Friday, June 27, 2014

#cancergivesback



Yesterday was my last chemo after three years of treatment. From Don King to Bob Marley to Princess Leia, to the Geisha girl to the cueball.... it's been a wild ride.  I hope the cancer in my belly doesn't come back, but going through this has changed my life. I am no longer worried about dying. At all. So.Weird.

I am far more concerned about the way I live my life. I am no longer a fan of organized religion. I have seen far too much hypocrisy in those people who get on their knees and pray for everything holy including their prayers for you and for me, but won't even do you a damn favor or bring you a glass of water when you are thirsty. I seriously don't think this is what Jesus meant when he walked on the water and led you into opening those expensive churches. Some days I wonder if He is the one who shudders. I'll stay home with my Bible all by myself, thank you.

I live with the spirit that's been nurtured inside me and know that all that is holy lives there. I am  visiting Earth, and see now that I get a very short time here. I will continue all of my days doing the right thing, trying to have decent intent and love in all that I do. I don't care at all how long I'm here. I see so many people being fearful of their death. They shudder because they are alone and selfish. Be afraid if you live with evil intent towards others because at the end of your days you will feel like ordering a shit sandwich on rye toast. Hold the mercy.

As you prepare to die, look back upon your life and dwell on the beautiful, joyful and happy treatment you had towards others. It's not too late. If you are in my particular life right now, and are dragging me into your evilness, nasty attitude and pettiness, be prepared to have me slowly but methodically run from away you. You are not worth the small moments I have left to share in the gift of the beauty I see. If you envision the glass half empty, get out. If you can't do your neighbor a favor, begin to wonder why. Is life ALL about you? Really?

I've been through hell and back in more ways than one, and rarely complain about it. You know why?Because cancer is the best damn thing that ever happened to me. #cancergivesback

"Be the change you want too see in the world... " Mahatma Gandhi




Friday, May 16, 2014

You want a perfect life?

1. Lower all your expectations in every relationship
2. Quit making eveything about you
3. Get lost in your favorite music (better yet - make your own)
4. Stop eating crap
5. Do something you absolutely love every day
6. Quit bitching. Today.
7. Get cancer... (any kind will do) so you get some perspective.


Love me some Will...  some of MY favorite music










Wednesday, April 30, 2014

hunger for color...


Roasted carrots, beets, sweet potatoes
 sea salt
cracked pepper
olive oil
lemon thyme
Holy balls...  Im good!

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Killing it...


Oh joy.

mixed greens
egg
chick peas
roasted beets
toasted pine nuts
olive oil
balsamic reduction
sea salt
cracked pepper

Lord have mercy.


In recent lab studies on human tumor cells, the betanin pigment in beets slows the growth of the little suckers. They inhibit pro-inflammatory enzymes and are powerful anti-oxidants. Take THAT, dreadly.

Extra virgin Siberian pine nut oil is a rich source of natural antioxidants, such as vitamin E, carotenoids 
(including beta-carotene, used by our bodies to produce vitamin A), niacin (vitamin PP), magnesium, 
copper, iron, zinc, manganese, and sulfur-containing amino acids. POW, WACK, to "free radicals" and dreadly bastards.






Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Lions and Tigers and Asbestos, oh my...

It is shocking that asbestos is a free-wheeling radical in our environment that should be banned. Read about my friend, Heather, below:



http://www.mesothelioma.com/heather/awareness/#.U06YOccRb0o


Friday, April 4, 2014

I give in...

I'm turning into my mother....

The standards of culture have changed. There is nothing left anymore except for pop-culture. The Kardashians are winning.






Vogue speaks...

Monday, February 24, 2014

Hail to the Queen...

I'm in love with all things Nonnie, but being the grandmother to my son's children has a unique flavor due to the hand that rocks him - his wife. Even though I am a strong, accomplished woman, I'm finding that there's a definitive learning-curve to this new role. I must relinquish power, and relax. After all, my job is done. Santa has passed the proverbial torch, and a new woman has arrived with a smile on her face, art projects in tow, and a glass of wine in her hand.

After thirty-six years of being Mommy, I know too many things, but need to keep them all to myself. This takes practice and perseverance.

Yikes.

I've learned to take it in stride, enjoy the babies, and put my own insecurities where they belong... buried under my tongue instead of having a weak moment and spitting out my opinions all over their kitchen. It is a delicate balance in order to keep the real mommy happy.

Mommy is the Queen after all. I know this because I, too, sat perched on my throne for many years. Frankly? I've never been happier. I get all the adoration and none of the stickiness on my floor.

Ah... the balance makes me want to do the happy.



Tuesday, February 11, 2014

I'm hungry, dammit...

I'm beginning to go to the grocery and remain befuddled as to what I should eat. I'm also afraid to drink the water, eat processed food, and have sex with the wrong cancer-causing lubricant. 

I know vegetables are the way to anti-oxidize myself but (crap) all the time? And if the source of my vegetables is questionable, then I've just eaten an apple sprayed down with Raid. That will surely mess up my cells and mutate my blood supply. It's a quandary of marketing decisions when it comes to Sally's daily palate. 

I'm afraid to touch meat that isn't from a decent source knowing that grain-fed is as bad as the ticking apple time-bomb. Supermarket dairy causes inflammation, phlegm, and is nasty elixir of antibiotics. Soy milk is a phytoestrogen that fuels acne and (most probably) breast cancer. Yum. Mind you, processed soy is NOT fermented soy from Japan so don't let Monsanto fool you with their little tap dance. There goes my beloved aged Gouda cheese, my daily lattes and my egg salad on toast. 

