The following series of poems represents months of work through the most difficult time of my life as of yet. I wish to dedicate these poems to all the wonderful people involved in my care: the surgeons, medical oncologists, radiation oncologists, physician assistants, radiation therapists, nurses, and anyone else who has touched my world these last few months, both in private practice and at Roswell Park Memorial Institute. And to all of the cancer patients, both whom I have met personally and on the online support groups. Your strength never ceases to amaze me. Thank you to all. I couldn't begin to fully express my gratitude.
A TETRAD
It's Not Up to Him
Tell me that I can stay,
A little longer.
A life formed out of bits of thread and spilled blood
Is just a moment, a flash.
My creative clutter the only proof that I breathe.
Flesh plundered, compromised, sight unseen,
By one bad seed waiting,
For that slim circumstance
To strike and grow in a moment,
Interrupting a long-awaited dream.
We never know until we know,
We are not a given, even if we are forgiven.
I’d love to speak to that cell,
Lone invader of my own universe,
Travel the rivers and canyons of this divide,
Confront him and my swept-up fear.
To understand what he’s after,
Stealing my breath in order to live,
And perish with me.
I'd love to debrief that cell,
Make him squirm,
Will he have one noble reason?
Will I even comprehend why,
He means to use my body as his own,
Home Sweet Home,
For a little while?
I’d love to speak to that cell,
To tell him that I will stay,
A little longer.
It’s not up to him.
....................................
Ode to Awareness
Does tomorrow melt in your mouth,
Not in your hands,
Like Desire pulling you along by a taut, silken harness,
Only to nestle and caress you within the jaws of the famished world?
Do you tell your Prince to wake you later,
As you languishly linger within the folds
Of a sleep, unblemished by potion?
But, sooner than later, you will need those eyes open wide,
That breath strong and able,
Expanding and contracting for life.
Do you gaze across an open, fertile landscape,
Only to while away in longing,
For that noble Youth,
When all bitter Beauty has is these petals in her void?
All the while, the leaves rustle amongst us, calling out for Winter,
Awaiting to hear his step on the porch boards.
Do your dreams recall a listless longing,
Lying limp and open on the forest floor,
White flood rising from your cool gown,
A sad stream echoing your delirious sleep?
A cold wind blows, suddenly,
harsh and heavy upon your parched skin.
Shivering with eyes aflutter,
You think,
Perhaps, there is another way,
To conceive of this future,
Without falling through the cracks and chasms,
Of a life lived by another.
As you grasp the reins,
You navigate your way,
Slowly, ever so slowly,
Forward.
........................................
One Good Rain
All we need is one good rain
To wash these sins away.
Too bad it’s not so easy
To become clean again.
In the beginning,
There was sword and shield,
To keep us fully clothed.
Then we had witness protection,
To keep away all our foes.
Now it’s just a crapshoot,
We have nowhere to hide.
For me it’s just a walk on the beach,
But I am not too sure of the tide.
There really is no use,
I can duck in every doorjamb,
But I will always be looking backward,
A weapon filling each hand.
Protect both the chest and head
With armor reinforced.
Not once, but twice,
To withstand the force
An army of 100 men.
The battle cry sounds with a rush,
Of arrows emerging swiftly,
Over the cries of lonely voices
A raging fireball arcs,
And turns this armor to ashen dust,
This hope to smoke.
The fallen counted as we pass
Through these years
To days, not less dangerous.
It is not within the integrity of the body,
But in its own stealthiness.
We can disappear into thin air,
But still find invasion from within.
Crossing the crime of the organized
Will only leave you
With a neck forever cricked
a gaze directed behind those eyes,
A throat not quite nicked.
Night falls over the bustling bar,
A glow arises from the corner.
An enticing circle of fire emerges,
From the dimness
Beyond, the face slowly becoming visible
In the darkness.
A world alive at dusk,
A youth riveting and vibrant,
Confident in her ignorance.
A tinkle of ice as the whiskey
Flows, the smell wafts over me,
Like a banana freshly peeled,
It passes my lips like a fantasy.
That numb little confidence I love
Has entered my skin.
I coast down its river through days
And months
And eventually years
To where I am right now.
Here in this room
Whiskey long forgotten
Yet still a part of me.
Is it really
A mere cellular memory?
That’s it.
The deed is done.
I’ve unsheathed the sword,
Released my own ball of fire,
Submitted my body to flame and forge.
I’ve opened the gate to chaos,
I’ve started this holey war.
I’ve crossed the mafia cell at its own game,
And I will always be looking back.
With a crick in my neck,
A dislocated shoulder,
Waiting for that next attack.
And I owe it all to those whiskey years,
And that marvelous carelessness.
In my innocence of youth,
I had grasped a light,
That has lingered ever since.
And it’s true.
It is still near,
Burning strong and very much
Alive.
..........................................
A Perfect 84
42 years of a life,
Lived well and full,
Is not enough to wrap,
My weary arms around the world.
42 more would do,
Let’s make it symmetrical.
42 more would do very well.
My social calendar,
Is much too full.
84 years you say?
You’d be lucky.
I know.
But, 84 years in the scope of things,
Is just a drop on the great agar plate
Of the world.
84 years is all I ask,
A perfect number seemingly.
Keats got only 25,
And I’m no Keats,
That’s what I see.
We’ll call him Gabe,
My angel
Alarmed me of what’s to come.
He tapped me on the shoulder ,
Changed my curfew to some,
Night I never dreamed of,
Then changed it once again so I’d learn.
Then I knew,
That I was strong enough.
I knew when I saw you in my room,
That night, of all nights,
Mr.Gabriel.
Thank you for coming so soon.
I only wish,
That you were less frightening,
With your perfectly trimmed beard.
