Ready to go

My Grandma was passing through town today on her vacation. It was so nice to see her! We went to the Boulder Tea House for lunch, had a lovely drive through the mountains, and then got some good laughs at Impulse Theater. (Grandma: "That was wild!") It turns out my Grandma has been donating money to MSKCC for years. Weird. I asked her how she randomly picked that hospital to donate to, and she said she chose it because there’s been so much cancer in the family. I didn’t even know about our history of cancer until this year. (Reminds me I have to go see that genetics counselor.)

Anywho, I leave for NYC tomorrow for my three month checkup with Dr. Healey. I realized today that I’ve been kind of anxious about it all week, and now I’m getting a migraine (I should really step away from the computer—ow). Life is always an unknown path, but it’s never more unknown then when you are going in for scans and a follow-up. I would like my future to be that I’ll get clearance to get off crutches again. BUT. You never know.

Hope, as they say, is the flip-side of fear. ("They" being Buddhists, and they say it more eloquently, but that’s the gist). And you can’t live your life in fear, right? Thus, in place of hope or fear I have a migraine. (Ha!)

Crutch-prov

Brian and I are starting our new show tonight at the Bovine Metropolis Theater. I’m excited. It’s called Battle Royale, where two long-form improv teams go head to head. The audience votes on which performance they liked best and that team returns the following week to defend their title! Brian and I are the co-hosts. The nice thing about hosting, is you can do it on crutches.

Which isn't to say one can only host improv while on the walking sticks. I have done a few improv shows on crutches and while it limits me in certain ways, last week I learned it adds in other ways…as in ready-to-go PROPS! Last week we played at The Bovine and I learned having crutches makes for a perfect jousting scene. There was a rolling chair on stage and I sat down with one crutch sticking out like a joust while Brian rolled me across the stage at Tim, who was holding my other crutch, but lamely sitting in a non-rolling chair. (I won. No one was injured.) I still giggle thinking about crutch-jousting. Wish I could do it every day. Maybe I’ll start a tournament with other bored walking-assisted folks!

Sara, Lady Knight

Stupid Surgeons

Okay, I know he saved my leg and all, but seriously, if you were a world renowned surgeon, don’t you think you would make a habit of scheduling days off way in advance?! I specifically called last week to confirm my appointment for October 16th, only to get a call this morning saying the doctor will not be in that day. No chance, no way. Thanks. Of course I get this news only after booking my flight and having a friend ask a favor from an old client for a place for me to stay near the hospital. ::Sigh::

On the bright side, it didn’t cost a fortune to change the flight and now I’ll be in town for the Denver Improv Festival. AND I’ll get some answers about my puffy leg earlier (October 2nd). But still, RUDE.

Orange you glad you didn’t say wheatgrass?

Bleck, bleck, bleck. Yuckity, yuckity. Have you ever done shots of wheatgrass? I’m trying to get back into super-healthy mode and today was the first day I forwent my latte in place of wheatgrass. Wow, is there no comparison. Of course, I know this, but it’s been a while since my days of double-wheatgrass-shots-no-chaser. I just had my flax meal/protein/calcium drink and now the wheatgrass is reminding me that although I’m healthy, I’m WAY far away from where I was. There’s a good reason though: orange bones.

That’s right. When I was in the hospital after surgery one of the assisting surgeons told me that my bones were ORANGE. I said, Where the tumor was? And he said, No, everywhere we could see. (Which include the entire femur, knee, top of my tibia and hip bone.) I asked Dr. Healey about it and he said they thought it was from too many antioxidants. WHAT?! I thought antioxidants were good for you? He said they were and that it might be the reason my tumor was slow-growing, but on the flip side--something to do with my type of tumor—might mean it could have metastasized to other parts of my body sooner. I was shocked. I was TOO healthy?

I asked what I could do to make my bones not-orange and he said, Nothing, just don’t eat big plates of carrots. I was fine giving up carrots (don’t like ‘em) but it made me question my whole outlook on health and diet, and I kind of gave up on a lot of what I learned had made me feel good.