And then there are the highly processed gluten-laden products that clog Mr. Colon and drag down Mrs. Regular giving you the gift of that dreaded Ms. Heartbreaking Hemorrhoid with the bad manners and the itchy personality. It's downright exhausting.

Sorry.

That leaves me with nothing from Dairy Queen, Panera, most grocery stores and anything cooked by my husband, Bruce:  the carnivore devil who pushes a plethora of evil animal flesh with a chaser of Butter Pecan hell-on-Earth. I can't hide. 

Bugger.  My goal in life is just balance, which at this point doesn't seem possible with my Sybil personality around every corner. Frankly, I'm in a sushi mood today but with the latest Tsunami from Japan, God knows how nuclear my fish has become. I could be strung out like a black light by the dinner hour tomorrow, but may eat the little rolls anyway. 

For my weekly food dilemma, that leaves me with nothing more to consume than an aged Zinfandel. Alrighty then. 

Sayonara. 

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Don't pity the fool...



Chemo today.

I am exhausted. The infusion was on the back of my hand... they've even stabbed me between the fingers as though I am a crank addict. My veins have collapsed and so (without a port) I have several more times to be tortured... six to be exact. Today wasn't too bad. But, they have to put me to sleep so it is such a waste of my day. Now, I can't sleep tonight, and I am dealing with my dog who has emotional issues. She freaks out when I'm gone. She was eating her own poop outside ten minutes ago. Crap.

Well, that was an unfortunately-placed epithet. Sorry.

There is such a delicate balance about my wanting any kind of attention when it comes to this cancer. I can't tolerate pity, and yet, if my plight isn't mentioned at all I feel unimportant. If I analyzed it, I would rather be ignored completely than given the look of pity. My friend called me yesterday and said we should start a business of some kind. Now, that's the best medicine. The idea of looking forward in a positive, inspiring light... like before the BIG C hit the fan.

I can't decide what I want in the pity department. I don't want to be driven to treatment by someone else. I am half-asleep afterwards, but insist on driving myself there and back home. I am asked if I want visitors and I always say no. It is my way of pretending that none of this is true; that I'm not one of those statistics that you hear about. If they sit with me, they are a reminder of what I once was: healthy. It's like being in prison, and they are on the good side of the glass window. They get to leave.

 I am a hardass. I refuse to give in to the limitations of what chemo gives me. Yesterday, I painted my entire downstairs bathroom (and cabinet) and spackled the hallway to bury my anxiety. Normal, right? But in acting like nothing is ever wrong, I also get the no special treatment or sympathy from my family... (definitely my own fault) but it feels strange. Bruce has the perfect balance with it, and I am so grateful. He lets me drive there, offers to visit, but does NOT show up when I tell him not to. I don't want his look of worry, and his gift (after all) is his food obsession, so I'm never starving. On the contrary, it's like eating with Emeril or Mario. Bruce doesn't bring up the chemo in the evening, because he wants to believe that the glass window in the prison was never erected in the first place.

Denial.

No. I don't want the visitors, and beyond all things, I DON'T want their pity. The chemo culture at the cancer center is a freaking party of the friends and family keeping a supportive vigil along side of my sick, bald, cancerous cubicle-neighbors. No thanks. At least they give me sedatives so I can tune the pity-party out. I go there with lipstick on and refuuuuuse to be a party to their cancer festival. I know this whole thing has brought out my cranky side, but that's how I roll with cancer. To me, this thing is personal. Unlike the status-cancer-quo, I'm not buying the t-shirt and joining the club. 

I hate it. Even the party-people give you this look as they walk past your cubicle with their homemade brownies and balloons for the other victims... it's a look I've never experienced. It must be the stare that those in a wheelchair get - 'I'm so glad I'm not you' but 'I'm so curious to know how bad it is for you. You poor thing.'  Cancer is like a bloody car accident. They are horrified, but they have to look. They want to look at it, and turn away in horror as they are making sure to see it all simultaneously. I've never wanted to be more normal in my entire life. I hate it. And it isn't the cancer, the fear, my looming death, the needles, the scans, or the chemo... it is the PITY.

I got a Starbucks today as I was driving to the cancer center. I had this strange ah-ha moment as I got into the car... wishing that I was like everyone else in the latte-line. I wished that I had a job like I had before or a meeting to go to... it would even be fine to go to a job with people I didn't like. Why? Because the business of life is normal, and what I was doing by getting five hours of some poison concoction in my bloodstream after my latte ---->just wasn't.

You can't lecture people about appreciating the little things in life because it sounds like a dipshit platitude, and you have to be on the other unhealthy path to relate. I am far from angry that I was pushed to this dark side. It has given me more than I can fathom to understand truth in my life. Now, I am blatantly honest with friends and family and have a more authentic relationships. Meandering through life without coming to terms with your demise is such a waste. You cover up a lot because you assume that your time here is limitless, so why bother telling your truth? The stuff that scares you, gets you mad, depresses you, makes you laugh, hurts your feelings, causes you to feel embarrassed, or pissed (like when that hazelnut latte spills on your crotch) is what gives you that beautiful thing that we all take for granted. It's called...

life.

Speaking of which, it is 4:20 am and my dog just crapped in my kitchen. I need this. Anyway, if you are having a reason to hate your life today, and are feeling sorry for your poor self because yours is  just so unfair and depressing...



Got it?