And eyes of clay and sinfulness,
Here on hallowed ground, so rare.
We are less earthy than you think,
Bring your white robes, I don’t care.
But I forgive you, Gabriel,
Your message was loud and clear:
These hands have more,
Comfort to give.
This left hand more to write.
This right hand more peace to share,
With those I encounter each night.
This hair much more,
Than vanity,
A frank expression of who I am.
This brain to compute and rationalize,
My relation to earth as it stands.
These eyes,
They are a window,
To a soul,
Not clean, but bright.
These bulky arms,
Which I lament,
Have held my child so tight.
These ears to listen caringly,
To those whom need me most.
This mouth with which to kiss goodnight,
All those whom are not lost.
These teeth to chew
The chocolate, most delicious and so fine.
This nose to smell the springtime air,
As it wispily leaves the vine.
This neck,
To accept,
Kisses and caresses,
All the same.
These shoulders
To shoulder the gardening,
Creating life along the way.
These breasts create a line,
From me to my
Beloved and his stare.
My waist encompassed by those arms
Who really, truly care.
My hips contain my power,
Of life and femininity.
Those thighs that I wish smaller,
Have gotten me from sea to sea.
These old calves are
Not so bad,
But shaving them gets routine.
My feet, oh my woeful feet,
You can kiss them,
But not this week.
My heart,
I save the best for last,
It holds so many dear.
Although I may not express myself,
Hear me loud and clear.
84 years,
Almost a century,
Of life to give and share,
This body with the great wide world,
I’ll do it, if you dare.
Knowing that I love you all,
Sleep silently,
Knowing that I care,
And never for a minute dream
Of when you will not be here.
Leave that worry all to me,
I’ve seen it all before.
To me it’s just a path I’m on,
And I’ve just opened the great big door.
This is my one wish for you,
Life can be so unfair.
For I have people looking out for me,
Some white dove--down here, up there.
Oh No! I’ve lost my shoes again,
Radiation is a bear.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
I Keep Chipping Away
I've been working on a series of poems about breast cancer for months now. Writing, rewriting, and finding my muse in many places that I never even thought to look. This particular poem caused me many nights of lost sleep and moments of frustration, and the members of my writing group, who watched me as I brought a new version in each week, can attest to this. I was initially inspired by the Chronicles of Narnia exhibit at the Buffalo Museum of Science. I began reflecting on this idea of children at war and how perhaps we have some kind of innate strength that is present, even since birth. I used the idea of light as a symbol of my own strength, from which I was able to tap into many times over the last 6 months. This poem lay in its beginning stages for at least a couple months until one night, inspiration came to me. The title came to me in a half asleep-half awake state, after throwing off my blankets in the heat. I pictured a computer file labeled with the title One Good Rain, and I began to write and eventually finish this poem in this state of "in-between" consciousness. As I coast through my last few radiation treatments, I am very happy to present to you my latest literary creation and to say that the series is,at long last, complete.
One Good Rain
All we need is one good rain
To wash these sins away.
Too bad it’s not so easy
To become clean again.
In the beginning,
There was sword and shield,
To keep us fully clothed.
Then we had witness protection,
To keep away all our foes.
Now it’s just a crapshoot,
We have nowhere to hide.
For me it’s just a walk on the beach,
But I am not too sure of the tide.
There really is no use,
I can duck in every doorjamb,
But I will always be looking backward,
A weapon filling each hand.
Protect both the chest and head
With armor reinforced.
Not once, but twice,
To withstand the force
An army of 100 men.
The battle cry sounds with a rush,
Of arrows emerging swiftly,
Over the cries of lonely voices
A raging fireball arcs,
And turns this armor to ashen dust,
This hope to smoke.
The fallen counted as we pass
Through these years
To days, not less dangerous.
It is not within the integrity of the body,
But in its own stealthiness.
We can disappear into thin air,
But still find invasion from within.
Crossing the crime of the organized
Will only leave you
With a neck forever cricked
a gaze directed behind those eyes,
A throat not quite nicked.
Night falls over the bustling bar,
A glow arises from the corner.
An enticing circle of fire emerges,
From the dimness
Beyond, the face slowly becoming visible
In the darkness.
A world alive at dusk,
A youth riveting and vibrant,
Confident in her ignorance.
A tinkle of ice as the whiskey
Flows, the smell wafts over me,
Like a banana freshly peeled,
It passes my lips like a fantasy.
That numb little confidence I love
Has entered my skin.
I coast down its river through days
And months
And eventually years
To where I am right now.
Here in this room
Whiskey long forgotten
Yet still a part of me.
Is it really
A mere cellular memory?
That’s it.
The deed is done.
I’ve unsheathed the sword,
Released my own ball of fire,
Submitted my body to flame and forge.
I’ve opened the gate to chaos,
I’ve started this holey war.
I’ve crossed the mafia cell at its own game,
And I will always be looking back.
With a crick in my neck,
A dislocated shoulder,
Waiting for that next attack.
And I owe it all to those whiskey years,
And that marvelous carelessness.
In my innocence of youth,
I had grasped a light,
That has lingered ever since.
And it’s true.
It is still near,
Burning strong and very much
Alive.
One Good Rain
All we need is one good rain
To wash these sins away.
Too bad it’s not so easy
To become clean again.
In the beginning,
There was sword and shield,
To keep us fully clothed.
Then we had witness protection,
To keep away all our foes.
Now it’s just a crapshoot,
We have nowhere to hide.
For me it’s just a walk on the beach,
But I am not too sure of the tide.
There really is no use,
I can duck in every doorjamb,
But I will always be looking backward,
A weapon filling each hand.
Protect both the chest and head
With armor reinforced.
Not once, but twice,
To withstand the force
An army of 100 men.
