I went to a dietitian this morning. I would flatly say that it was a total waste of time and energy, since she didn't say anything I didn’t already know, but at least she reminded me how important good nutrition is, and showed me a really cool cookbook that has recipes for people receiving chemo.

She was a very nice lady, so I feel bad that I was bored stiff during her "consultation". At some point she went on and on reading from a presentation she had prepared on how to prevent cancer, and I was this close to saying to her with a perfect British accent: "I already got one!" This is for all the Monty Python fans out there! ;-)

By the time I got back home my bones were aching so bad, I could scream. I was able to put Natalie in her room for a nap, took another Vicodin and rested too. In fact, I'm still in my bed resting. My energy level is below zero today. :-(

I feel bad that I can't get up and cook for everybody, but I just can't. We had to order out. Getting used to the idea that I can’t provide for my family the same way I used to is very tough for me, but there’s not a lot I can do about it right now.

I know that I have to find the energy to somehow keep things normal around here. I really don’t know how to do it, without feeling even more tired and weak. Any ideas?
Brian and I were both so depressed about this a couple of days ago. He is tired too, picking up the slack and doing the job for two. I know it’s so hard for him to see me this way, and do all the work he has been doing, and try to keep afloat with his responsibilities at work. It gets too much sometimes. I don’t know how we’re going to make it.

Tomorrow morning I’m going in for my second chemo treatment. I’ll see the oncologist and have a blood test too. I’m hoping my blood count will be better than last time, and that I’m going to be in better shape afterwards.

One thing that still worries me is our trip to Hawaii that we had planned months ago. It is scheduled for May 5th, but we still don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I guess the doctor will tell us tomorrow. We have been looking forward to it for so long! We really needed the time together and the opportunity to relax and rest. I hate how it has become just another “problem” on our list.

Well, I guess that’s it for now. I’ll have more to say after treatment tomorrow.

A not so Nice and Clean Shave

As if things weren’t bad enough already, today I decided to shave my head!

I had an appointment to get my new wig and have a last fitting. I knew that they were going to ask me if I wanted to do it or not, they had told me so last time, so at least I was prepared. However, up until the very last minute I wasn’t sure. But then when she took my scarf off and I saw the ugly bald spots and my thinning hair here and there, I decided to bite the bullet and go ahead and do it.

I’m not even sure if this is something I would like to share, but I promised to write the truth, so here it goes. This is the first time that I really wished not even Brian was in the room! It was just a bad experience. There are no other words to describe it. I felt so violated!

The girl that took care of me was very sweet and discreet; she even asked me if I wanted her to turn my chair around so that I wouldn’t be able to see her while shaving my head.
I said yes, but then I felt kind of stupid, because I knew that eventually I would have to face it. I kept asking Brian not to look at me and he was kind enough to try to look down at his Blackberry.

When the girl stepped out for a minute to bring my wig, I turned my chair and looked in the mirror. My heart just dropped. It felt as if I were looking at a picture of a prisoner at a Nazi concentration camp. Cancer stinks (Nazis too)! Brian tried to console me by telling me that even like this I still looked beautiful and he came over to hold me and kiss me. Isn’t he a sweetheart? Although I did appreciate the try, I could still see the result myself. It was horrible! There was a little fuzz left, but it looked absolutely ridiculous!

The girl soon returned with my wig and I put it on my head. I felt a little bit better. Less exposed, less vulnerable. It’s a whole new look for me and I must say that I prefer it that way. I know that some people like their wigs to match their old hair, but I wanted something completely different. I wanted to have a look so that if I saw someone I know in the street, they would think I just had a new cool haircut. I was afraid that just having a fake version of my own hair would be too obvious, but that’s just me.

I came home and wanted to go straight to my room. I just needed to take that wig off and scratch my itching scalp like crazy, but I was intercepted by the children. When the boys saw me wearing the wig they had mixed feelings about it. I looked too different they said, but they liked the style. Better than what’s underneath it, I thought. Natalie of course, loved it! That's my girl! I’ll try my best so that they never see me without hair. I'm thinking it would be too traumatic for them, as it was for me. I’m so happy that I ordered all those hats and scarves before hand! I even have a baseball cap with hair! Sweet!

Did I mention that it hurts when you lose your hair? Nobody prepared me for this, but it hurts like heck! Not the scalp, but the hair follicles, as the hair move. I think the shorter hair will help, until they’re gone too of course. The girl said it takes a couple of weeks for the pain to subside. When she washed my head, it hurt so bad, I had to try really hard not to scream. Ouch!

I wonder how it’s going to be tonight. They say that the scalp gets really cold, but fortunately I have a night cap! How sad is that? I'm hoping I'll get some rest, because I feel exhausted.

Last night I slept half of the night in a sleeping bag on the floor, by the fireplace. Natalie’s idea of a fun night! She loves to lay down by the fire! I woke up at about 3:00 am and went to my bed, and then I went back downstairs at around 7:30 am, before she realized I wasn't there the whole night. I knew that if she woke up and I wasn’t there, I’d be in big trouble for ruining it all for her!

Tonight I feel like reading before checking out, which is a good sign for me. Hopefully I’ll be able to relax and have a good night’s rest.

Cheers!

A Bad Day

I think it’s safe to assume that when I don’t post an entry on the blog it means that I’ve had a rough day.

Yesterday I woke up early and tried to keep myself busy. I drove the kids to school, but as I was driving back home I realized that I really didn’t want to go back. I kept driving until I found my self outside a Walmart, which I hate by the way, but the parking lot was almost empty, so I though I’d give it a shot. Less people, better chance of not going crazy in there, I thought.

I walked in and indeed, it was very quiet. I decided to head for their bead section, only to realize once again, that they have nothing but crap, excuse my French, and that it was a waste of time, as I had expected. I did get a few things for Natalie to paint and some stuff for Darian’s upcoming school project, so it wasn’t a total loss.

I also looked at their fabric department. I was almost tempted to buy some fabric, but then I realized I was only kidding myself. I’d never find the energy to do anything with it. If I did have the energy, I probably should start with all the other unfinished projects I have collecting dust in my closet.

I finally came back at around 9:00 am. Brian was still asleep with Natalie by his side. I tried to wake him up to go to work but he was so tired it took a while. He’s so stressed these days.

I don’t have much to say today, except that I have been gradually getting worse. It’s getting harder to keep my spirits up and keep up with my daily routine, but I still try.
I’ve had a lot of pain in my back and joints. Sometimes it is too much to bear. It annoys me that I have to depend on Vicodin, which makes me really dizzy, but it does take the edge off the pain. I guess it will have to do.

More than often I feel that I just want to be left alone. Yesterday I was in my room for the most part of the day. Denise, the girl we hired to help out around the house and help with the kids, took care of Natalie, while I was locked up in my room, trying to make some sense of this unpleasant situation, but there’s always one question lingering on my mind.

Why me? Haven’t I had enough bad things happen to me already? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wish for somebody else to have it instead of me, in fact I feel quite the opposite, but I could really use a break! I’m not one to whine about my life or misfortunes, but as I look back, things seem to have been exceptionally hard for me. Why? When do I get to have a moment of peace? No, don’t answer that. I already know the answer.

In the mean time, the stupid tumor has decreased in size so much, I would be tempted to believe in the miracle of chemotherapy, but I know better. How could something so toxic and poisonous actually be good for you?

Let’s face it, there’s no cure for cancer. The doctors have been just grasping at straws for decades, and the cancer industry keeps making more and more money selling poisons and fake reports about “relative benefits”, conveniently “forgetting” to mention the staggering failure that the absolute numbers reveal, while people die left and right. If shutting down our immune system, our one and only natural defense to diseases, is the way to “treat” cancer, then we’re in big trouble, wouldn’t you say?

The “victory” against cancer, as they present it, is to survive 5 years, before you have a recurrence! Well, the way I see it, if there’s a recurrence it means that all the stuff they pumped into your veins just slowed things down, but did not really treat anything. Cancer cells were lurking in your body the entire time, until something triggered them again. So how come they don’t concentrate on what triggers it in the first place, instead of amputating body parts? They treat the symptoms, not the disease. Period! Not to mention that their “success” is basically an increase of life span, but was this life span really worth living in the first place?

I think I better stop now. I whined, I got it out of my system, and that’s enough. Tomorrow will be a better day. Hopefully.

The List

OK, I admit it! Despite trying my best to be optimistic, yesterday was rough. I lost almost all my hair, so I couldn’t help feeling very depressed the entire day. Brian tried to cheer me up; it didn’t really work.

So I decided I had to have a nice pity party for myself and get it out of my system. I locked the door to my room, put my earphones in to listen to (sad) music, scanned the Internet for more (depressing) information about triple negative breast cancer and of course felt pretty miserable all day. I spent most of the day doing nothing other than literally pulling my hair out. I had a box right by me and every time a new fistful of hair came out, I deposited it in my “hair box”. Now it sits by my chair, labeled and everything, full of nice curly hair, that I’m sure a lot of bald people (including myself) would die to have on their heads.

