My Great Breast Cancer Adventure

Face Down Flower

Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

Other possible titles:

Pink Death
Curvy Decay
Wet Pink Curves
Sensuous Decay
Flips, Curves and Death
Sensuous Death
Raindrops on Pink Underside
Wet Pink Petals
Fallen Flower

I don't really like any of these titles. Oh well. I DO like the photo, though!

Let's see. Today. Walk Olivia. Work on tax stuff in preparation for tax appointment tomorrow. Go to Efrem, get acupuncture. Come back and do Round Robin prep. More tax stuff. Go to SF loft to meet and orient another teacher who hasn't yet taught in that space. A short list but it will take many hours.

I also have to think some more about BCM (breast cancer monitoring). I can't decide how to do it. This is a note that I sent out yesterday to the email "breast cancer alternative treatments" discussion list that I'm on:

" To Anyone Who Might Be Interested,

I'm trying to get clear with myself about how I want to monitor for BC recurrence or metastasis, and am still confused.

I recently tried to get scheduled for the MRI that one alternative doc wrote an order for, which included more of my body than breasts and did not include the gadolinium contrast dye.

My health insurance co. refused to authorize it.

(Background: I was diagnosed in Aug. 2005. My last mammogram was Sept. or Oct. 2005. My last and only MRI, ever, was in Jan. 2006. Had a lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy. One positive node. Three removed. No chemo or radiation. Technically, that made me a "Stage Two," because of the positive node. The only monitoring I've done since the Jan. 2006 MRI has been manual breast exams, most recently this past December, by the breast surgeon, who didn't feel any new lumps.)

I figured that my health insurance refused to authorize it because it was for more of my body than the breasts and/or because the order wasn't from a conventional doctor. So I went to the breast surgeon who did my lumpectomy, and she wrote up new orders for a mammogram, ultrasound and an MRI of the breasts only, with gadolinium dye. I made an appt. for the mammogram and ultrasound and re-submitted my request for an MRI authorization.

My health insurance co. rejected the second request, too, saying that I did not meet their criteria for being someone who would be at risk for breast cancer! So I got the bc surgeon to call them, and somehow or other she got them to authorize the MRI.

In the meantime, I had a followup thermogram (did one back in Sept., then another in January). There was slightly more inflammation showing in the followup thermogram, but nothing that really worries me too much. Just something to watch, over time.

When I mentioned to the thermogram doctors that I was scheduled for a mammogram and ultrasound followed by an MRI, he balked in annoyed exasperation and exclaimed, "Why bother with a mammogram and ultrasound? They're both a waste of your time; just go straight for the MRI."

I told my acupuncturist/Chinese herbalist) what the thermogram doc said, and he agreed with him.

I'm not big on the idea of regular mammograms anyway, because of the radiation and also because of the fairly high potential for false positives and/or inconclusive, "suspicious" readings that cause them to then recommend biopsies, which I am loathe to do because I think that biopsies stir up the cancer cells, if there are any, and can conceivably cause more harm than good. I strongly suspect that my one positive lymph node was caused by the fine needle aspiration (biopsy) that I had not once but twice.

And although ultrasounds don't use radiation, they too are never really all that conclusive..or as precise as MRIs.

So I cancelled my mammogram and ultrasound appointments, thinking I would just do the MRI with contrast dye.

But then I started reading about gadolinium dye and now feel leery of THAT! But if I ask for an MRI without the dye, how effective would it be? How worth it? For that matter, how worth it would an MRI WITH gadolinim be? What I mean is, what would I do differently if they identifiied "mets" or something suspicious that looked like mets? Anything?

And THEN I find myself thinking, "Maybe I should just try to go by cancer marker blood tests." But I'm confused about those as well, and am not sure they're all that useful, either. Different doctors say different things about them.

So. I need help sorting through this "how to monitor" confusion and am wondering what others think. I see a lot of people doing a lot of testing testing testing, and sometimes it seems like overkill to me. But I also don't want to go too far in the non-testing direction, either.

Thanks,
Jane U.

I also sent this note to one of the alternative docs I see (the one who prescribes my Iscador). His answer was:

"Unfortunately, there is no clear answer to these questions, so it would be best to just go through the pros and cons of each approach."

Uh...right. I was hoping you'd help me do that, doc. But I guess the message is: "You can do this as well as I can, Jane."

On the one hand, his response really annoys and frustrates me. On the other hand, I feel that he respects my abilities to assess my options, and he's not pretending to know what can't really be known in any definitive way. He's not saying, "Just do as I say." He's not professing to know more than he really knows.