Frankly, it wasn’t hard to bring cookies and dairy back into my diet and cut down on the wheatgrass and sprouts. I thought I was “living in balance,” which everyone always raves about but rarely attains, but recently I’ve just been thinking how much better I felt when I was a health nut. I don’t really know why I had/have orange bones or what that means, and I don’t think the doctors really know either. But I do know I felt more energetic and focused. So I’m going to try going back to what the rest of body likes, and hope my bones catch on. (My nails/skin/teeth were never orange! It’s SO weird! Such a mystery, these bodies of ours.)

But man, wheatgrass, maybe I don’t have to bring that one back just yet. (YUCK!)

Metal-ejudice

Ha! So, I was searching on Craigslist, as I’m wont to do, for some extra cash-earning opportunities. (Though, I can’t tell you how much $-anxiety has been lifted from my mind since all those very kind donations, thanks again). Anyway, I clicked on “Research Participant” (because let’s face it, unless they want to inject weird hormones into your body or make you lift heavy things while running in place, that is E-Z cash!) and the first thing it said was: “Participants must have no metal in their body (dental fillings are okay).” Uh! Just one more thing my hardware precludes me from. There’s no justice!*


*Don’t worry, I’m not actually feeling deprived or depressed because of this. It’s just another discovery I find funny and enjoy blowing out of proportion.

The Good Things In Life

At the abc-survivors forum there's a thread about the good things in life. Here are two good things I'm pretty excited about this week:

1. The third season of Arrested Development. (STEVE HOLT!)

2. Finally having a disability parking placard! I never thought I'd be so happy to have something that includes the word "disability." But MAN has it made my life easier this past week. It's like bing VIP! Now if only it included a long red carpet that rolled out of my car door...and Jason Bateman as my escort...(it's okay B, Portia can be your escort--I'm sure Ellen won't mind...)

Germans are crazy

It was around this time last year that I went to Germany searching for an alternative cure to surgery. After spending a few months juggling the opinions of three of America’s top doctors and seven options for surgery I decided that wasn’t a big enough challenge for me; I wanted MORE conflicting opinions to choose from. At the same time, everyone kept telling me, “Oh Germany is where it’s at in cancer treatments, go to Germany, they’re way ahead of the US.” So I thought, “Okay, yeah, I’ll try Germany, I mean that makes sense, they are known for their…precision engineering.”

So I put that on my Tumor To Do List one week: Call Germany. I like that it was so illusive to me, it involved the whole country:
Me: “Yes, hello, Germany, can you save me?”
Germany: “Oh, Yah.”
Me: “Oh, good.”

I received donated frequent flyer miles from B’s uncle and hopped a plane—a SUPER nice Lufthansa business class plane: totally awesome—to Münster, Germany. I stayed for free with a friend of friend’s acquaintance’s ex-land-lady. She let me use this adorable bike and every day I wasn’t meeting with doctors, I spent riding around the cobblestone streets of the city visiting the beautiful churches and gardens. I felt like I was in a storybook, minus the finding-a-cure-for-cancer bit.

It was my first trip to Europe (I love that I haven’t been to Paris or Rome, but I’ve hit the quaint university town of Münster!), and I went alone. It was a wonderful trip (I was independent! I could ride a bike! It was pretty!).

So here’s my Germany report:
Report #1: The seats on Lufthansa’s business class plane make you feel like you’re in your own private spaceship. After the 8-hour flight, I’m pretty sure I was the only one on the plane who didn’t want to get off. I wanted to stay in my cushy pod with the free movies, wine, and chocolate.

Report #2: German riesling: delicious.

Report #3: The doctors’ opinions:
The doctor I went to see for an alternative therapy immediately told me he couldn’t help me (WHY couldn’t he have told me this over the phone?!) and that I should see a surgeon he highly recommended at the university clinic (or klinik) in town.