In the end I got tired of feeling lousy, so I thought I should do something I enjoy. I tried making some more bracelets but after just staring at the beads for about half an hour without moving a finger, I decided I had to move on to trying something else. I didn’t feel like reading anything on my Kindle, so I decided to just lie on my bed. Maybe I could at least get some rest.

It was about 11:00pm when I decided to get up, and try my luck on my comfy recliner. I thought it'd be worth giving a try to that tape that “guides you to self healing” that they gave me at the wig shop, hoping it would at least relax me.

So here I was, almost falling asleep on my chair, listening to the instructions of a lady with a deep voice telling me to imagine “kind beings of light touching me with their healing hands” (for real), when Ozzie, our dog, jumped on me and started licking me.

I woke up and went to the bathroom to wash my hands and face. I looked at my self in the mirror. “Well, the hair didn’t grow back”, I thought, “So much for the alien healing hands!” I could still see the patches of lost hair here and there.

Strangely enough that one last look was enough to bring me back. My face looked clearer than I had seen it in a while. “Of course,” I remembered, “the oil glands are shutting down too. No T-Zone! Hey, not bad!”

I sort of giggled out loud and then the idea hit me. “I’ll make a list of all the things that might be good about having cancer!”

So here’s what I’ve come up with so far. I’m sure I’ll be updating it regularly.


1. No shaving legs, armpits, bikini lines etc! Now, that’s what I’m talking about!

2. No plucking eyebrows! Ouch!

3. No oil glands, means clear skin (it also means dry skin, but that’s why they have invented moisturizers, right?)

4. Perfect, salon like, hairstyle every single day with minimum amount of work! I love my wig!

5. Cool scarves and hats to match your clothes!

6. Tons of free stuff, like books, tapes, make-up kits, totes. I’m sure I’ll have more to add to this list after my Looking Good…Feeling Better seminar on Wednesday.

7. Nurses and doctors tend to be super nice to you because they feel really sorry for you! I know that one is pathetic, but it’s true! I literally had nurses begging me to let them bring me snacks and drinks, last time I was in the hospital.

8. Strangers are nice to you when they see you wearing your recognizable “cancer look” (scarves, wig etc.). I went out with Brian yesterday and this lady came out of nowhere and gave Brian 2 really neat pink bracelets with a ribbon charm for me. How cool is that?

9. You get to play the “I don’t feel so good” card whenever something is really boring or tiring and you want to get yourself out of doing it. Sneaky!

10. Your husband (provided you’re blessed with a good one) is willing to go out of his way to get you anything you crave for or do anything that will bring you comfort, even if it’s in the middle of the night. Thanks baby!

So this is my top 10 list so far. I’m sure I’ll be adding more to it soon.

Have a nice day! :-)

How to be a (bald) party pooper

I knew that some day I would have to face this, only I didn't expect it to be so soon.

Last night I was invited by my children to attend a music show they had prepared for me in our game room. I walked in the room and saw that indeed they had everything ready. The room was clean, the amp and microphone was ready, music playing in the background.

They gave me a few minutes to sit my tired bones on the recliner. A few seconds later Brian joined us too. Natalie hit play on Darian's mp3 player and notes from Kings and Queens by Aeorsmith filled the room. Natalie was "playing" the fake guitar the boys use to play Rockband, a video game that they all love to play, and David was keeping the rhythm by clapping his hands. Darian picked up the microphone and started singing. He did such a good job! Way to go Darian! We all loved it! It was so special!

I don't know why, but after they were done and we were all together for the first time in a while, all happy and relaxed I thought it might be a good opportunity to talk to them a little bit about what has been going on with me and what to expect next. I know...what was I thinking? What a party pooper!

I started explaining to them that I feel fine, how lucky I am that chemo didn't make me feel too sick the first time, but it might be a little harder as they give me more, and I explained to them some of the symptoms that I have now, like pain in my joints, fatigue, low blood count, shortness of breath etc.

I also wanted to prepare them about the upcoming surgery. I explained to them that chemo was Step 1, but there are more things I need to do afterwards. I tried to explain to them about how the surgery is done and what my choices are.

When I told them that I'll probably do the double mastectomy and not just a lumpectomy, Darian started to get visibly uncomfortable. He wanted to know the odds, and numbers.
I simply answered that I'm not sure and continued to go on, keeping in mind that maybe I'll have to tone things down a little bit, so that they don't begin to worry about me too much.

Brian gave me a look and said in Greek, "Don't you understand? He needs to hear it in numbers." I got it. Darian's ability to understand things is all revolved around numbers, statistics and odds." I quickly back tracked and said that Daddy would explain the odds of not having cancer again after completely removing the breasts in numbers, so you can understand. Brian was able to break it down in simple terms so that everybody understood that whatever my odds of a recurring breast cancer might be, they would be cut by 90% if I removed the breasts.

Then I made sure to explain to them that a plastic surgeon would reconstruct my chest and it would look the same, if not better! Mom would look exactly the same! Nobody will be able to tell that I had surgery and removed my breasts, because I'll have new ones!" I said excitedly.

For David the conclusion was easy. "I think you should do it" he said simply. Darian understood, but still looked uneasy. Natalie was jumping on the treadmill or climbing all over my chair humming songs to her self, so my guess is that she was the easiest to persuade.

I went on explaining them that after the surgery it's going to take me a little longer to recover. It's going to be a bit painful, I'll have a drain for a couple of weeks, I'll need a lot of rest and I won't be able to pick things up for a while, so we will all have to be patient until I get better.

I noticed Darian had started to rub his eyes. He was trying to hold back tears. I signaled Brian to go sit by him. Brian went and took him in his arms. We tried to explain to him that mom is fine and she'll be even better once she gets this cancer out of her, but he was inconsolable. He kept rubbing his face silently while tears were pouring out of his beautiful blue eyes.

I got up, sat right next to him and hugged him. I tried to calm to him and validate his feelings while I kept saying that I will be all right. "It's OK to be sad, it's OK to feel angry, it's OK to be scared. I feel the same way too. Can you tell me how you feel?" I asked.
"I can't, I can't!" were the only words that could come out of his mouth. By that time Brian and the rest of the kids left the room in order to give us some privacy. I asked them to get us some ice cream, and I was left alone with Darian, still holding him tight in my arms.

"Can you talk about it?" I asked. "No," he nodded. "Could you talk about it to someone else?" I insisted, thinking my therapist might be able to help him out. "If I can't tell you mom, than I doubt I could tell anyone else! I don't know what I'm feeling. I just don't know." I gave him another tight hug and told him to know that I love him, that I promise him everything will be fine, and not to forget that it's OK to have those feelings, even if he can't describe them yet."

Then the ice cream came and we all felt a lot better! :-)

I think this is the hardest part of this whole thing. When the kids get terrified and worried, and there's really no way to protect them from what's coming. I too have feelings that I can't describe from time to time. Despair, fear, anger. It's hard to put into words the frustration that cancer leaves you with. It isolates you. But when you see this whole mess touching your children's heart, then it's unbearable! I wish there was something I could do to take their fear and pain away.

But wait! The situation gets "hairier"! This morning I woke up and tons of my hair had started falling off. I decided to take a shower and use the new shampoo I bought from the wig place. Supposedly it helps get rid of the toxins from chemo and it helps sooth the scalp.

I was excited to try it. I let the water drip on my head and I felt the weight of my wet hair on my shoulders. When I lifted my arms to start massaging my scalp, alas, tons of my hair was left in my hands. Wherever I touched hair just fell out in bunches, but that's not all! In the mean time the falling hair had started getting tangled up with my remaining (still attached) hair and pretty soon I had a really whopper of a...tangled situation in my hands and head.

I stepped out of the shower almost trembling. I called Brian and showed him the tangled mess on my head. "What am I going to do? Do I need to shave my head?" I remember how the lady at the wig shop asked me if I wanted to, and I felt it was too soon and said "No." Now I had to face the fact that the time has probably come.

I tried anything I could get my hands on to make it better. Tons of conditioner, Infusium, hair oil, you name it I tried it. Nothing worked. Every now and then I would stop and try to comb it. I can't describe how much hair I lost by doing this! I would touch my hair and long stretchy tufts would just slide out, sometimes without even pulling. After I filled an entire sink full of hair I decided I had to admit my defeat and accept the realization that the only way was to cut it.
I told Brian I wanted to be alone, but he insisted he wanted to stay. Finally we agreed that he should do it, so we found some good scissors and he started cutting the bottom first, and then moved on to the tangled part, trying to save as much as he could. Good boy!