The battle cry sounds with a rush,
Of arrows emerging swiftly,
Over the cries of lonely voices
A raging fireball arcs,
And turns this armor to ashen dust,
This hope to smoke.
The fallen counted as we pass
Through these years
To days, not less dangerous.
It is not within the integrity of the body,
But in its own stealthiness.
We can disappear into thin air,
But still find invasion from within.
Crossing the crime of the organized
Will only leave you
With a neck forever cricked
a gaze directed behind those eyes,
A throat not quite nicked.
Night falls over the bustling bar,
A glow arises from the corner.
An enticing circle of fire emerges,
From the dimness
Beyond, the face slowly becoming visible
In the darkness.
A world alive at dusk,
A youth riveting and vibrant,
Confident in her ignorance.
A tinkle of ice as the whiskey
Flows, the smell wafts over me,
Like a banana freshly peeled,
It passes my lips like a fantasy.
That numb little confidence I love
Has entered my skin.
I coast down its river through days
And months
And eventually years
To where I am right now.
Here in this room
Whiskey long forgotten
Yet still a part of me.
Is it really
A mere cellular memory?
That’s it.
The deed is done.
I’ve unsheathed the sword,
Released my own ball of fire,
Submitted my body to flame and forge.
I’ve opened the gate to chaos,
I’ve started this holey war.
I’ve crossed the mafia cell at its own game,
And I will always be looking back.
With a crick in my neck,
A dislocated shoulder,
Waiting for that next attack.
And I owe it all to those whiskey years,
And that marvelous carelessness.
In my innocence of youth,
I had grasped a light,
That has lingered ever since.
And it’s true.
It is still near,
Burning strong and very much
Alive.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
A Mother's Day Wish: A Poem by Me
"Poetry is a record of the life around us and in us, and you'll get a better idea from poetry what it was like to be alive in 2011 than you will from the New York Times." ~Garrison Keillor
If this is so, I only hope my own poetry can live up to the task. This poem was written this week, May 2011:
A Perfect 84
42 years of a life,
Lived well and full,
Is not enough to wrap,
My weary arms around the world.
42 more would do,
Let’s make it symmetrical.
42 more would do very well.
My social calendar,
Is much too full.
84 years you say?
You’d be lucky.
I know.
But, 84 years in the scope of things,
Is just a drop on the great agar plate
Of the world.
84 years is all I ask,
A perfect number seemingly.
Keats got only 25,
And I’m no Keats,
That’s what I see.
We’ll call him Gabe,
My angel
Alarmed me of what’s to come.
He tapped me on the shoulder ,
Changed my curfew to some,
Night I never dreamed of,
Then changed it once again so I’d learn.
Then I knew,
That I was strong enough.
I knew when I saw you in my room,
That night, of all nights,
Mr.Gabriel.
Thank you for coming so soon.
I only wish,
That you were less frightening,
With your perfectly trimmed beard.
And eyes of clay and sinfulness,
Here on hallowed ground, so rare.
We are less earthy than you think,
Bring your white robes, I don’t care.
But I forgive you, Gabriel,
Your message was loud and clear:
These hands have more,
Comfort to give.
This left hand more to write.
This right hand more peace to share,
With those I encounter each night.
This hair much more,
Than vanity,
A frank expression of who I am.
This brain to compute and rationalize,
My relation to earth as it stands.
These eyes,
They are a window,
To a soul,
Not clean, but bright.
These bulky arms,
Which I lament,
Have held my child so tight.
These ears to listen caringly,
To those whom need me most.
This mouth with which to kiss goodnight,
All those whom are not lost.
These teeth to chew
The chocolate, most delicious and so fine.
This nose to smell the springtime air,
As it wispily leaves the vine.
This neck,
To accept,
Kisses and caresses,
All the same.
These shoulders
To shoulder the gardening,
Creating life along the way.
These breasts create a line,
From me to my
Beloved and his stare.
My waist encompassed by those arms
Who really, truly care.
My hips contain my power,
Of life and femininity.
Those thighs that I wish smaller,
Have gotten me from sea to sea.
These old calves are
Not so bad,
But shaving them gets routine.
My feet, oh my woeful feet,
You can kiss them,
But not this week.
My heart,
I save the best for last,
It holds so many dear.
Although I may not express myself,
Hear me loud and clear.
84 years,
Almost a century,
Of life to give and share,
This body with the great wide world,
I’ll do it, if you dare.
Knowing that I love you all,
Sleep silently,
Knowing that I care,
And never for a minute dream
Of when you will not be here.
Leave that worry all to me,
I’ve seen it all before.
To me it’s just a path I’m on,
And I’ve just opened the great big door.
This is my one wish for you,
Life can be so unfair.
For I have people looking out for me,
Some white dove--down here, up there.
Oh No! I’ve lost my shoes again,
Radiation is a bear.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Part 2: A Room with a View, The 1986 Merchant-Ivory Film
 |
| Lucy Honeychurch looking out over Florence from her "Room with a View" |
 |
| Julian Sands as George Emerson |
 |
| Daniel day Lewis as Cecil Vyse |
Daniel Day Lewis plays the character of Cecil Vyse, the passionless, reserved fiance of Lucy. He reminds me of a cold impenetrable marble statue both in demeanor and personality. Daniel Day Lewis is spectacular in this role. Lucy Honeychurch is the main character whom the novel revolves around. She is played by Helena Bonham-Carter, whom we have seen more recently as the young Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother in The King's Speech. Lucy is as compassionate as Cecil is sneering, as soft as Cecil is hard. She is an accomplished pianist who, before she undergoes her trans-formative period, puts all her passion into her music. As Mr. Beebe, the clergyman in the church in Windy Corner (Lucy's home), states, "If Miss Honeychurch ever takes to live as she plays-it will be very excited-both for us and for her." With this statement, we are offered a glimpse of what is to come as the film progresses and unfolds. Lucy's music exposes the real Lucy, the genuine side of her just waiting to come out and be known.