I suppose what I'd like is a response somewhere between the two extremes. Chances are, I'll have a better chance of getting that response from the women on the discussion list. Not from a doctor.

Dwarfed

Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

Kinda puts things into perspective...or proportion, eh? Things like ticky tacky houses and itsy bitsy humans and earthquake-vulnerable freeways and bridges. . .

. . . Also makes me gloriously happy to look out the window. Such magnificence.

I'm writing this from the Writing Salon loft on York Street, where the view out the window is still of the ongoing building construction, plus a glimpse of today's flat gray sky that is preceding, I presume, the Great Windy Storm forecast for later today. I hope no more trees fall in the roads or hurt anyone or cause more power to go out, but I must admit to loving these wild rainstorms. They remind me of my Midwestern upbringing when thunderstorms were regular occurences. We played in the rushing gutters afterward or sometimes even during, because they weren't cold storms. They were deliciously warm.

I don't feel 55, and I bet I won't feel 75 if I make it to there (my goal is at least 100, though). I was thinking of an old college boyfriend the other day and realized he'd be 61 now if he's stlll around. I have no idea if he is, or where he would be now. It's hard to imagine him being 61...or 71.

Anyway, I'm goin' nowhere fast in this post. Time to go home for a pit stop before heading over to Berkeley for more vacuuming and tidying of that classroom space. Also have to give new keys to the "How to Find an Agent" teacher. Am hoping to make it over there and back before the biggest winds hit the Bay Bridge. Trying to stay in one lane when begin whipped mercilessly about on the Bay Bridge is not my favorite activity!

Snowboard Cross World Cup

Boardercross

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Boardercross (also Boarder-X or BX - and occasionally referred to as Snowboard Cross) is a snowboard competition in which a group of racers (usually four or more) start simultaneously atop an inclined course, then attempt to reach the end of the course first.

Still widely referred to as boardercross by the snowboarding community, it wasn't until the International Ski Federation (FIS) (the skiers' organisation which controls Olympic ski events) assumed control of Olympic boardercross events that the term snowboard cross materialised. This was due largely to the language barrier - because when boardercross is translated into the FIS's native French and back again, snowboard cross emerges as a literal translation.

Boardercross courses are typically quite narrow and includes cambered turns, gap jumps, berms, drops, and steep and flat sections designed to challenge the riders' ability to stay in control. It is not uncommon for racers to collide with each other. Some observers have compared the sport to short track speed skating helmets show the sport's influence by motocross because of the amount of contact involved. The name and the riders' full-face

Steven Rechtschaffer is widely credited with creating the first official boardercross course at Whistler Blackcomb in 1990, however similar events were being held for at least five years prior to this event - 1985 being the year of the first (now legendary) Mt. Baker Banked Slalom.

In major multi-sport competitions

Boardercross has been an event in every X-Games since their start in 1997. It made its Winter Olympics debut in 2006.

And why do I bring up snowboard crossing? Because my  sister Jill's son, Graham Watanabe, just won the World Cup in Snowboard Cross!!!! This means that ranks #1 in the United States, and #4 in the World.  Here's a link to pics of him at the competition.

I think this whole "athletic child" thing in the Underwood family is so surreally weird. How can it be? My father was a smoking desk worker/lounge chair potato. He didn't even watch sports on TV. My mother WAS a cheerleader, I think, but after that her only athletic activity was running around after five kids. As for moi, you already know the answer. I don't even like competition of any kind, let alone PHYSICAL competition. It makes me cringe and squirm and worry too much about how the non-winners (I won't say losers) AND their mothers are feeling. I'm not saying I mind if my son Will competes in something and doesn't WIN; I'm saying that I worry that if he doesn't win, HE'LL feel bad even though he shouldn't, because it's not about winning, now is it?

That all said, I do certainly think it's fantastic that Graham won the World Cup in Snowboard Cross, especially since I didn't have to watch the actual competition, which would have made me a nervous cringing squirming wreck. Hearing about it after the fact is perfectly fine with me. Much better, actually.

Moving Softly into the Metal

Going Softly into the Metal
Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

I Call Them "Moments of Grace"

Or if I don't call them moments of grace, I call them "blessings from the Universe" or "gifts from the Universe."

Whatever the term used, what I'm talking about are those rare moments of insight that come to me, seemingly, from out of nowhere...from out of the blue, as they say.