So now I have a shorter haircut that doesn't look half bad, thanks to Brian. He did a good job afterall! I also have a bunch of dead toxic hair sitting in my sink that I need to clean up, but not before I take some pictures! I've never seen so much hair in my life! I have to keep a record of this for posterity!

It's a good thing I already bought some scarves! I wore my favorite one with a straw hat I bought from the wig shop. Now I have to swallow the fact that I actually have to get out of the house like this. The kids have their Opening Day for their baseball season and I have to be there. I can already imagine all the people looking at me knowingly, with their "she has cancer" look.'

But it's time for me to go. So I'll take a deep breath, keep my fingers crossed and pray that I survive my first public appearance with my new "cancer look". I was able to fake it so far, but I'm afraid these days are over.

So, keep your (half bald) head held up high, and off you go for new adventures, cancer girl!

A Tribute to Tito (not the long gone Yugoslavian leader, silly)

My first paying job out of high school was as a secretary to the Director of one of the biggest News Radio Stations in Athens. His name was Iannis Tzannetakos, a very well respected journalist in Greece, and he was my boyfriend’s step dad.

I will always be so grateful to him for the opportunity he gave me. It was the coolest job anyone could have ever asked for. I have incredible memories from those times. From meeting all kinds of politicians, that an average person would spend a lifetime never even passing by, to actually making friends with people you only get to see on TV, to meeting actors and musicians that came to be interviewed! Once I even got stuck in an elevator with a member of the parliament who was a Minister of the Cabinet, but then he started hitting on me and it stopped being cool really fast. They all used to hang out in my office before they met the Director, because, surprisingly, my office was bigger than his! I met so many well known people in the few months that I worked there. It was awesome!

When Iannis (he insisted on everyone calling him by his first name) first realized that I needed a little “help” coming out of my shell, he took it upon himself to do so. Once he asked me to go to the studio downstairs and tell the audio technicians that I was there to audition as a newscaster. Their job was to decide if I could do it. If that was the case, they would have to decide if my voice and style were good enough to read the news bulletins during the morning and noon shifts.
I was so scared! I think I sat there waiting for my turn, cursing the time I ever started working there, for a while. In my mind I was sure he was doing it to humiliate me and I was pretty mad at him.

When the sound techs were finally ready for me they handed me some huge headphones that I really had to try hard to keep on my head without tilting over. My hands were shaking so bad, I had to put the pages they handed me to read on my lap, so they wouldn’t notice. I was about to go into convulsions, when Ianni’s wife came to check on me. I heard her saying under her breath “He’s crazy! He wants me to try out too!”

I think that’s when I realized what his plan was. He was trying to find a reason to get rid of her because she was always hanging around the office doing nothing and it got to his nerves (yeah, they had that kind of relationship), so alas, he had sent her down to “check on me and keep me company”, wink, wink.

The idea alone was enough to cheer me up, so I was able to loosen up and read the part just fine. It was a stupid "scientific" article about bunnies, and I couldn’t exactly understand how that would be relevant with any of the current affairs I was supposed to be covering, but I quickly understood that all those technicians were interested in, was the pitch of my voice.

His wife refused to read the bunny article, so they gave her one about the weather. We were both deemed to have a “voice for the night” (I know, it sounds perverted, but I swear it was really innocent), but my schedule was in the morning, so I told them I couldn’t do it and ran out of there as fast as my feet could carry me. She on the other hand thought it was very flattering, so she stayed down there for a little longer, to my boss's delight, while I headed back on the 2nd floor to where my office was.

His second attempt to make me a little more social was when he sent me to help out the journalists who didn’t know how to type. I really wanted the ground to open underneath my feet and swallow me, after all I was a little star struck, but my wish was not granted. I knew they needed help, so I walked slowly towards them and said that Iannis had sent me to help them out.

So there I was, the one hailed as their savior, the girl that could type faster than they could. Things were crazy in there! They all worked around a really long table, papers laying scattered everywhere and a grey cloud of cigarette smoke looming over their heads like a death wish waiting to happen. The minute a big piece would hit the room everyone went immediately into a state of panic for a few seconds! Then the chief editor would twirl his moustache and give out assignments so that everyone had a part in the events they should cover, and things would settle down again.

They were always very busy and they were all working in a frantic manner. It was a news station, so they had reporters who read a 10 minute version of the news on the hour, every hour, and others who read the headline news every half an hour. So as you can well deduce, slow typing was not exactly much appreciated in a fast moving environment like that. I was their hero!

So I changed my schedule and came in early in the morning, around 7 am. At first I used to just sit at the long table and type a bunch of things that they would dictate to me. I also used to help them out when they couldn’t figure out how to use the fax machine or the copier. Later on I became more involved in writing some of the pieces, if they were ever short handed.

From 10-12pm I would help Ianni with his stuff. Typing press releases about an upcoming program or guest, preparing reports from information I pulled out of the statistics Nielsen Media Research used to send to us, mostly about the popularity of the station compared to others, or taking notes on his funny (rolling down on the floor funny) bulletins he had me type every now and then, about the correct way to do and say things while on the air.

From 12-3pm I had to return to the “smoking” table and help them out with the first long news report of the day that all the big gun journalists had worked on for hours. There were interviews, special reports, breaking news etc.

It was there that I met Tito. Titos Kontopoulos was probably 8-9 years older than me and he was sharp as a whip. He covered the reports from the Ministry of Defense and he was very good at it. Everybody said he had great potential. You could always count on him to be on time, brief and on the subject, something the chief editors loved! He was a timid and quiet man, and he did his job silently and for the most part kept to himself. I guess we both recognized the kindred spirit within us, and soon the 2 of us had become the “jokers” of the Station. Weird, I know!

We used to cut and paste the funniest articles we could find while scanning through the newspapers every morning, as it was part of our job. We always found the funniest things in the newspapers that belonged to the extreme right wing, and we used to tape them on the wall, right on top of the fax/copier machine. Things like: "The whole nation demands for the King to return to power!" or "Constantinopole will be our capital once again!", stuff like that! Then we would wait to see peoples' reactions as they read them while getting their copies. It was a riot!

After a while the rest of the journalist were on to us, so the right wing guys started doing the same on their part of the wall, using of course articles clipped from the extreme left wing newspapers, so pretty soon it had turned into an all out battle! Who’s going to have the funniest piece on their wall today? It was hilarious!

Soon it was Christmas, and Titos left for his vacation. When he came back a few weeks later however we all noticed that he had started wearing hats a lot, something that he never used to do before. He was different. He went back to being reserved and quiet, he kept to himself and he chose to sit at a desk away from everybody else. Pretty soon the jokes died out, but we all remembered the good old days of the “funny news war” as we called them.

One day I got to work very early. The bus drivers were on strike (it happens a lot there), so I had to get up early and fight my way to a cab. Titos was the only one there and I saw him putting his head down and wiping tears from his face as soon as I walked in the room. I wasn’t sure if I should talk to him or not, he was always so private, but I was really worried about him, and I decided to ask him what was wrong. He still had his hat on and he raised his hands and pointed to his head. “I lost all my hair” he whispered. “I have alopecia because of the stress, my hair is all gone!”

I felt so sorry for him. He used to have beautiful thick hair, and he was taking it pretty hard. I asked him if this would be permanent. “No, it will grow back!” he said sadly. “Oh, come on, it will be all right then!” I tried to cheer him up a bit. I went down on the first floor to get his morning coffee and croissant, and after a few words of encouragement and a pat on the back we both started working again, not mentioning it ever again. Not too long after this incident he decided to start working more on outside assignments, so he didn’t have to face all those people in the office. We all understood, but we all missed him.

A few months later, Iannis resigned from directing the station and a bunch of the journalists that were his friends followed him. I wanted to leave too but he asked me to stay. He knew that they were going to fire everybody that had been hired by him anyway, so he advised me to stay and take the severance they would have to pay me. It wasn’t too long after that and, just like he said, I was fired along with others that had gotten their jobs through him. That’s how things roll in Greece.

A few weeks later Iannis asked me to join him to the next radio station he was hired to be the Director (by that time he couldn’t find his own glasses without me!) but I decided it was time for me to start college full time, so I passed.

Years later I was at my sister’s house visiting. She had a pile of her students’ homework she needed to correct on her desk (she’s an ESL teacher), and my eye caught the name of the student on the first paper. “Titos Kontopoulos!” No way, I thought. I asked my sister and after an exchange of information we decided it must be the same guy! “You’re his teacher? How weird is that? Does he have hair?” I asked. My sister thought I was joking about his thick hair. “Yeah, he has hair, tons of it.” Good, I thought to my self.