Julian Sands plays the character of George Emerson, "silent George", a man ignorant of propriety but not of happiness, nor Fate itself. Through clandestine meetings, Lucy and George begin to fall in love. George recognizes this, but Lucy refuses to acknowledge the feelings she has for George. George is both sultry and innocent at the same time. He is bold and unafraid to show his passion and to believe in what he feels.
The most important chapter of the novel is aptly named The Twelfth Chapter and this Merchant Ivory Production really does this chapter a good amount of justice. I think Forster had highlighted this particular chapter because it exhibits exactly what Forster is attempting to achieve with this novel. Freddy, and George meet here, along with Mr. Beebe, and all three decide to spend the afternoon at the "Sacred Lake", the village pond mostly secluded by all but those who happen to pass through the woods. The three men become naked and almost immediately natural, without any sign of civilization and polite society to hold them back. They throw their clothes around in play as to show that this is what they think of society and its trappings. I might also add this scene contains a shocking amount of male frontal nudity, which really is all right by me. There is too much female-centric nudity in film these days. I wanted to pull a quote from the novel that really fits with this scene:
 |
| Lucy and Cecil at the Sacred Lake |
 |
| Lucy and George in Florence |
I love how James Ivory is able to exhibit this idea of nature and civilization clashing throughout this film. We see Cecil in one scene smoking inside the house gazing at Lucy who is running back from tennis, all flushed with the fresh air, exercise, and passionate feelings toward George. In another, Cecil is taking Lucy, her mother, and Charlotte for a walk past the Sacred Lake while the three men are playing naked. Now this is a hysterical scene! Cecil is not one of the "natural" men. He is "one of the ladies" trying to defend them from the men, clearing a path in the brush so they do not have to directly walk past the lake. In another scene, Cecil is annoyed by Freddy's humorous, very "middle class", singing at the piano, so is forced outside into the unknown natural world because he prefers this to being with the lower classes.
To conclude, I will leave you with another quote from the novel:
"Yes, we fight for more than Love or Pleasure, there is Truth. Truth counts, Truth does count."
The 1986 film version of A Room with a View is available for immediate viewing on Netflix. I hope you will consider my recommendation and watch it for yourself.
This film gets a perfect 5 stars from me.
Monday, May 2, 2011
How Did I Get Here?
Life isn't about perfection, and I am telling you this from the position of a person going through treatments for breast cancer, so you have to believe I am sincere when I say this. In fact, I myself prefer life messy. It is not a sin to be human-to have, feelings, emotions, imperfections, humanity. We all struggle to survive in our own way, with our own individuals ideas of what true happiness is. We each run out of time, experience heartache, illness, and grief, feel distress, loneliness, and betrayal. To be human is to a be a being with the need to love and be loved in all its inevitable pain and emotional upheaval. But, we also need to be happy and without love, happiness is an impossibility. As happiness comes out of love, so Beauty comes out of happiness. Not just normal everyday beauty, but Beauty with an enormous capital "B".
The definition of "beauty" has been twisted over the years. Beauty is not what you see on the cover of Glamour magazine, in the make-up aisle, in the look of the "celebrity of the day", or even in the most beautiful woman/man in the world. It may be within this person, but Beauty, true Beauty, is not superficial. Beauty is something that you see within someone, through their actions, expressions, way of being. Beauty can also be seen between people, whether they are lovers, family, friends, or even strangers meeting for the first time. People who "fit" in some way. Beauty is in Nature-within its power, its synergy. Nature is true to itself and holds no airs or propriety. Beauty can also be created in art of any form. It just needs to be true and hold no pretense. So, when something is true to itself or him/herself, then Beauty can be found here. Perhaps it's true what Keats wrote in his poem "Ode on a Grecian Urn" from 1819:
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
I believe when we deny happiness and refuse to follow our heart where it leads us, we commit a true sin against ourselves and against Beauty. I have always felt this way, just not in a conscious way. More like a little seed inside of me waiting for the chance to sprout. In this, E. M. Forster was my water and sunshine. He helped me to understand this ideal Beauty, leading me away from superficiality. Somewhere around 1990, I happened to discover the 1986 film A Room with a View, completely by chance. It was playing on the television when I was living with my parents. My parents each had their own TV (actually they each had their own living room due to a general dislike of each other), but I do remember seeing this movie on my father's TV in my father's "room". In my youth, my father, in his own way, tried to introduce me to great literature. I remember him buying me a nice leather bound edition of Daphne du Maurier's Jamaica Inn and urging me to read it. I don't think I ever got past the first couple chapters. Actually, I probably should look up that book and read it with my more "adult" eyes and see what I think about it. I did love Rebecca, her more well-known novel. My father wasn't a huge reader of fiction, but he did have a library of books, more of a scientific bent to them though. He had many books on science, nature, and history, typical of a high school science teacher. I do think I remember seeing a little Dickens there, though. My father was a very unique individual, kind of an aloof intellectual, but with a very mercurial streak and a very physical bent. He loved sports and was always coaching one sport or another. As I grow older, I realize more and more how like him I have become (minus the sports). My temper does flair quite often, and I'm surrounded by the books that I love, just of a different sort.
From what I remember of high school, a public high school I might add, was that books and literature were things to be got through and completed, kind of like a chore. Hopefully, this has changed in public school today, but somehow I sense that it has not. So, my appreciation didn't blossom for a while. I was a true late bloomer in life. My happening on this film at the age of 22 was pure serendipity for me. It was one of the defining moments of my life. "A Room with a View" puts into both words and images my own thoughts and philosophical beliefs that I had held close all along. The film also gave me an appreciation for art, both good and bad, and art's power. It allowed my mind to open and expand, to include those people beyond my own scope and very limited society.