They usually come only after I've spent a very long and tortured time trying to figure something out, make something better, get out of a funk or low-grade, chronic depression. They come after I've been going round and round in circles, beating my head against the wall, wracking my brain...all the cliche phrases for trying and failing to find a solution or, to put it a better way, gain insight into a problem.

I'm not talking about the small problems, such as not remembering how to do a tax computation...or hating the home office decor...or feeling nervous every time there's a twinge in my left breast...or discovering that I now have "floaters" in my right eye...or having a broken camera...or having to cancel too many Writing Salon classes this session and wondering what THAT is all about...or having to deal with Olivia accidentally peeing on my bed while she was sleeping (and no, I can't forbid her to ever get on my bed again; that just wouldn't be possible)...or having too many medical bills that my health insurance won't pay for...or dreading the next MRI...or well, this little list could easily become huge (wow, I've discovered a surefire way to always have something to post on my blog: a list of small problems!).

Anyway, these rare moments of insight will appear when I am NOT in the throes of struggling to make them appear. Rather, they arrive after I've let go (at least for a while...ie. maybe while I'm sleeping!). Yesterday it was while I was puttering, and the realization came to me that if I could approach EVERYTHING the way I approach walking Olivia and taking photos, my life would change drastically for the better and, I suspect, this gray film of depression that has been plaguing me for weeks, now, would most likely begin to fade away.

The depression has stemmed from the feeling that I needed to change my entire work life, that I didn't want to run the Writing Salon anymore, that it no longer felt like my "right livelihood," that I was just going through the motions, begrudgingly, reluctantly, resentfully, and unhappily.

Every "solution" I imagined involved a total life overhaul. Drastic measures. Wild fantasies that I would have no idea how to even begin to implement. You know, like sell everything and move to a fixer upper ranch in the middle of Montana, and raise dogs and llamas. Or write a best-selling book on how to fight breast cancer in ten easy steps, via alternative treatment methods, and simultaneously take on the Evil Healthcare Industry... and win the fight. Or magically become such an incredible photographer that I could turn my photos into inexpensive greeting cards and sell millions of them and make enough money to retire.

Oh I have so many of these fantasies . . .

But here's the truth: Walking Olivia isn't as fun and new a thing to do as it was two or even one year ago. Exploring Bernal Heights on foot isn't as fresh and new as it used to be. After a while, everything new becomes old. Everything that was exciting has the potential to become boring. So whaddya do? Well, you can keep pursuing NEWNESS by continually starting over with new endeavors. You can move to new houses or citites or countries. You can buy new clothes, new furniture, new hairstyles. You can sell your business and start a new one (over and over and over, if you're a really super entrepreneur). You can figure out ways to always be the instigator rather than the maintainer, the one who comes up with ideas,  breaks new ground... and then lets someone else keep everything going after you've gotten it started. These are viable options but not always practical for the "ordinary" person. Like me.

So here's the deal: Over the last few days, I've discovered that even though I now drag my feet about taking Olivia out for walks every day, once I get out there and start looking around with "my third eye" as I like to call my photograher's perspective, I realize over and over and over that nothing is ever truly boring, because everything is always changing...although it may be that the changes become subtler and subtler. Sure, I now know Bernal Heights like the back of my hand. A house I've looked at a hundred times isn't as exciting to me as when I was seeing it for the first time.

BUT: The light is always changing, depending on the time of day. Ditto for the weather. The trees change. Leaves come and go. Colors. Textures. Shapes. Plants change. The sky changes. A new fence gets built. A house is torn down. Or repainted. Duh. Of course. A trillion things, little and big and in-between, are different, are changing, are evolving, are transmuting, are shifting, are reconfiguring...

I can see this so clearly when I think about photography. So why can't I  see it when I think about, say, running the Writing Salon? If I could train myself to "re-see" my business from new angles, new perspectives...at different times of the day, in different "weather," maybe I would learn how to re-appreciate it.

Am I making any sense here? I know I'm getting rambly, but this is a first draft. A stream of consciousness. I'll revise it later.

This photo was taken at least 15 years ago. Sigh....!

And here's a NY Times review of Will's show in NYC, which recently started a month-long run.

I was inspired to look online for it after getting a phone call from Ms. K yesterday. She was calling from Times Square, to tell me that she'd just been to see the show, and that she'd also gone to say hi to Will backstage afterward (said she was a friend of his Mom's, and they let her go back! Right on.) I'm happy to report that she too gave it a fine review, a portion of which read:

"I was with a friend and we were walking in the rain in the middle of the mob at Times Square. I was just so uplifted by the show, I wanted to tell you. (And get used to hearing about your kid secondhand. He's a performer! There will be reviews and media, one hopes.)