I never saw Tito again, but a few years ago as I was reading the news on a Greek webiste, I found this:

Titos Kontopoulos dies, aged 45

Politicians and journalists yesterday paid tribute to Titos Kontopoulos, a respected reporter on political and defense affairs, who died on Saturday at the age of 45 in London, where he had been undergoing treatment for cancer. Defense Minister Evangelos Meimarakis described Kontopoulos as “a fighter, just and serious... a real master of his subject.” Kontopoulos had been working for the Ethnos newspaper.

I was deeply saddened to hear the news, but of course life went on, as it usually does. I thought of him again yesterday, while Brian and I were talking about our experience at the wig shop.

Now that I think about it I’m not sure if he indeed had alopecia due to stress, as he had claimed, or if he was going through chemo and never told anybody. I had never put two and two together until yesterday!

And you want to know something spooky? When I started writing this I had no idea of the exact day he died, so when I googled his name and I found the article I posted above, I noticed it was published on 4/25/06! Three years ago to the day! Yikes!

Not to mention that I did feel a weird breeze behind me and my hair at the back of my head did stand up at some point while I was typing. I’m kidding you not!

Mama mia! I better call the ghost hunting plumbers on Sci-Fi Channel and report my paranormal experience.

The Wig

Have you seen “The Bucket List”? I watched it a few months ago, before I was even diagnosed, and I really enjoyed it (little did I know!) Other than the fact that Nicholson plays his “crazy and obnoxious” Nicholson version and Morgan Freeman plays his “Driving Miss Daisy” character yet again, the movie was not half bad.

Well, for those who don’t know the plot, it’s about 2 terminally ill men, one is filthy rich (Nicholson), the other not so much (Freeman). The 2 meet each other in the cancer ward of a hospital that Nicholson basically owns. Freeman starts making a list of things that he’d like to do before he dies. When rich Nicholson gets a hold of it he makes everything happen, but not before he adds a few crazy ones of his own. Both men learn a lot from each other but unfortunately this is not one of those stories where you can say at the end that they lived happily ever after, because of course they both die of cancer eventually.

I too found my self thinking along those lines not too long ago, and the first thing on my list was to teach each of my kids a song on the guitar.
Today I’m happy to announce that David has learned how to play his very first song on my guitar, “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” by Iron and Wine, compliments to his amazingly talented mom who taught him all the chords and how to strum! He still needs to practice a little more but he did great for a first time! I’m so proud of him. Way to go David! :-)

On a different note, I went to the clinic to check my INR today and it’s within the normal range again, meaning I need to continue taking Coumadin and alternate the dose from 5mg to 2,5mg every other day as I have been doing. They didn’t take blood for any further tests, so I guess I’ll have to wait until next Friday to find out what my white blood count is. Last week it was 0.7! Holy cow! The normal range is 4.6-10.2 so I can’t help wondering if that is even humanly possible in a live state! Apparently yes for me.

The doctors mentioned last time that they’ll give me a shot of Neuplasta a day after chemo, in order to boost my WBC and my immune system. I hear it hurts the bones like heck when it enters the bone marrow, but it is very effective. I try to eat healthy and I started doing my stretching exercises again. Let’s not forget that I have a bad back on top of everything else, so I need to take it easy. I’m hoping that my counts will be up next week. Brian keeps stuffing things in my mouth and gets frustrated when I just can’t eat. Maybe one good thing would be that I’ll loose some weight.

Anyway after all the poking and pricking at the clinic, we went to a place called “Allusions” which claims to be “the natural solution to hair loss”. I was a little apprehended when I first walked in. The place looked nice, but I didn’t know what to expect. I felt a knot in my throat. Thankfully the lady that we talked to was very friendly and sweet. She noticed that I felt uncomfortable even just being there.

My guess is I wasn’t the first one to walk through that door carrying this load on their shoulders. She asked me if I was loosing my hair due to medical reasons. I could barely find the words to talk I was so dazed, but Brian saved me as he often does, by telling her I was diagnosed with breast cancer not too long ago and it’s been 2 weeks since my first treatment. I finally found my voice and told her that yesterday was the first day that I noticed a considerable amount of hair coming off. She looked at me and said smiling “Don’t worry, we’ll help you through this.” Immediately something in my gut told me that she really meant it and I relaxed a bit. OK, they don't bite.

She took us in a private back room to look at the wigs they had displayed on a shelf. I sat in a swiveling chair in front of a mirror feeling rather depressed at first. I had to wear a silly cap, kinda like a pantyhose that goes only on the top of the head, in order to keep the real hair down and out of the way.

I don’t know if I was ready yet to admit that I had lost that fight. Not that there was anything I could do about it of course, but it’s really hard to see your hair go! I would have never imagined! The thought of it only makes me feel sicker than I already am, if that’s even possible!

The lady started taking measurements of my head and making conversation. I just wanted to cry, but always true to myself, I held it together. Apparently the bone on the back of my head is not protruding enough, which to me didn’t seem to be such a big predicament, but I found out that it might be a little tricky to keep the wig from slipping towards the front because of it. She said that they can fix it but they’ll have to use double of something or another to keep it in place. By that point I didn’t really mind, “It’s not going to be my hair anyway, so who cares?” I thought grudgingly.

The first 2 wigs that I tried were about the same color as my own hair, only a lot longer. The hair itself was very good quality, they looked and felt very natural, but when I tried it on I felt ridiculous. I looked like one of the guys on SNL when they dress up like girls. It looked so not like me. Scary! Then I asked her if I could try a shorter hairstyle. She showed me 2 more that looked really nice and I loved the color! One was shoulder length and the other one was even shorter, barely below the ears.

I tried both on and we all agreed that those 2 were the ones that looked best on me, especially the short haired one. Who would have thought! I actually looked good in short hair! At that point I had started getting excited and having fun with the whole thing. It was like playing dress up again, and what girl doesn’t like that!

I was still busy talking to the lady, asking her opinion and trying on hats and scarves when I noticed for the first time that Brian had gotten pretty quiet. I turned my chair to look at him and I realized he had tears in his eyes. “Are you OK, honey?” I asked him. The lady quickly excused herself and got out of the room.

“Yes!” he said, “It’s just that I’ve seen how sad and worried you’ve been the past few days about losing your hair. I just saw your face relax for the first time in days when you tried that first wig! When you tried on the second one it was even better! Your face looked so bright and happy! I finally saw the pain melt away from you and for the first time you had a look that said “OK, I can do this”. I’m so happy for you!”

That’s my Brian! He’s always so sensitive and thoughtful. He even wanted me to buy both wigs! Isn’t he sweet? We’re talking close to $1200 for both! Good thing I have a prescription from the doctor for a "cranial prosthesis" and our health insurance will hopefully cover part of it. I told him I only needed one. If I feel like playing dress up again I can buy one of the cheaper ones. You can find some of the low quality ones for $30. If any of you girls (or boys) want a cool wig for Halloween in 2010 I know where you can find a really good one. Sorry it's already reserved for Halloween 2009. ;-)

The girl came back to the room a few minutes later and asked me if anyone has given me a “pink ribbon bag” yet. I had no idea what that was, so she left the room again and came back with this pretty tote that was FULL with goodies in her hands. It was so full it was almost impossible to carry around! I had to hand it to Brian because it was so heavy!

When I came home and opened it I found a hat, a water bottle, 3 books about cancer and how to self-heal (maybe they know something we don’t), a journal/sketch book with a pen, a chapstick and a hand lotion, some mints, a pink satin pillowcase (cotton pillowcases irritate the scalp when you don’t have hair), a pink aromatherapy heating and cooling pad, coloring pencils and post it notes, even a walkman with a tape that helps you meditate during chemo! I’m thinking I’ll probably be spending my next treatment visualizing that I’m zapping that tumor with a big laser gun or something. Not bad.

I’m home with Natalie now. Brian, William and the boys went downtown to see the baseball game, so it’s just us girls getting ready for our slumber party. I’m thinking no hair dressing game this time, which is unfortunately Natalie’s favorite part of the slumber parties we have. She takes out her hair dryer and brushes my hair, puts ribbons and pins on them… It wouldn’t be so amusing if she was left with bunches of my hair in her hands, poor thing!

There’s still light outside so we will have to wait a couple more hours. I decided to turn on my computer and check my calendar. Lo and behold, I have more appointments coming up. One with a dietician next week, then my second round of chemo on Friday and my Look Good… Feel Better seminar that Brian signed me up for last week. Apparently they give you a big box with all kinds of goodies there too!

http://www.lookgoodfeelbetter.org/index.htm

This is a list of companies donating their products for the make-up kit they give you. A big thank you to all of them!