I ended up taking my first university level English course in the Fall of 1994. I had graduated in 1991 with a Bachelors degree in Clinical Laboratory Science and was working in a lab at the time, but knew that this was not my future as it was intended. My father had hoped that I would attend medical school, but unfortunately, my strengths did not lie in science and math. My grades were not med school worthy (a B average) and my emotional makeup was not condusive to getting up close and personal with the human body. In fact, the whole idea of having to take gross anatomy scared me away from most of the health fields available to the coursework I had already taken. I ended up in the laboratory when everything else had been ruled out. A great way to start a life.
I enrolled in a course called The Romantic Movement offered by the English department at the University of Buffalo. And I won't lie to you, it was tough. I read the poems of Keats, Wordsworth, Shelley, and Coleridge with relish and to the best of my ability at the time, but could not write a proper English paper no matter how hard I tried. It would take years for me to try to do this, but I did and can and now find that I am actually really good at it. Who would have thought? As I am sitting down finalizing my coursework for the Fall to finally, at long last, complete my Masters degree in English, I realized something of profound importance. E. M. Forster opened the doors to a world I had never known existed. Those few moments in my four-decade-long life, watching cable on my father's massive medieval-style console TV, sitting on the burnt orange wall-to-wall carpet, were the beginnings of the biggest turning point of my life.
And I have Mr. Forster and his contribution to the great tradition of literature to thank for it.
Stay tuned tomorrow for more on the film A Room with a View, directed by James Ivory in 1986.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
A Test of Patience: My Very Personal Journey Through Triple Negative Breast Cancer
From everything you have heard about breast cancer, from the risk factors to treatment to prognosis, you are probably not getting the complete picture. There are many different types of breast cancer, and most women are lucky (well, if you could call anyone with cancer lucky) to get the most common form, estrogen positive breast cancer. This most common form coincides with all the typical risk factors, such as early menses, late childbirth, late menopause, hormone replacement, or anything that would increase your lifetime exposure to estrogen. Prognosis is good if caught relatively early (Stage 1 or 2) and there are all sorts of treatments available because it is easy (well, again, easy in the scope of breast cancer treatments) to reduce estrogen in the body.
With triple negative cancer, everything you thought was true now isn’t. This cancer has no hormone receptors, which means that we have no clue how it grows. We have only known about this cancer for a few years, but researchers are working frantically on trying to understand what exactly makes it grow and what risk factors are causing it. There are a few groups who have a tendency to get triple negative breast cancer: African Americans, Hispanics, Ashkenazi Jews, and young pre-menopausal women with positive BRCA mutations. Obesity has found to be something that triggers it, along with a high fat diet. A recent study was just published saying that those who have had no children have the lowest risk of developing triple negative breast cancer, while those who have had more than 3 children are at the highest risk. Pregnancy seems to spark the growth of this type of cancer. African American women have the highest death rates from breast cancer because they are getting more triple negative cancer, and since most African American women are less likely to get their yearly mammograms, their cancer is found too late, usually when a lump is found and at this point, it is much too late. It is a very sad fact for some women that they don’t have access to health care and must be made to suffer for it.
The main difference between triple negative and estrogen positive breast cancer is that triple negative is highly aggressive and is much more likely to metastasize, and it metastasizes fast, usually 1-3 years after diagnosis. Once it does metastasize, the patient is usually given only 9 months to live because it usually goes right to the bones. Estrogen positive breast cancers are less aggressive and take longer to metastasize, therefore most tumors would not need chemotherapy unless very large. Also, there is a drug called tamoxifen to hold it at bay. For triple negative breast cancer, there is no such drug. So, for those with tumors greater than 5 mm., chemotherapy would be considered in that chance that those metastasizing cells would take route somewhere far from the breast. Even so, chemotherapy is more effective in triple negative cancers, but not 100%. There are those who fall through the cracks, trying everything and ending up dying anyhow.
Good news is that there is a tidal wave of research being done right now on different markers, enzymes, and inhibitors that might play a role in its growth. Adding this to the increased emphasis on yearly mammograms and genetic testing, these tumors are found sooner, like in my case. Another good thing is that they are less likely to recur after 5 years, unlike its estrogen positive counterpart. So, once it is killed the first time, you are unlikely to see it ever again.
In my case, my tumor was found accidentally. When I had my yearly mammogram in December, they found some calcifications which are a warning sign of DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma In Situ), a form of breast cancer completely confined by the duct and not able to go anywhere else. I had my first lumpectomy in January to remove the area of DCIS and within this area, they found a 3 mm tumor. This never happens. Triple negative tumors are very rarely found this small because they would not be felt or seen on mammogram. I am so, so lucky and have found that there are not many women like me in the world (I’ve been going onto breast cancer discussion boards to reach out to anyone out there and have only found a handful). Plus, what is even more puzzling is that I am not Black, Hispanic, Jewish, and I did not test positive for genetic testing. The only risk factor I had was obesity. Since cancer is a great motivator, I have lost 30 pounds so far. My doctor wants me to get down to the bottom of my weight range, so I have at least 30 more to go-my own personal form of chemo. also, my diet should be no more than 20% fat, which is even harder ot accomplish than weight loss.
Well, the day I received my pathology results was the day I got on the worst rollercoaster ride in the world (and I usually love rollercoasters!). I went from having a Stage 0 breast cancer to a Stage 1a triple negative breast cancer. At first, I thought I would need chemo and mastectomy. I ordered up my wigs and hats and got ready. Then I was sent for a second opinion at a large cancer institute and found that chemo isn’t considered until the tumor is 6 mm, and they said I shouldn’t need a mastectomy. I quickly cancelled my surgery date, then had a third opinion to be sure.