What struck me was, he's a dancer! The acrobatics are amazing and the backbone of the show, but the dancing parts that sew everthing together are charming and well-done..."

Thanks, Ms. K. You made my day.

Mission Metal

Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

Ain't corrugated rusty metal pretty? It made me happy when I looked up and saw it.

Last night Jack and I watched 60 Minutes and there was a segment on a study re: which country in the world has the "happiest" people. Somehow or other they concluded that Danes are the happiest. Yup, the people of Denmark were WAY ahead of Americans, who ranked only 27 on the happiness scale.

An unscientific analysis led to the conclusion that Danes are happier because their expectations are lower. Americans reach for the stars, whereas the residents of Denmark are content to enjoy looking at the clouds.

Actually, they also concluded that perhaps it's not so much that the Danes are 'happier," per se, but that they're more "content." This contentment comes in large part because they're not nearly as stressed out as we are about things like money money money more more more richer richer richer. The children have free daycare and all their schooling paid for through college. Everyone has free health care. Everyone has the basics taken care of. It's a more homogeneous society in the sense that pretty much everyone is middle class. The gross disparities between rich and poor don't exist there. They know that having a bigger house or car or fridge or computer won't make you any happier. We know it too; we just don't believe it.

Ready, Set, GO!

Ready, Set, GO!
Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

This sweet little tangerine, tow-headed girl caught my eye yesterday as I was walking (with Olivia, of course) past Bernal Playground.

Now I'm gearing up to drive to Berkeley for my weekly (supposedly) vacuuming, mopping and tidying extravaganza. Also have to check on the whiteboard problem...one of the teachers used a Sharpie on it, the ink wouldn't erase, and so one of the helpful students washed it off with some unknown cleaner found in the bathroom. That got the Sharpie off, except now the whiteboard markers don't work on the board anymore. Replacing the whiteboard isn't such a huge deal, but it's attached to the corner, diagonally, between two walls. Jack had to use TOOLS to put it up there. So I can't easily replace it. He'll have to go over there with me, get it off the wall, and use TOOLS - electric tools - to put a new one up. Unless I can figure out how to make the markers work again. I wonder if staring at it for a long time will do the trick. Or stomping my foot.

This is but one tiny portion of the life of a business owner. Also have to remember to buy more garbage bags that fit the particular trash can in Berkeley. That means a trip to Cole Hardware. Also have to remake and replace the carefully made and laminated sign that I put on the OLD Berkeley classroom door of Studio 204, directing students to go to the correct, new door, Studio D. Some delightful someone took it down.

What? 8:42 a.m. already? Time to go.

Chipped Heart Against the Wall

Chipped, Flawed. . .
Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

I like it this way. Have no desire to repaint it.

Bernard and Doris

Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

If you haven't yet seen the HBO movie, Bernard and Doris, I recommend it. Stars Susan Saradon and Ralph Fiennes. Both are superb, though I think Ralph might be slightly more superb, even, than Susan. He (they, actually) sing this song, "I Love the Way You're Breaking My Heart," in a way that brought tears to my eyes. (Ms. Mush, you will need a big box of tissues.)

My Shadow Doesn't Match Who I Am...Or Is It the Other Way Round?

My Shadow Doesn't Match Who I Am...Or Is It the Other Way Round?
Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

Big day yesterday: I finally cleaned off the top of my desk. (Of course, most of what was on it just went into piles on the long rectangle folding table nearby. A very ugly metal table with a fake brown wood top. But at least I found and paid the overdue bills, and began gathering tax receipts and bank statements, oh yippee.)

Wasn't the weekend weather glorious, though? Jack and I took Ms.Livvy B. to Noe Valley on Saturday. We walked up and down Dolores and Church streets, as well as several of the streets inbetween them. We got too hot and had to tie our jackets around our waists, and Olivia, who is a true San Franciscan, pooped out sooner than usual because she can't take heat over 60 degrees, the little wimp.

This morning I sent an email to the guy who teaches "Thai yoga therapy" at Bernal Yoga. The description intrigued me, and so I'm going to try one private session with him, first; I am a real chicken about taking any group class that has to do with body movements/exercise. I must first be taught, one-on-one. Then and only then will I venture out into a group. Groups freak me out, in general.