Avon Products, Inc.*
BeautiControl
Beiersdorf North America, Inc.
Bonne Bell, Inc.
Chanel Inc.
Clarins Groupe USA,
Cosmolab Inc.
Coty U.S., Inc.
Del Laboratories, Inc.
Elizabeth Arden
The Estee Lauder Companies Inc.
Aveda Corporation
Bobbi Brown Professional Cosmetics
Clinique Laboratories, Inc.
Estee Lauder Inc.
M.A.C. Cosmetics
Origins Natural Resources, Inc.
Prescriptives Inc.
Stila Cosmetics
Johnson & Johnson Consumer Products Worldwide.
Neutrogena Corporation
KAO Brands Company
Lindi Skin
L’Oreal USA, Inc.
Dermablend, Inc.
Lancome
L’Oreal
Maybelline, Inc.
Mary Kay, Inc.
Merle Norman Cosmetics
OPI Products, Inc.
Playtex Products, Inc.
Pochet of America
Procter & Gamble Cosmetics
Redex Industries, Inc
Revlon, Inc.
Almay
Schering-Plough Healthcare Products
Unilever Home & Personal Care NA
Chesebrough-Pond’s USA
YSL Beauté, Inc.
Alberto-Culver Company
Shiseido Cosmetics (America) Ltd.

Don't be jealous girls, I'd much rather buy the stuff at the mall, than have them given to me because I have breast cancer. I'm sure we all agree on this.
But truth be told, there are some perks to having cancer. Who knew! :-)

You have been warned!

It's interesting how things flow out of my mind when I sit down to write. When I first started, Brian was surprised at how direct I could be. I told him that although this is not the first time in my life that I write to get things out, I've never felt more inspired to dive deeper than I had ever before.

I never meant for other people to read my blog, so that's why I don't spend too much time trying to make it perfect, but it does reflect what is going on inside me, and I know that's not perfect either. Brian was worried that if I let other people read it, my style might change. We'll see.

I'm usually so reserved and keep things so tightly bottled up. My therapist once told me that I can't go on living my life like this, not trusting my self and not letting others come closer.
So let's just say this is my first attempt after years of hiding to let everything pour out and since I made a commitment to my self to be honest while I write these lines, I intend to keep it.

I write things the way I feel them, I don't want to be influenced by the fact that someone might read it and feel left out, or too included, or anything of that nature. I still want to keep it the same way, raw and uncut. So, bare with me as I go down that path if you still wish to. You're more than welcome to join me, but I think it's going to be a rough ride!

Definitely not like Elvis!

It’s like a daily joke between me and the kids to let them come and tug on my hair to see if my hair is still attached to my scalp! Well, let’s just say today was different. The boys came to my room and while we were talking I ran my fingers through my hair and when I pulled it out a big tuft came out in my hand.

Within seconds our daily joke stopped being funny anymore. I smiled and tried to crack an awkward joke “It has begun, guys!” but I think I couldn’t hide the surprise on my face. David said astonished “I really thought it wouldn’t happen.” Darian looked at both of us nervously not knowing what to do or say. “Yeah, me too” I said trying to sound indifferent.

We all climbed back on my bed, a little more somber, and looked at the catalog for wigs, hats and scarves once again. I could tell that this time they both felt the urgency of choosing a good one for me. They marked their favorite ones and commented on the ones that they thought would make me look “old”. We agreed that we would all initial the ones we liked and buy the ones that got the most approval.

A few minutes later they left the room to move on to their next game and I was left on the bed feeling exhausted. The familiar shortness of breath that seems to have been residing in my lungs lately felt worse than ever. Deep breaths…David came back not too long after, he laid down right next me and said “It’s going to be OK mom.” While touching my hair gently.

I can sense the change around me. My oldest son has started talking softer to me; he even hugs and kisses me now. My youngest has been sneaking in my room with his book offering to read to me. He usually wants me to read to him but not too long ago I told him that it calms me to listen to him read. Now that I think about it, my little girl had nightmares about me going away this morning. I wonder why.

I can’t help thinking about things that I would like to be remembered for.
I’d like to leave behind a mark for my children to look back to, something that would inspire them to think of me. At the same time I dread the thought of leaving things unfinished.

I think about that box in the basement, full of letters and journals I’ve kept over the years. Do I want these left behind? I had Brian promise me that he would keep the letters, and the endless lists I made of the kids’ first words and funny things they said from time to time, but definitely burn the journals. It’s only more painful memories and who needs that?

I talk about last wishes. I don’t have any houses or land to leave behind, so it comes down to personal effects. Brian keeps silent notes in his head, I know it must not be easy for him to hear this, but he’s patient, he understands that those are things I need to say.
We talk about what he would do after. Would he get married again? I tell him he needs a mother for those kids, he answers he loves me. I promise to look after him and the kids, and he says he'll come and find me, so we can be together again.

OK, I know this goes too far. I really don’t feel that depressed. I’m actually quite optimistic about the whole thing. I’ll do what needs to be done and I’ll fight as much as I can, but just like playing any other game, you need to cover all your bases.
I really doubt that I’ll die of breast cancer or that it would happen anytime soon. I’ll probably die of a broken hip in my 90’s or something.

There’s only one thing I’m sure of. I would not want to die like Elvis! I’d take cancer any day!
;-)

Gramma sent me this really neat e-mail that included her thoughts about who God is and what he wants from us. She's in a Bible Study group on line and when I read her response it really got me to thinking about those questions too.

So here it goes:


I believe God not to be too different from us, after all he did create us in his own image, but he has through the ages obtained perfect knowledge. Using this he was able to create a perfect world for us where an immaculate mechanism has been working tirelessly in order to keep a perfect balance for eons . Every time something leans to one side, a chain reaction of events will counteract things to bring everything back where it should be. God in his infinite wisdom has created our bodies with the same thought in mind. God is indeed the architect of the entire world.

God is full of love for us because he knows, through his own experience as an exalted being, that this is the only way we too could evolve and could reach a higher level of existence. Through love, caring and understanding for one another we can fill in the gaps of our ignorance. By sharing our knowledge and helping out each other we will be what we were promised we could be.

So, any thoughts on that? (He, he I'm trying to get Brian to respond... ) ;-)

Whose number is next?

I woke up this morning thinking about something I read in Renee's blog (Hi Renee, welcome aboard, thanks for your kind words!). She mentioned that one of the times she went to the hospital she was given a number, so she knew she was number so and so while waiting for her turn to be examined.

It reminded me when I was doing my first training at the Medical Center in Athens. I was a young physical therapist and it was my first time in the ICU. We worked in teams of 4, the Chief physical therapist that trained us, his assistant, and 2 of us, still in training.

Right after we would put our white robes on and would report for duty, we' be given a clip board and a pager. There on the board would be a list of the patients that we'd had to visit, their room number, their diagnosis, and the kind of t treatment their doctor wanted us to perform. Each patient was given a number of course, so we knew where to look, in case we had to search in their medical forms etc.

It was a great way to gain experience! We got to work on all kinds of cases. But one thing that caught my attention was that every now and then our beeper would beep and it would show up a patient's number. We were given instructions that every time a number shows up the treatment for that particular person had been cancelled and we should cross out the name of the patient from our list. We didn't give it a second thought and did just as they had told us.

We went ahead with the busy schedule of the day, going from one patient to another, dealing with all kinds of different people and their ailments. By the end of our shift we looked down on our list and the only names left were the ones that had popped up on our pagers and were now crossed out.

My friend commented "Well, it's a good thing we had so many people released today, 'cause I'm beat!" The assistant that was standing right to next her looked at her astonished and said, "You do realize that those were all patients we lost, right?" My friend, still unaware to what the assistant was referring to said "Yes, but it means they got better and they won't need the therapy, so it's good news, isn't it?" She looked at both of us in a condescending way, took a deep breath and said slowly as if that would help us understand better "It means they died... " she said dryly.

My friend and I looked at each other with horror in our eyes. We hadn't realized that getting those message on our pagers all day long didn't always mean that the patients got better, or that they were moved to a different department. It simply meant that they didn't make it. We heard our Chief Physical Therapist say" Well, the good thing is that they sure won't need any physical therapy where they're going!"

I'll never forget how naive and innocent I felt and how quickly that experience grounded us both me and my friend. From then on, and after getting to meet a lot of our patients that were on our daily list, we dreaded hearing the buzz of the stupid pager. We would go down the list hoping it wasn't anyone of our patients or that it was someone that had gotten better and was discharged.

I only spent 3-4 weeks in the ICU as part of my training, but I felt they were the longest weeks in my entire life. That agony of who lived or died will always haunt me.

I have a splitting headache. I know...What am I doing typing on the computer if my head hurts that bad? If Brian knew that I was doing this and not taking a nap he would be very upset with me. In the last 36 hours I've had about 3 hours of sleep total, and I still don't feel that I can close my eyes, relax and drift away to La La Land.

My throat still hurts, and I still don't know what it means. I'm cold and tired. I just got back from the doctor and got another prescription to add to the ones I already have. I'll try to take an Ativan and get some sleep finally.