It was difficult to understand Dr. Winkelmann through his accent, but from what I gathered, he recommended a fibular graft, which would have involved taking my right fibula--the skinny bone in the back of the calf--and putting it in the place of my left femur. He assured me, “Yah, you don’t need zee WHOLE fibula, you only need zee top and bottom centimeter of zee fibula.” And then all of his assistants started intently bobbing their heads in agreement like, “Yah, yah, not zee WHOLE fibula.” That’s when I looked around to see if I was missing something and thought, Really? Because I seem to have been enjoying my fibula just fine these past 28 years, right where it is…in this leg, where it’s healthy and not needing to be cut open.

I mean, I had flown to Germany to see if I could avoid cutting open one leg, only to learn they wanted to cut open both?! I went home feeling a lot more patriotic. (Sigh) The lesson?: Germans are crazy.

Andria's Story

Sometimes it is just so hard to believe what some people are forced to contend with in their lifetime. My friend passed along this story and call for help about her friend Andria. Frankly, my story sounds like a cakewalk in comparison. It seems like odd timing to post this, considering yesterday's post, but perhaps it's more poetic than odd. We all need each other.

Please, if you can, put Andria in your heart right now—on your prayer list, in your meditations, your good thoughts, whatever is meaningful to you. Thank you.

********************************************************
YOUR HELP IS NEEDED! • ANDRIA O’DAY LEE FUNDRAISER

Andria was 21 years old when she was diagnosed with BONE CANCER. After extensive treatment and surgery she was living a “normal” life. This past January (seven years later) she was diagnosed with BREAST CANCER. After chemotherapy, she was ready for a double mastectomy and it was discovered she has MYELODYSPLASTIC SYNDROME (a pre-leukemia condition).

Friends of Andria are having an ice cream social and silent auction to help de-fray the costs Andria is facing in the future. Andria will have a double mastectomy and will be going through five years of treatment for Myelodysplastic Syndrome, including a bone marrow transplant.

Email: andriafund@comcast.net PLEASE MAIL DONATIONS TO: LINDA O’DAY (FOR THE BENEFIT OF ANDRIA O’DAY LEE) 7927 WEST 106TH AVENUE BROOMFIELD CO 80021

Most Amazing Gift

Something amazing happened to me last week. I haven't posted recently partly because my mom’s been in town the past few days (yay!), and also because I’ve been completely stunned.

I received a priority envelope in the mail last week. When I opened it up I found two little envelopes inside, one that said “Open me first please.” On the inside it had a beautiful quote about friendship and then “With deepest courage and love, your family,” with the names of eighteen people listed. I immediately started crying. I had no idea what was in the other envelope, but just seeing all those names there, knowing those people were all thinking of me, sending me their love and courage, well, I was overwhelmed.

Then I opened up the second envelope.

And that’s when I completely lost it. I haven’t bawled that hard in a long time. The second envelope was filled with checks. Unbeknownst to me, my friends put together a fundraiser since they found out about my setback, to help me cover the extra costs of recovery.

I’m still amazed. How do you say thank you for something like that? Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough.

It’s things like this that really make you feel less alone, that things are going to be okay, that there really is an abundance of love and kindness in the world.

One of the quotes written on the envelope was:

“When friendships are real, they are not glass threads, or frostwork, but the solidest things we know. A friend is the first person who comes in when the whole world has gone out.”

I love that. A friend is the first person who comes in when the whole world has gone out. It’s so true. Thank you to all of you for reaching out and helping me and letting me know you care.

Improv is deep, man

I just got back from coaching an awesome all-girl improv group, The Box Fans, who will be performing at the Denver Improv Festival this October.

For those of you who don't know, Brian and I met in our college improv group, The Lords of Misrule, our freshman year of college. Two years after we graduated The Lords moved to New York to perform together and live together. Anyway, improv has been a big part of my life for a long time. I was excited to move back to Denver and start performing with Impulse Theater again and at my friends' new theater, MaDcap. Alas, I stopped rehearsing with both groups once I was put back on crutches last month. So, co-coaching (with Brian) The Box Fans has been super fun, and has kept me involved in the improv world.