So, here I am today. A week after my re-excision (which was completely pain free, by the way) and I am happy to say that my second pathology report says that there were no abnormal cells found! My surgeon explained to me that my body killed all the cancer cells that were left in the process of healing and inflammation from the surgery. So, I get to keep my breast and will be starting 7 weeks and 1 day radiation next week. I am getting off this crazy rollercoaster and am ready to get on with my life. My only hope is that I never have to look breast cancer in the eye again because if I do and it is triple negative breast cancer, it won’t be so easy the second time. That said, I will be welcoming my radiation treatments with open arms. I will rejoice in all of it, the burning, blistering, and fatigue and anything else that comes up, because I will know that those little bastards will burn, and burn, and burn. So, bring it on! I am ready.
By the way, there are all kinds of journeys and most are exciting and new. This is one journey I did not want to be on.
Sincerely yours,
The Wingchair Traveller
p.s. Just a note to those of you who are visiting my blog for the first time and are on your own journey through breast cancer. Please peruse my recent posts because there may be some things that I have written that will touch and inspire you as you go through all the emotion and turmoil that only cancer can bring us. Also, don't be afraid to comment on any of my posts to share your own stories. I'd love to hear them!
With triple negative cancer, everything you thought was true now isn’t. This cancer has no hormone receptors, which means that we have no clue how it grows. We have only known about this cancer for a few years, but researchers are working frantically on trying to understand what exactly makes it grow and what risk factors are causing it. There are a few groups who have a tendency to get triple negative breast cancer: African Americans, Hispanics, Ashkenazi Jews, and young pre-menopausal women with positive BRCA mutations. Obesity has found to be something that triggers it, along with a high fat diet. A recent study was just published saying that those who have had no children have the lowest risk of developing triple negative breast cancer, while those who have had more than 3 children are at the highest risk. Pregnancy seems to spark the growth of this type of cancer. African American women have the highest death rates from breast cancer because they are getting more triple negative cancer, and since most African American women are less likely to get their yearly mammograms, their cancer is found too late, usually when a lump is found and at this point, it is much too late. It is a very sad fact for some women that they don’t have access to health care and must be made to suffer for it.
The main difference between triple negative and estrogen positive breast cancer is that triple negative is highly aggressive and is much more likely to metastasize, and it metastasizes fast, usually 1-3 years after diagnosis. Once it does metastasize, the patient is usually given only 9 months to live because it usually goes right to the bones. Estrogen positive breast cancers are less aggressive and take longer to metastasize, therefore most tumors would not need chemotherapy unless very large. Also, there is a drug called tamoxifen to hold it at bay. For triple negative breast cancer, there is no such drug. So, for those with tumors greater than 5 mm., chemotherapy would be considered in that chance that those metastasizing cells would take route somewhere far from the breast. Even so, chemotherapy is more effective in triple negative cancers, but not 100%. There are those who fall through the cracks, trying everything and ending up dying anyhow.
Good news is that there is a tidal wave of research being done right now on different markers, enzymes, and inhibitors that might play a role in its growth. Adding this to the increased emphasis on yearly mammograms and genetic testing, these tumors are found sooner, like in my case. Another good thing is that they are less likely to recur after 5 years, unlike its estrogen positive counterpart. So, once it is killed the first time, you are unlikely to see it ever again.
In my case, my tumor was found accidentally. When I had my yearly mammogram in December, they found some calcifications which are a warning sign of DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma In Situ), a form of breast cancer completely confined by the duct and not able to go anywhere else. I had my first lumpectomy in January to remove the area of DCIS and within this area, they found a 3 mm tumor. This never happens. Triple negative tumors are very rarely found this small because they would not be felt or seen on mammogram. I am so, so lucky and have found that there are not many women like me in the world (I’ve been going onto breast cancer discussion boards to reach out to anyone out there and have only found a handful). Plus, what is even more puzzling is that I am not Black, Hispanic, Jewish, and I did not test positive for genetic testing. The only risk factor I had was obesity. Since cancer is a great motivator, I have lost 30 pounds so far. My doctor wants me to get down to the bottom of my weight range, so I have at least 30 more to go-my own personal form of chemo. also, my diet should be no more than 20% fat, which is even harder ot accomplish than weight loss.
Well, the day I received my pathology results was the day I got on the worst rollercoaster ride in the world (and I usually love rollercoasters!). I went from having a Stage 0 breast cancer to a Stage 1a triple negative breast cancer. At first, I thought I would need chemo and mastectomy. I ordered up my wigs and hats and got ready. Then I was sent for a second opinion at a large cancer institute and found that chemo isn’t considered until the tumor is 6 mm, and they said I shouldn’t need a mastectomy. I quickly cancelled my surgery date, then had a third opinion to be sure.
So, here I am today. A week after my re-excision (which was completely pain free, by the way) and I am happy to say that my second pathology report says that there were no abnormal cells found! My surgeon explained to me that my body killed all the cancer cells that were left in the process of healing and inflammation from the surgery. So, I get to keep my breast and will be starting 7 weeks and 1 day radiation next week. I am getting off this crazy rollercoaster and am ready to get on with my life. My only hope is that I never have to look breast cancer in the eye again because if I do and it is triple negative breast cancer, it won’t be so easy the second time. That said, I will be welcoming my radiation treatments with open arms. I will rejoice in all of it, the burning, blistering, and fatigue and anything else that comes up, because I will know that those little bastards will burn, and burn, and burn. So, bring it on! I am ready.