I've been feeling a little down today. I called my mom at 1:30 in the morning, it was 8:30 pm in Greece, to ask her questions about how people had died on her side of the family and if it was disease related, from what. No breast cancer on her side, from what I can tell. My dad though had a sister that died from breast cancer years ago. I never met her.
My mom of course kept on adding her comments, frustrations and little stories she felt were worth mentioning about every single person of the family tree, so that phone call took a while, as you can imagine.

We ended on a weird note. Her asking me if I wanted her to come to see me. I really didn't know what to say. I know she's older and frail now, but I also understand that she's worried about me. I don't want her to come here and get sick like last time, but I don't want her to get the wrong idea, that I don't want her to come. Complicated. As it always is with my mom. She's very sensitive and gets her feelings hurt about things that wouldn't even cross somebody else's mind.
I told her that maybe it would be a better idea if Mikie could come with her, or maybe just Mikie and Antonis since he already said he wanted to come see me in August. So I guess we'll see how that goes.

This afternoon when the mail came I had an awesome packet from Mikie. She sent me the first 20 volumes of Froutopia in comic books, a really popular show in Greece when I was in High School, 3 DVD's and a bunch of other goodies. She really made my day. She's always such a thoughtful gift giver. She really puts her mind and soul to it when she gives. Thanks Sis!

I called her right a way and we talked for a while. She too said that she would like to come and visit. I'm very touched by this. I actually got very emotional after we got off the phone. It would really mean a lot to me and my family if they could actually make it but I feel a little nervous at the same time. I'm worried that I'll be too sick and I don't know if I'd want them to see me like this. I'll just have to keep my fingers crossed I guess, and pray for the best. I think it will be hard for them to see me sick, weak, with no hair, especially right after the surgery, since I'm seriously considering the double mastectomy.

I think I'll have to accept the fact my that my family loves me no matter what, and they'll want to be here for me when I need their support the most. Sadly, I'm just not used to it. Being away for so long, I always had to fight my battles here, sometimes even there, alone. We've drifted apart, I know. I still miss them though and there have been endless times when I think about them and how I wish we could be closer, and I don't only mean geographically.

Anyway, it would be wonderful to see them all. Brian and the kids would love it and I would be so happy to have them here all together! Our house has plenty of room for everybody.
It'd be great!

Life goes on

It's 5:30 AM. I woke up a while ago, and I can't get back to sleep. I feel fine, except I have soreness in my throat which I seriously hope it's due to lack of water, rather than a cold of some kind.

It's Easter Sunday in Greece. I talked to mom and dad and Mikie yesterday. I could hear the dynamites exploding in the background. Yes, you read that right, I did not mean to say fireworks. In Kalymnos, the Greek island I was born, custom has it that we celebrate Easter in a most...peculiar way. Men in their 20's, sometimes even older, climb up on the mountains and throw sticks of dynamites up in the air. Needless to say there's been a competition brewing there for decades. The team or mountain as we say, that makes the most noise "wins". If you still don't believe me, search on YouTube "Pasxa Kalymnos 2008" and enjoy the show. :-)

I'm downstairs in the family room. I can hear a lonely bird chirping. I guess someone else is up all by themselves too. I bet his little nest friends are cursing the way he, or she can't keep his or her mouth shut right about now. At least I don't chirp! :-)

I can hear footsteps. It's either Natalie getting out of her bed to come and join us in ours, or Brian realizing I'm not by his side. I'd put my chips on the first one. She really likes to come in our bed early in the morning and spend a couple of hours cuddling with mom and dad.

If you haven't realized by now, I have nothing that's worth your time to read. I'm just up early, and maybe that in itself has some deep significance that I truly fail to understand, other than of course the sad observation that when you feel sick you tend to have restless nights and useless early awakenings. So, that's that.

I sat down to write some e-mails yesterday, and by the time I was done, I felt so stupid repeating myself in every single e-mail that I decided to send a link to this blog to Gramma. She's the only one I felt like sharing this. I don't know how she does it, but she gets me. The fact that she sees her sister's struggle with cancer in mine I guess gives us both the chance to revisit old ghosts that we had chosen to bury in the past, but now feel that need for them to be addressed.

I can't count how many times since this ordeal of mine has started, I've had the picture of my poor uncle Michael come to my head. I remember I was only 13-14 when I first found out that he had cancer. He left with my aunt to Athens in order to find some "good" doctors there, leaving my 2 cousins to be looked after by my Grandma who came to stay with them. He was diagnosed with lung cancer, that later metastasized to his brain, and spent months in a hospital there.

My brother, who was in his first year in college, used to visit him a lot. One of the times Antonis came back he brought home a small bag with a lock of my uncle's hair that he picked off the ground when he chose to shave his head during his chemo. My mom still has it.

I still have his picture in my head, riding his bike to work every morning, then coming back in the afternoon to eat in a hurry and then go out in his yard and work for hours at a time. I almost always remember him on his knees sweating to plant things, strawberries, carrots, pretty flowers and trees, or paving the walk way to the house, carrying rocks, and painting.

The next time I saw my uncle, he was a dying man. They brought him home in a stretcher, he was half his size, with a gauntly pale, yellow face, and no hair. The laid him on Kaki's bed, and I don't think I ever saw him standing again. He used to slip in and out of consciousness, moaning in his sleep. My aunt used to go in and out of the room bringing him pills and a cup of water, and rubbing her hands raw with alcohol to keep off the germs.

I remember the few times he would open his eyes and see me there he would start telling stories of funny things I used to do as a kid. How I used to say "shhh" with my back teeth instead of "ssss" with my front, how I used to beg him to let me try the carrots he had planted, always funny stories. It felt weird to be remembered that way. Up until then, those would be the kind of stories a teenager like me dreaded. This was the first time I heard those stories and felt proud that they were important enough for my dying uncle to remember.

One day I came home from school early. I had found a puppy in the street outside our schoolyard and I was excited to take it home and beg for my mother to let me keep it. When I walked in the house there was no one there. I went outside to our porch and looked at my aunt's house (our houses are right next to each other, since my Grandpa who built both houses wanted to have his 2 daughters live close) and saw a neighbor getting water from my uncle's well. She looked at me and said "your uncle..." and then gestured with her hands "it's over".

I was shocked! Here I was with this cute little puppy in my hands, all excited to show everybody yet another pet I brought home, or rather saved from the streets, as I always liked to say to my tired mom in hopes she'd let me keep it. I didn't know what to do. I had even brought a friend along to ease the process of persuasion. I could always count on the fact that my parents would go easy on me if I had someone outside the family there with me.

I put the puppy in the bathroom and walked into my aunt's house. I saw my aunt dressed in black. She looked at me sadly and said "Paei o theios", " your uncle's gone". I hugged and kissed her. I looked and saw his body laid in a casket, trimmed with white flowers, right there in their living room. Men and women with sad faces, dressed in black, sitting all around, and my parents among them. My dad stood up and hugged my uncle's body and cried. It's the only time I've seen my father cry. Even my mom was shocked. I don't think she had ever seen him cry either. She came and talked to me.

I felt really lost. I had sneaked out of school during recess. What do I do? "Go back to get my stuff," I guessed. Then it dawned on me. Petros, my cousin was still at school. I had found a purpose, a way to be helpful! I turned to my mom and said I'll go back to school and tell Petro. I'll bring him back home.

I left running and didn't stop until I saw the school's steps. I walked in and timid as I was back then, I immediately felt this had been a really bad idea. Now I actually had to talk to the Principal and ask him to let me go find my cousin in his classroom and break to him the news that his dad had died. I think God felt sorry for everyone involved, so when I finally mustered the courage to walk into the Principal's office, he informed me that his other uncle, uncle Michael's brother, had already come by and picked him up.

I went back to my classroom and told the teacher I had to leave, so I packed my stuff and went back home. Petros was already there when I arrived. After talking to him for a few minutes he went in his bedroom, broke down and started crying. I stood there not knowing what to do. I don't think I had ever hugged him before; I was usually his favorite past time, and not in a good way. One time he and my brother had tied me up on a tree terrorizing me for several minutes that felt like hours to me, threatening me that they would let spiders loose on me if I didn't quit following them around and ruining their playtime! But I was old enough to understand that this was all in the past. I hugged him and lied to him that it would be all right.

We hanged out all day and all night. I remember it was a windy night, but not cold at all. We were out wondering around the front yard, amazed at our newly found freedom to be up so late, not in our beds and not under the constant adult supervision we were used to. They even let us drink coffee! We mostly joked and laughed, but we were also a little spooked by the sound of the howling wind. It was awesome! One of the best times I ever had with my cousin. Since then of course we've grown pretty close. I even was his "koumbara" at his wedding, in other words I was an official witness to his marriage to his wife, which in Greece at least is as important as being a godmother to his children.