Did anyone watch Bill Maher last night? I love his show. It's one of the only smart talks shows in existence.

Flickriver

I just discovered a cool way to share my photos via another fancy web tool called Flickriver. It's a really easy way for you to click on different links and see streams of my most "recent" photos, or my "most interesting" photos, or "sets" of my photos grouped by theme,  i.e. "abstracts" or "trees" or "people I know." Heck, you can even pick the "tags" link and then choose one of my bijillion tags, ie. you could pick "red" and see all my photos with lots of red in them.

Aren't you excited? Isn't this how you are dying to spend your next several minutes or hours? Looking at Jane's amateur photo efforts? Hey, are you my friend or not?

 

You can also choose links that will take you to "favorite" photos of mine (photos done by other people on Flickr), as well as photos from my Flickr "contacts" (people from all over the world whose photos I find interesting; I have contacts in the Netherlands, France, England, Ireland, Canada, Croatia...you name it!).

Hopefully this link will work for you. If it doesn't, please let me know so that I try and figure out how to fix it.

The Mission District

Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

I took Olivia over to the Mission for her walk, the other day. First we went to the new Writing Salon loft, where I swept, mopped and tidied up again. Then we went out and wandered around the area between 18th and 20th streets, and York and Harrison. I love the eclectic mix of warehouses/industrial businesses/condominiums/artists lofts/single family housing/cool restaurants and cafes... and other unexpected stuff like, oh, the puppy training place...or funky hippie SF Auto Repair...or Theater Artaud...or the offices of KQED...or the little cake bakery and catering biz. It's all there. (Yeah yeah, Ms. K, I know it's not NYC, but it's not Podunk, Idaho either!)

I take delight in the skinny, twisty, hilly streets of Bernal Heights, but I get just as much pleasure from the flat, wide, spacious and sunny streets in this part of the Mission. It feels so nice and open and, strangely enough, quiet.

Redder in the Rain

Redder in the Rain
Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

9:17 p.m. Wednesday night. Blue corn chips, half a glass of merlot, cat and dog on the bed with me, and yeah the TV is on, my hair's too flat, and the doldrums are permeating our house tonight. I'm not sure why and don't feel like trying to figure it out. Would rather daydream or go back in time. I've been practical and hardworking all day. Enough is enough. Blogging isn't the solution. In fact there probably is no solution. You just continue to move on through the seconds.

Oh, and I should add that we had a lovely Superbowl Sunday hangin' out with Jack's super veggie chili, Barb's stupendous nachos, my stoneground cornbread, Eric's supercaloric cookies, Martha's genuine Swiss chocolate, Karen's chocolate covered cherries, and Mary Ann and Bills chips and dips. Gathered over our food and around THREE TVs - in the living room, dining room and kitchen - we took time out from work, emails, blogs, and bills.  Too bad we do this only once a year.

My Red Doggie

My Red Doggie
Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

I know you've all been waiting for this, another detail about my dog's personality. Okay, here's one, which I think is an example of nurture winning out over nature: My delightful terrier - spunky zesty and playful but also able to be winsome, soulful and empathetic - has the nose of a freakin' bloodhound.

Of course I have no idea if that's REALLY true, but I can tell you that I have OBSERVED Olivia and her nose, every day now for almost two years. This girl loves LOVES loves to smell stuff. Sure, all dogs like to use their noses, but not all of them go on walks and keep their noses as CONSTANTLY and incessantly to the ground as does my Livvy B.

Is this a terrier trait? Well, partly. They are "ratters" after all. But I think it's more than that with Olivia. You see, she and her siblings were taken away from their mother at the tender age of only five weeks. But during their stay in foster care with Rocket Dog Rescue, they had a surrogate mother: Lightnin' Hopkins, a MALE hound dog with gorgeous long long long ears. When Olivia was tiny she would sit under Lightnin's chin, safely surrounded on both sides by those long ears. Lightnin', I have been told, was a fiercely devoted parent to his adopted babies.

My theory is that he taught them all how to follow that scent through hell or high water.

Hidden But Not

Hidden But Not
Originally uploaded by my.third.eye

I was driving back toward the Castro (on Castro Street), after delivering several hundred more Writing Salon flyers to the distribution drop point in the Haight, when I saw this tree. I've got this thing for tree TRUNKS in particular. I collect them, or at least photos of them. This one, now that I stare at it again, strikes me as beautifully erotic. All the elements of true eroticism are there, within it and surrounding it.