By the way, there are all kinds of journeys and most are exciting and new. This is one journey I did not want to be on.
Sincerely yours,
The Wingchair Traveller
p.s. Just a note to those of you who are visiting my blog for the first time and are on your own journey through breast cancer. Please peruse my recent posts because there may be some things that I have written that will touch and inspire you as you go through all the emotion and turmoil that only cancer can bring us. Also, don't be afraid to comment on any of my posts to share your own stories. I'd love to hear them!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Me and My Shadow
A shadow has passed over me lately, blocking my sun. That shadow has a name that we all dread to hear--cancer. This shadow isn't necessarily the shadow of death per se, but the presence of my own mortality coming to the forefront, becoming a real possibility. Most of us put our own mortality into a deep pocket inside our minds that we sometimes dare to open in rare moments of introspection, but most of the time, to most of us, time is boundless and, sadly, for most of us, true happiness is just out of reach, but always a possibility, to be achieved in the future, sometime.
When we are faced with our own mortality, happiness is something that we need to reach out and grab immediately. There is no time to wait and hope anymore. All those trivial things in life fall away. Even when observing everyone else going about their lives as usual, we stand by in disbelief about the truly petty concerns of others, like those unwanted wrinkles or those last stubborn five pounds. Within this passing shadow, a strong, clear light begins to shine on our lives-clarifying things, brightening things, exposing the truth behind all the fiction and unimportant concerns. My shadow has given me a sense of peace, a need for serenity. I appreciate things so much more now. I truly cherish my family and friends and love their unwavering presence at this time when I need them the most. I think twice before getting angry or annoyed now, or sinking into a state of passivity. The passionate, forward-moving side of me has been activated. Even writing now seems senseless, but of course only superficially, when there is so much more I could be accomplishing out in the world, people out there who need my help or guidance in some way. I now want to reach out and touch as many as I can.
I sometimes wonder if my cancer is just a side effect of my passivity-my inability to take action, to pay attention to my own power, my God-given potential and spirit, the power within my own body to be the best that I can be. To be honest, my own insecurities and anxieties have held me back in a way, so my life at home has become my safe haven away from potential hurt or fear. But, nice as it is to be at home away from the hustle and bustle of life, it has only given me the opportunity to hide within a shell of my own making. I've always believed I was merely simplifying life by leaving it to take care of my family, but my family really doesn't need that much care. My family needs ME--my presence, my energy, my potential, my strength, not my availability. It is time for me to move forward, get out into the big world, start breathing again. My cancer has woken me up from my reverie, enabling me to live a life of my dreams. Anything is possible now.
When I first found out that I have cancer, I thought, "Why me?". Now I see it as "Why not me?". I am human after all. And for someone who has never quite fit in, I now feel more a part of the human experience of striving and rising to our fullest potential. Life isn't about our own death. Let's face it. We don't get to witness the aftermath. Life is about what we do with our lives while we are here, right up until that last moment when we finally have to leave.
When we are faced with our own mortality, happiness is something that we need to reach out and grab immediately. There is no time to wait and hope anymore. All those trivial things in life fall away. Even when observing everyone else going about their lives as usual, we stand by in disbelief about the truly petty concerns of others, like those unwanted wrinkles or those last stubborn five pounds. Within this passing shadow, a strong, clear light begins to shine on our lives-clarifying things, brightening things, exposing the truth behind all the fiction and unimportant concerns. My shadow has given me a sense of peace, a need for serenity. I appreciate things so much more now. I truly cherish my family and friends and love their unwavering presence at this time when I need them the most. I think twice before getting angry or annoyed now, or sinking into a state of passivity. The passionate, forward-moving side of me has been activated. Even writing now seems senseless, but of course only superficially, when there is so much more I could be accomplishing out in the world, people out there who need my help or guidance in some way. I now want to reach out and touch as many as I can.
I sometimes wonder if my cancer is just a side effect of my passivity-my inability to take action, to pay attention to my own power, my God-given potential and spirit, the power within my own body to be the best that I can be. To be honest, my own insecurities and anxieties have held me back in a way, so my life at home has become my safe haven away from potential hurt or fear. But, nice as it is to be at home away from the hustle and bustle of life, it has only given me the opportunity to hide within a shell of my own making. I've always believed I was merely simplifying life by leaving it to take care of my family, but my family really doesn't need that much care. My family needs ME--my presence, my energy, my potential, my strength, not my availability. It is time for me to move forward, get out into the big world, start breathing again. My cancer has woken me up from my reverie, enabling me to live a life of my dreams. Anything is possible now.
When I first found out that I have cancer, I thought, "Why me?". Now I see it as "Why not me?". I am human after all. And for someone who has never quite fit in, I now feel more a part of the human experience of striving and rising to our fullest potential. Life isn't about our own death. Let's face it. We don't get to witness the aftermath. Life is about what we do with our lives while we are here, right up until that last moment when we finally have to leave.
Friday, January 14, 2011
A Re-Posting of Some Poems from October
I've been a little scared to write lately. And you'll see why when I re-post these poems written at the end of October, before I had any clue I had cancer. What it all means, I'm not sure, but this isn't the first time this has happened to me, both in my writing and in dreams that have turned out to be prophetic in someway. This first poem is called "Tell Me". Perhaps I was asking to be told about this cancer? Well, if I was, my prayers were answered..
Flesh plundered, compromised, sight unseen,
_________________________________________________
Tell me that I can stay,
A little longer.
A life formed out of bits of thread and spilled blood
Is just a moment, a flash.
My creative clutter the only proof that I breathe.
By one bad seed waiting,
For that slim circumstance
To strike and grow in a moment,
Interrupting a long-awaited dream.
We never know until we know,
We are not a given, even if we are forgiven.