The next day was the funeral. We dressed in our Sunday clothes and got ready to go. My cousin Kaki who was up all night sitting by her mom and had nothing to eat all day, just collapsed. I remember walking in the church and only a few minutes after that she leaned on my shoulder and whispered in my ear "I need to get out of here. I don't feel well." I almost carried her out and then supported her all the way back home. She felt clammy and she was shaking. I was a little bummed because I really wanted to be at the funeral, but I didn't regret it. She was in a really poor shape.

I don't remember much after that. The first few weeks I remember spending a lot of time at my aunt's house, thinking they could all use some company and support, but after that I guess life just went on as usual. My family moved to Athens the next year. Later on both of my cousins got married, Petros has 3 kids now, and he took over my uncle's store and opened his own right next to it. Kaki still lives in the house and sleeps with her husband in the same, but newly furnished, room that her father died. My aunt still wears black and lives in a little guesthouse they built for her right behind the main house. In the exact spot where my uncle used to have his tool shed. The one that Petros burned down trying to figure out how to light matches, but that's a whole different story.

Life does go on. Even after death. Only I didn't get to keep the puppy.

I've had a couple of rough days yesterday and the day before. I went to see the doctor on Friday, and my blood count was a mess. My red cells are low, my white cells are super low, my INR went from 5.8 to 1.8, which explains why I've been feeling tired, dizzy and weak last week. Well, not that having cancer alone wouldn't have caused this! ;-)
Anyway, I'll have to go back and recheck everything next Friday, and then go back the Friday after that, to get another cocktail of poison to weed out the stupid cancer cells. Grrrrr!

The doctor said I have to be extra careful about infections, colds etc. so I have to avoid places with crowds, avoid being around pets and, the hardest one for me, not hug and kiss the kids, in case they pass on their germs to me. I'll probably have to wear a mask on the plane, if I end up going to Hawaii. We still want to make it happen, but we have to keep an open mind and accept the fact that it might not be possible. I'm hoping that I won't be too sick after my second treatment in 2 weeks. The first one wasn't that bad.

I bought some hats to have in case the inevitable happens. I tried them on and the kids and I were making jokes about looking funny. I wanted them to see me wearing them, so they can get used to the idea. I sometimes wonder if it's possible to skip that part, and keep my hair. Not very likely, I know. My cousin that had breast cancer didn't loose hers during chemo. I wish it would run in families, you know? My mom says it's because she was so optimistic about it, LOL!! I wish!
I hate it when the nurses talk to me and touch my hair and say " Such a same, you have such nice, thick, wavy hair!" It makes want to scream " I KNOWWW!!"

Anyway, enough cancer talk. William came and took the kids to the zoo today. It's very nice of him. Brian and I drove them there and Brian we'll have to go pick them up pretty soon so Darian can make it to his baseball practice. I promised him that I would take a nap, but I don't see that happening now. I like this time alone, I don't want to waste it on sleep.

I started making some "awareness" bracelets. Finally I can use all my pink beads! I bought some ribbon charms too, but they haven't arrived in the mail yet. I've made 2 so far and they look pretty cool. I'll take a picture as soon as can find my camera. I gave it to the boys to make their movies, I have no clue where they put it.

Well, that's all for now. I'm gonna try and get some rest, watching TV or something.

Cocktails, beads and wires

The first round of chemo went fine. The gave me a "cocktail" of 2 drugs and I was pumped up with so much anti- nausea medicine and steroids that I felt fine all day yesterday and most of the day today. I had a little bit of a fever, chills and hot flashes, but nothing serious.

Starting earlier this afternoon I started feeling a little more sick to my stomach and more fatigued, but I still feel OK. The doctor told me it's probably going to get worse within the next 2 days, but I think I'll be fine. It hasn't been that bad so far, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. They also told me I should expect my hair to start going "bye-bye" within the next 10-25 days. I've already started looking for hats, scarves and wigs. The kids help me choose, so it's kinda fun actually! We're still keeping a positive attitude around here! :-)

I started working on some jewelery again. It's been a while and I had forgotten how much I like it. I'm glad I had the energy to do it. I'm making something new for Mikie and I'm thinking maybe something for all the girls in the family. I still haven't come up with the right idea, but it's somewhere in there. I'll figure it out.

Well, I better go now. Yesterday I couldn't sleep. I finally was able to around 5:00 am, so I promised Brian I would try to go to bed early tonight. It's already after midnight of course, so...I don't know if I'll be able to. I think I should start taking that sedative the doctors gave me. :-(

Not even gardening...

I always like to plant things in the Spring! I just planted some seeds with Natalie yesterday. She was thrilled! I also bought a rosebush, but I haven't planted it yet.

Unfortunately my doctor told me today that one of the things I should avoid while I'm doing chemo is...gardening! He said there's a higher risk of infection since my immune system is going to have a hard time keeping up during the treatments. Rats! I sure am glad I did it the day before he told me. I'm hoping Brian and the boys can plant the rosebush. :-)

I had my first round yesterday. It was OK. I don't feel any nausea or dizziness yet, I do have a terrible heartburn though, and I feel pretty tired. My doctor warned me that the next 2 days will be the worst. He gave me a prescription to take care of these symptoms, so I should be fine.

We'll see...

Round One - Us and Them

I had my first treatment today. It was raining and it was pretty depressing.
I felt uneasy and worried.

When I arrived at the clinic of course I had to fill out all the paperwork first. I felt so uncomfortable in there. I really didn't get good vibes from the place.

After all the paper work was done, a nurse came and took me to a room to take my vitals and ask me some questions. Then we went back to the waiting room to get Brian and walked to a different room where my oncologist was going to come and talk to me.

Before the nurse left she put a ...paper (what the heck, PAPER??) robe/shirt on the chair. I assumed of course that I was supposed to wear it. It felt so uncomfortable, it was short and didn't have sleeves, like a short poncho made of paper. I felt so...degraded. Why do they treat sick people this way? Like having cancer and being poked and pricked and probed doesn't already take enough of our dignity away? I was obvious a little sad, and Brian who saw me like this got really upset. He worries about me a lot.

Finally the doctor came in. As soon as he saw me I could tell that he felt apologetic too. "You really didn't need to take your clothes off and wear that!" Really? Then why do you even have those things in here? For those who feel like wearing them?

Anyway, he told me not to worry, everything will be OK blah, blah, and he talked about my cancer and the way he wants to treat it. Brian of course had a ton of questions again. I really don't know how he comes up with all that stuff! Of course it's extremely helpful, because I'm still in such a daze over this whole thing. There are still moments that I just don't feel like talking about it! I want them to do whatever needs to be done, no questions asked. I know it's not the right approach, but that's how I feel, so having Brian with me is really a blessing. He's the one that keeps me sane, and of course...completely informed!

I was a little surprised when the Dr. ,who saw my reaction after having to listen to all the details and statistics, came close, held my hand and told me: "You're like my wife when she had breast cancer. She didn't want to hear or talk about it, she just wanted it out of her." Bingo!

Well after all the talking, he sent a nurse to come and talk to me (some more) about all the side effects that I would probably experience after the treatment. She explained step by step what they were going to do to me, she gave me 2 folders full of information and a cute tote bag to put everything in. She was very nice and friendly. She was also very thorough, so Brian didn't really have a lot to ask this time! ;-) When she was done she took me to the 3rd floor to start the treatment.

When they called me and lead me to the room, my heart just dropped.
Here I was in long shaped room packed with la-z-boy chairs, about 25 chairs total, each with an IV stand on the side, and tons of really old and middle age suffering people (many of them African Americans, since this is their downtown office) sitting miserably in them, with IVs stuck in their arms or chests. Granted they had la-z-boyz, although they were the really cheap kind, but nobody seemed to be enjoying this "luxurious comfort".

My first thought was that it looked like a very old hair salon that a lot of sick people liked to frequent in order to get their haircuts. Then I noticed 2 bald ladies, one wearing a wig and another one with a scarf, so that perception seemed pretty lame on my part.

I felt restless. Is this how I'm going to be in a few weeks? I couldn't help feeling that I really did not belong in that group. I could tell that many of the old folks were staring at me, thinking that I was too young to be there. Some would just nod their heads to let me know they understood this would be hard on me, just like it was hard on them. I could even hear whispers, but now I think that it could have been all in my head. I heard a rush of blood going to my head blurring my vision and I felt disoriented for minute or two.

The nurse that took me in probably noticed the horror in my face too.
She said: "Eeee, let's take you over to that far corner, it's more quiet and your husband can have a seat right next to you too." Thank goodness!

I ended up sitting at the very end of the room and although it was a lot better, I still could not believe what my eyes were seeing! "How could this be?"Brian said. I could tell that he felt so bad! First the paper poncho, now this. He kept apologizing to me and saying how sorry he was. He kept saying "I'm supposed to take care of you, and this is unacceptable! We'll find a different place."

