home!

Giancarlo Francesco Colombo

One Year In The Light

May 30, 2006

Music means different things to different people. Some of us find our music in a wave upon sand and the sea on the shore. For others it is in the clear sound of the lark or in the beating of drums or perhaps in the tapping of feet in the flamenco. Different sounds appeal to each of us in different ways. Giancarlo and I shared a love of jazz. I never knew Giancarlo, but I’ve had the privilege this past year of learning about him from his mother and his friends.

Perhaps that is why musicians are so popular. Maybe it’s because they play on our hearts' chords as they play on their instruments.

So it was with Giancarlo. His music called each one of us in a different way. Giancarlo was a sensitive musician. He loved his own kind of music of course, but he had a respect and admiration of all other kinds as well. He enjoyed nothing more than an informal session with fellow artists, playing simply for the kick they got out of their songs and tunes. He loved to improvise to play something in a new chord, a different key. Giancarlo spent his whole life, it seems, looking for that famous lost chord.

Giancarlo leaves a legacy of joy in the music he shared with others, of long chats with friends, of his insight into the world around him. He was a deep soul, a passionate person, for him perfection was the goal in life. What life had yet to teach him was that none of us are perfect.

Giancarlo was lively and light-hearted. He was always happy to meet new people, add something new to his life. Yet he had his quiet moments when he withdrew into himself and into the music he loved so much. He was a feeler, all of the great creative masters had deep feelings. He was among the best.

Giancarlo has traveled many hearts. He has touched so many lives even in his passing that he will never truly be gone.

There is a saying that says “music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life”. So it was with Giancarlo’s music. His passion became our passion, his joy our joy and even his pain is now our pain.

Giancarlo, though, was also a person who had other attributes that had nothing to do with music. He was kind and generous and he enjoyed a laugh. He was always willing to do you a good turn. He had a genuine interest in people and what they did with their lives. It didn't really matter to him whether they knew a b flat from a c sharp. He was good with children and loved making a difference in the lives of others. Giancarlo always believed that if you were lucky enough to have a gift you should share it.

Yes, the loss of Giancarlo has affected us deeply, even I am moved by this young man and inspired to create a better world for others. Many years ago, when I was a young woman, I also, demanded a lot from myself. Life seemed to come at me and I sometimes felt at a loss with my feelings. I wasn’t sure which direction I should go in. I’m grateful that someone reached out to me and showed me that there was light beyond the darkness. I wish I could have done that for Giancarlo.

He’s no longer with us physically, but he’s in every balloon you send off, every tear you shed, every laugh you share and every hug you give.

And when you look up at the sky at night he’s standing out from all the rest, he’s the guiding light home, he is lighting the path we all should follow.

We love you, Giancarlo. Thank you for all the lessons you’ve taught us.

Whattsa Matta U?

Some people think that all cancer patients are going to look like holocaust victims, gaunt and lifeless. Some of us are quite lively given our situation.

I have good days and bad. Zometa treatment I think is making me toxic.

Nothing quite like feeling like you are being turned into a Nuclear Waste Dump.

I'd be happy if cancer=smaller butt.

Breast implants aren't all they are hyped up to be. In December I had surgery to remove mine because they had become encapsulated with scar tissue. They were replaced, even though I had and still have reservations about replacing them.

Then the problems set in.

My left incision opened up about 8 inches. I felt like I was looking at the Grand Canyon. I could swear you could yodel in there and it would echo back. Really weird to see your chest open up.

It subsequently opened up a total of three times, after my plastic surgeon tried to close me up. He said it was because I had radiation on the left side. But my question to him was "then how come the first time you did this I didn't have any problems" and he commented he must have been lucky.

The wound was too big for me to manage and too gross. I couldn't even reach it. I requested wound care. Almost felt like I had to fight for it. Finally I got to go to wound care nearest my house. Nice folks, caring too. It took us two months to get this to close up.

And even then I ended up with a stap infection in the wound.


So ladies please really think about whether or not breast implants are worth it. I realize some of you reading this will be thinking "we'll I'm just doing it to have bigger breasts". please do your homework. These things are not fun to deal with when there are problems.

I'm hoping at some point I can just have them removed, be flat chested and then I can head to the nearest tatoo parlor, get something raunchy tatooed on my chest or maybe I can auction my bare chest off as an advertising billboard on Ebay!