Tonight I was inspired by a quote from Martin de Maat (amazing person and teacher): "Find the child in your partner. Respect that child."

See, this is what I love about improv: the tenets of improv--to listen, support, trust, have fun, play--are the tenets for life. Imagine if we all worked at finding the basic goodness in everyone in our lives and respected that.

Okay, not necessarily funny, but true.

How many times can I say “beautiful?"

UPDATE: I received excellent news today—all that physical-therapy-insurance-crap has been sorted out. Hooray! It turns out Denver Physical Therapy had sent the claims to the wrong address. It’s nice to have easy answers once in a while!

Here’s my Telluride Report:
We had a wonderful time in Telluride this weekend. Well, except for at night, when B and I slept on the floor. After four nights, that was less-than-wonderful. It’s a tad depressing to admit that at 29 my back no longer thinks the floor is cool. But it WAS free, so I won’t complain (more).

All we did for four days straight is catch up with people we haven't seen in years, eat delicious Mexican food, sit around on Main Street people- and nature-watching, see a few movies, ride the gondola to Mountain Village, and have some drinks at night. Not too bad. Telluride is so beautiful that our conversation became redundant fast:
“Isn’t that beautiful?”
“Yes, completely gorgeous.”
“Hey, look, over there, it’s beautiful there, too!”
“Totally beautiful. And look there…amazing!”
“Wow…”
And so forth with much oohing and awing and pointing and picture-snapping.
On the way home we decided to take the scenic by-pass along 65 and went through Grand Mesa. WOAH. We hit a spot called Skypoint, and I think that was THE most beautiful vista I’ve ever seen. It basically had everything on the planet that is awe-inspiring—evergreens, a blue-blue sky, mountains, a winding river valley, Aspen leaves already changing to gold. I thought I would explode, but instead my eyes teared-up and I got real giddy.

Plus we got to see some movies after all, and we didn’t even have to sneak in. In fact, thanks to my wheelchair, at one theater we got the best seats in the house! We saw Little Children starring Kate Winslet and directed by the same guy who did Election. Little Children was totally disturbing, but EXCELLENT. Fabulous acting, gripping story, and just so well done overall. I’m sure it will be in theaters soon.

We also saw The Namesake, based on the book by Jhumpa Lahiri (who also wrote Interpreter of Maladies which is one the best books I’ve read this year—her writing is poetry). The Namesake, the movie, was (you guessed it) beautiful and made cry a whole lot.

Despite all the goodness, my knee swelled up on the first night and I was scared something would happen to me and I would be a six hour drive from my doctor. Fortunately it went down on the third day. (Why, I ask? It’s SO mysterious! I didn’t do anything to make it swell up and I didn’t do anything to make it unswell. Such a fickle little leg!) Also, there is always lots of drinking at night in Telluride, and while I still had some drinks (probably shouldn’t of, but who can resist drinking a margarita while watching the sunset? ::sigh::) the swelling reminded me that I’m “different” and still in the midst of my recovery. Instead of dancing all night like usual I sat and observed. (Though, I did briefly attempt some upper-body jigging on my stool…’cause I’m a CANdancer!)

My self-pity party didn’t last long after I met a cool guy named Felix who worked at the festival. (He was in a wheelchair too and asked me what I thought about accessibility in town--I said it worked for me...mind you, I said this while B was catching his breath behind me after having pushed me straight up hill for 15 minutes. Ha. Oh what would I do without sweet Brian.) Felix was just about the nicest, most upbeat person I met there. One day he rode up on his handcycle. This is the coolest invention! It’s made by a company called One-Off and was designed for adventurous people who don’t have use of their legs. It can do what a mountain bike can—climb mountain trails, go over rocks, through streams, whatever. Awesome. Felix also skied over 90 days last year. Pretty inspiring guy.

So that’s my Telluride report for this year. Overall, I’d say the experience was...beautiful.

(Thanks, Tim, for hosting us! I can’t wait to see YOUR film there next year!)

(The answer: 7)