It didn't take too long for both of us to realize what was wrong in this picture. Since this was their downtown office, it must "serve" patients that can only afford the less favorable health insurances, like Medicare etc.

I felt so sorry for those people, and guilty at the same time. I didn't like being treated this way, but at least I have the option to get up and say: "Are you kidding me? You call this "care"? (ironically that's also the name of the clinic!) I'll go somewhere else, and my insurance will still cover everything."

I was ashamed to realize that all those old people and working class adults, who looked so frail and were scared as much as I was, if not more, really had no other choice but to take this "care" and deal with it. No other option.
I turned to Brian and said': "You know, I only have 5 more treatments. It's not that bad. I just want to do it and be done. I really don't care what this place looks like." I think he felt a little better. I know I did.

Later though, when I went to use the restroom, we saw that down another hallway there were... "private rooms". Women with gold fingers on their fat fingers, right by their husbands in their expensive suits, peacefully reading their newspaper or talking on their Blackberries, while the IV dripped in their arms.

At first I was relieved. That's more like it! That's what I'm used to! Let's do this next time! And then it hit me again. Us and them...
Like cancer will treat us better than it treats them, because we get to be in a private room while they push poison in our veins. Malakies (take out your Greek dictionaries.)

It was a surreal experience, to say the least. It certainly was an eye opener and it made me feel quite strange.

Anyway I went back and started the IV again. A young nurse kept coming to take my vitals every 15-30 minutes. She said it's because it was my first time and they were worried about a possible allergic reaction to the medication.

Well, it did feel like there was something nasty flowing in my veins (yeah, I wonder why), but now, several hours later, I still don't have any nausea or dizziness yet, just a really bad heartburn.

They did give me 2 different medications through my IV for nausea etc. before the chemo, so I should be OK for today. If it gets worse tomorrow, my oncologist has already prescribed the same kind of medicine in pills. I'll have to take those for the next 48 hours just in case.

I feel rather tired of course and by blood pressure that's usually between 80-100, is up to 120-130 again. I know it's still withing normal range, but it's higher than my normal. My diastolic though is fine. My heart rate also went up again after the treatment. It was 74 yesterday, but it was 102 this evening.

They did checked my INR (how much time it takes for my blood to clot) which, to my dismay, had climbed up to... 5.8!! Yikes!
It should normally be between 2-3, so of course now they're afraid it might cause bleeding! They told me not to take the Coumadin (the blood thinner I've been taking since I got out of the hospital) for the next couple of days, then take only half a pill (2.5 mg) on Monday, then switch back to 5mg, then 2.5mg again and alternate the dose until Friday when they'll recheck it.

I'm supposed to call them if my fever goes over 100.5 even if it's the middle of the night. I just checked and I have 100.4, I feel chills and I'm all sweaty at the same time. I'll pretend I won't check it again until tomorrow, because I'll be asleep. ;-)

I know that if I call they'll tell me to go to the ER, and I also know exactly how it's going to be there. I'll have to wait 3-4 hours for someone to even glance my way! So, thanks but no thanks, I can sleep in my bed, get some rest, and go tomorrow, if I need to (knock, knock). I'm hoping not.

And this brings us to my other problem. How is it possible for me to be dead tired, but still can't sleep! My doctor gave me Ativan (a sedative to calm me down If I'm too anxious to sleep), but I really don't want to take it. I'm sick and tired of all the medication I have to take, but I feel I still need to give it a try. So, I'll hurry up and wrap up, read the new book I downloaded on my Kindle, a very interesting book called "Beyond Belief: The Secret Gospel of Thomas"

Hopefully I won't be too sick to write tomorrow. The warned me that the next 2 days will be the worst! This will be quite the Happy Easter!

Save me Easter Bunny!

The nasty medicine that scares hair away and other horror stories...

Brian has been calling around other hospitals, talking to breast specialists and looking for a second opinion all morning. It seems we're on the right path, so I'll start my chemo tomorrow. We'll probably see other specialists before it's time for my surgery.

I'm debating whether I should get a haircut or not. Many people who have cancer say it's easier to deal with the hair loss, if your hair is already short. I don't know. I think I want to keep my hair and bid them farewell as they go, LOL!!

Today I was explaining to Natalie that I will start taking this really nasty medicine and that my hair will not like it at all! So all the hair, all over my body, will want to escape. For as long as I take the medicine, my hair will not want to have anything to do with me and they'll stay away. When I'm done taking my medicine, they'll come back again. She thought it was pretty funny(I think it was the sound effects I made like "heeelp, I'm outta here", that did it.) Then the 2 of us started looking for hats and scarves on the Internet. She was very happy to help me choose the right ones. She's so cute!

I hope the kids won't worry too much when they see me being sick after each treatment. I try to talk about it with them, and answer all their questions. I try to make it sound that it's not such a big deal. From their reaction so far I think I've done a good job and they're going to be OK. They know what to expect, so I'm hoping it's not going to be such a big shock to them. I joke a lot about it, so David and Darian following my lead I guess, offered to give me an afro wig they bought for Halloween! I guess everybody's spirits are still high! :-)

Well, that's all for now. I'll keep you posted as more things come up.

Triple Negative - - -

Soooo, I have triple negative breast cancer after all. I feel numb, a little scared, and sad. Maybe a little angry too.

Brian and I started looking on the Internet for hours to find info. The best ones we could come up with were the John Hopkins Hospital in MD, and the Ireland Cancer Center in Cleveland.

Last Monday, right after my CAT scan, I was admitted and stayed in the hospital until Friday. I was treated for a pulmonary embolism, put on an heparin IV, a blood thinner, and now I have to take a pill for keeping my blood thin on a daily basis for the next 6 months. The clots will eventually be absorbed, but we have to make sure that I won't have any new ones pop up.

Of course all this delayed my cancer treatment for about a week. I finally went to see the oncologist this Tuesday. I really liked him. The tests for metastasis came back negative, so this is good news, but the bad news is that my cancer is a rare form of breast cancer, which unfortunately will limit my options for treatment.

The new and more successful treatments target cancers that have estrogen and progesterone receptors. Mine does not have those receptors. It's called a triple negative breast cancer, which is more aggressive and "likes" to metastasize in other areas of the body.

So it's good that I'm clear so far, but my chemo will have to be stronger to catch and hopefully eradicate any dormant cancer cells "visiting' my other organs. :-)

I'm starting my first treatment tomorrow. I expect I'll feel sick, drowsy, dizzy and tired for a couple of days after, and my next treatment will be in 3 weeks. I'll have to do a total of 6 treatments, and then have the surgery sometime in the summer.

We're still looking for a second opinion. We have contacted a great cancer research facility in Cleveland that has just started a trial for a vaccine for triple negative breast cancers. We've also talked to a few other breast specialists and they all agree on my current treatment plan. So, I guess I'll finish my chemotherapy here, and then look at my other options after that.

That's all my news for now. I'll keep you posted on how things develop here.

The Oncologist

I went to see the oncologist today. I really liked him! Many people had told me that the most important thing is to have a good relationship with your oncologist and now I can see why. Both Brian and I were very impressed with him!

I will still seek a second (and maybe even a third) opinion when it's time to make a decision about the surgery. I'm glad I still have some time to think things through. I start chemotherapy on Friday.

The doctor told me that I will have some nausea and dizziness for a couple of days after each treatment, and he gave me some medicine that will help. I'll have treatments once in three weeks and I'll have to do 6 rounds. After that, sometime this summer, I will have the surgery too.

I try to keep my spirits up. I haven't been getting much sleep lately. My doctor gave me a sedative a few days ago, so I think I might take one tonight. I'm starting to get pretty tired during the day.

The day before tomorrow

I came back home on Friday afternoon. My INR was finally within normal range (2.4) so I was discharged.

My computers did not have an Internet connection inside the hospital, so I couldn't write much, although I did keep some notes here and there.

Sally left on Saturday noon (she came late at night on Tuesday), so I really didn't have much time to see her, but I'm so grateful that she took care of the kids while I was in the hospital. It really made a difference for the kids to have her here while I was gone.

I have another appointment with my breast surgeon and my oncologist tomorrow morning, so I'm pretty sure I'll find out when I'll be starting the chemo. I try to take it easy and not get too tired. My pulse is not so high anymore (it had reached 150 on Friday and was about 120 Saturday). I don't feel so out of breath all the time, so that's a good sign.

Brian has been working from home since I got sick so he could keep an eye on things, but we're thinking of sending Natalie to a preschool when he goes back again. This way I can get some rest during the day. I'm thinking that it's going to cost us a pretty penny, but we have to make it work because I could really use some rest. It will be good for her too.

I'm not so worried about tomorrow. I just want to finally see my pathology report and face the ugly beast.