I’d love to speak to that cell,
Lone invader of my own universe,
Travel the rivers and canyons of this divide,
Confront him and my swept-up fear.
To understand what he’s after,
Stealing my breath in order to live,
And perish with me.
I'd love to debrief that cell,
Make him squirm,
Will he have one noble reason?
Will I even comprehend why,
He means to use my body as his own,
Home Sweet Home,
For a little while?
I’d love to speak to that cell,
To tell him that I will stay,
And he will go,
And he will go,
It’s not up to him.
On Awareness: A Plea
Does tomorrow melt in your mouth,
Not in your hands,
Like Desire pulling you along by a taut, silken harness,
Only to nestle and caress you within the jaws of the famished world?
Do you tell your Prince to wake you later,
As you languishly linger within the folds
Of a sleep, unblemished by potion?
But, sooner than later, you will need those eyes open wide,
That breath strong and able,
Expanding and contracting for life.
Do you gaze across an open, fertile landscape,
Only to while away in longing,
For that noble Youth,
When all bitter Beauty has is these petals in her void?
All the while, the leaves rustle amongst us, calling out for Winter,
Awaiting to hear his step on the porch boards.
Do your dreams recall a listless longing,
Lying limp and open on the forest floor,
White flood rising from your cool gown,
A sad stream echoing your delirious sleep?
A cold wind blows, suddenly,
harsh and heavy upon your parched skin.
Shivering with eyes aflutter,
You think,
Perhaps, there is another way,
To conceive of this future,
Without falling through the cracks and chasms,
Of a life lived by another.
As you grasp the reins,
You navigate your way,
Slowly, ever so slowly,
Forward.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Latest News: The Good and the Bad
So, which do you want first? Good news or bad news? Well, I always like to concentrate on the good, so I will start with that. I have been accepted into graduate school at the University of Buffalo. Yaaay! It has been something I have been working on for at least the last couple of years, and the effort finally paid off. I am not starting this spring as planned, though. I am pushing it back to the Fall due to my "bad news".
I have just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Yes, breast cancer at the age of 42. I have gotten over the shock of it all after three weeks or so of ruminating about it. I count myself as VERY lucky. They caught it on a routine mammogram with no symptoms and, although I won't know for sure until my lumpectomy, it is most probably Stage 0. In other words, it looks as though it is still confined and not spreading anywhere. They used to consider this a pre-cancerous tumor, but they have changed their approach and are now calling this cancer. I will either need radiation or a mastectomy. I am definitely feeling better about it all, thus I am now able to write about it. I will be having surgery next week and will know more then. I figured I needed to get this off my chest and explain to all my followers why I have been very absent lately. I was on a roll with my writing too! Oh well, sometimes life throws us curve balls and we just have to adapt and change accordingly.
I have a very important message to all of you out there. If you are a woman, get your mammograms as soon as you are able because they need to find the cancer BEFORE symptoms appear. That means every year after 40, or before 40 if you have cancer in your family. To the men, if you have a lady in your life, urge her to keep up with her mammograms as well. I am so thankful that I started mine at 39 and have been up on them every year. They found it as soon as they could. Please don't listen to the insurance companies' recommendations of starting after 50! They have ulterior motives. And, by the way, there is no breast cancer in my family, I am pretty darn healthy (never smoked and drink only occasionally), eat mostly organic and try to live as healthfully as possible.
So, now that I have that off my chest, I want you all to know that I am still here, working diligently on my diet and exercise routine, and plan to be a better person when all is said and done. Sometimes it takes a scare to force a person out of complaisance, and I see my cancer as a warning. I do know that what I have been doing with my blog is the right thing and I wish to continue in the future. I am also excited about returning to school and continuing my research on Austen, Gaskell, and Forster and the relationship of their writing to the architecture and decor of the time. If you don't see me much over the next few weeks, it's because I am busy with my health, but, count on it, I will return.
I have just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Yes, breast cancer at the age of 42. I have gotten over the shock of it all after three weeks or so of ruminating about it. I count myself as VERY lucky. They caught it on a routine mammogram with no symptoms and, although I won't know for sure until my lumpectomy, it is most probably Stage 0. In other words, it looks as though it is still confined and not spreading anywhere. They used to consider this a pre-cancerous tumor, but they have changed their approach and are now calling this cancer. I will either need radiation or a mastectomy. I am definitely feeling better about it all, thus I am now able to write about it. I will be having surgery next week and will know more then. I figured I needed to get this off my chest and explain to all my followers why I have been very absent lately. I was on a roll with my writing too! Oh well, sometimes life throws us curve balls and we just have to adapt and change accordingly.
I have a very important message to all of you out there. If you are a woman, get your mammograms as soon as you are able because they need to find the cancer BEFORE symptoms appear. That means every year after 40, or before 40 if you have cancer in your family. To the men, if you have a lady in your life, urge her to keep up with her mammograms as well. I am so thankful that I started mine at 39 and have been up on them every year. They found it as soon as they could. Please don't listen to the insurance companies' recommendations of starting after 50! They have ulterior motives. And, by the way, there is no breast cancer in my family, I am pretty darn healthy (never smoked and drink only occasionally), eat mostly organic and try to live as healthfully as possible.
So, now that I have that off my chest, I want you all to know that I am still here, working diligently on my diet and exercise routine, and plan to be a better person when all is said and done. Sometimes it takes a scare to force a person out of complaisance, and I see my cancer as a warning. I do know that what I have been doing with my blog is the right thing and I wish to continue in the future. I am also excited about returning to school and continuing my research on Austen, Gaskell, and Forster and the relationship of their writing to the architecture and decor of the time. If you don't see me much over the next few weeks, it's because I am busy with my health, but, count on it, I will return.