I am a Starbucks junkie. Venti hot chocolate, extra hot,whip, hold the drizzle. Not exactly the kind of nourishment a cancer patient should probably be taking in, but I look at it this way. "What have I got to lose?"

The great thing about Starbucks is that they have T Mobile Hot Spot service there. I only have dial up at home and we aren't even able to get DSL at my house. With my laptop being wireless it's so nice to be able to go and enjoy a beverage, a munchie and do what I need to do at lightning speed.

I've been bugging T Mobile to come up with wireless for homes. They say they are working on something. Stay tuned. I'll be one of the first ones to get it if I am still here.

I guess I shouldn't save if, think positive. I will be here.

My illness isn't cureable, but I've survived longer than most people thought I would and the great thing is I've had time to become laptop proficient.

I don't know if anyone else has ever experienced this with a doctor, so I am just going to speak my peace.

Some doctors are really into the white coat and the title, some are healers and could care less about the money or the title.

Unfortunately I've met too many of the first kind and few of the second kind.

Where is Patch Adams when I need him? Where is a doctor who will listen to me, treat me as an intelligent being and be my partner? Why do they treat us like uneducated buffoons? I'm tired of being treated as if they know my body better than they do.

Doctors are not Gods, though they seem to like to think they are. I think patients ought to revolt and ask questions more often. Let's not let them intimidate us into submission. We have a right to answers. We have a right to being informed and understanding how a procedure or treatment can affect us. But some people feel doctors should be trusted. I don't. It's not that I hate doctors, it's that I want to be treated with respect. I want them to acknowledge that even though I may not have an M.D. by my name I am still a viable life.

And in some cases that M.D. might not mean Medical Doctor, I've met a few who seem Mentally Deficient, Mostly Drunk or Mostly Doped. And then there are the ones with the bed side manner of a pirana, we'll call them Mad Dogs instead of M.D.

And whatever became of choices? Why can't I have options for treatment? Why am I treated like the one kind fits all treatment is the only one for me?

Lots of questions, no answers yet. I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore.

This past year has been intense.

In May of 2005 I was injured in a motorcycle accident. Kids playing basketball in the street caused my bike to flip. My face was pretty torn up and I was full of road burn. I've hired an attorney to go after the homeowner's insurance of the parent's. These folks have never even said they were sorry I got hurt. I have a scar right on my eyebone of my right eye. I don't typically have accidents I'm a very cautious motorcyclist.

Also in May I was told about a young man, a Stanford student, who committed suicide by Caltrain. I was very touch by his story, he was incredibly gifted and I put together a memorial website for him. I did not know him. I know this sounds weird, but it's very healing to help someone you don't know esp when you are dealing with your own major illness. I witnessed a Caltrain suicide years ago and it changes you. I just hope it really helps people to remember him in the way he lived, not in how he died. I just wish I could have played a duet with him (he was a gifted jazz pianist named Giancarlo Colombo), discussed his philosophies about life or just been a shoulder for him to lean on. It's so devastating to hear that he went for help several times and no one at the mental health clinic on campus really heard him. I've battled depression in my past and I can honestly say I've walked in Giancarlo's shoes. He never knew that this was a temporary problem, one that could be fixed. Many depressed people think that way. I hope he's tickling the ivories in heaven, everything I've heard about him tells me what a wonderful person he was. I also was able to hide my sadness, no one ever knew. I don't know if the dead can read blogs, but Giancarlo if you can read this please know that you touched a lot of lives and you continue to do so even now. Rest In Peace, Giancarlo.

OK I've not blogged in ages here, but it's quite disheatening to come back and find crap comments in this blog.

As I have been away for some time there is so much to say, but first I want to say that I really have been out of the loop on blog maintenance. I'd love it if people would leave comments that mean something, maybe in some way my writing about my cancer experience is helping you, or
that you can relate to what I am going through.

But please don't fill up my blog with comments for college degrees (which are unaccredited, thus phony) and anything unrelated to what this blog is for. I've discovered how to delete these posts and the great thing about this blogger is you can now block spam so I've turned it on.

I'll be updating you on my life over the next few days and apologize for not doing a better blogging job. My life has been complicated. Cancer is never easy, but even without the cancer
issue my plate has been full.

Thanks for reading, it's good to find this blog again.