Just a Big Ol' Chicken

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Ahem, that would be me. Velvet's comment on my post from last night had me thinking about my own close call with breast cancer.


It all started, as most things in my life do, with walking the dog. It was winter and, working in the film industry, I always got home after dark. I grabbed Mags and took off. She always got a mile and a half walk morning and night no matter how many hours I worked. We had made it to the block behind the house when Maggie wanted to cross the street. This area was particularly quiet and there was no danger...just darkness. We crossed where there were two driveways together and I was expecting a flat, street-level surface only, there was curb. My right foot hung on the curb and I went flying -- landing full weight on my left boob.

I had always said if I ever dropped the leash, Maggie would be gone. But she proved herself a true rottweiler that night. In typical rottie fashion, she went into "guard mode." She turned her back to me, straddled my body in her best "if you get to her you gotta go through ME" stance. As I lay on sidewalk screaming in pain (winter, windows closed), she would turn her head toward me and literally blow me kisses and then remember she was on guard duty, turn forward and growl at...nothing. "Kiss, kiss mommy. OH! I'm on guard."

It took me quite a while to feel like I could get up, and when I did, it took quite a while to convince Maggie to get off of me!

Not only was that breast black, blue and many shades of lavender for weeks, I now had a lovely knot in there.

At that time, I was getting mammograms regularly even though I was in my 30s...family history being what it is and all. And sure enough that knot earned me my first "you need to get back in here for another test" phone call.

I was terrified. I cried incessantly for days. I went in for the sonogram... a much more humane test for sure. Only, I was cried so hard, I was shaking and the tech yelled at me cause the handle thingy kept gliding every time I shook. That's what a big chicken I am. I cry my way through the stupid test! Cluck.

It was determined to be "soft tissue damage" from my fall and I had to go every six months for several years. And now, I guess I'm giving myself some time off for good behavior. Cluck.

Really though, with the cost of all those meds... I think my sister's proton treatments were over $10,000 per (and she got 5 a week for months!)... sometimes, I honestly think if something like that happened, worrying about the money would be the thing that kills me. Cluck. 'Cause there's always something to worry a chicken like me. Cluck, cluck.

Rain and Mammarygrams (Updated)

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We finally got some much needed rain. The problem with California rain is, it either pours so hard you start to ponder how to build an ark or... it just pisses down... a fine mist for days on end, just enough to make the roads slick and amounting to maybe a quarter inch over 2 days time. We have the latter.

It was the kind of day I don't really mind staying home. But I had plans that involved an hour drive to Anaheim to see a dear friend (and her hubby) from my Carol Duvall days. I saw at least six accidents on the drive down... two of which involved only one car. This was one of them.



I had a wonderful dinner at a packed Cheesecake Factory in Brea. We ordered the Factory Favorites: "A Combination of Our Favorite Appetizers including: Avocado Eggrolls, Spinach and Cheese Dip, Pot Stickers, Summer Rolls, Quesadilla, Corn Cakes, Buffalo Blasts and Calamari" and split a vanilla bean cheesecake slice for dessert. Yum.

My friend is in Anaheim for the Craft & Hobby show and has a book signing tomorrow. This is a really big (the biggest) show for craft wholesalers in the country. And I know so many people that will be there, it's good to get out and network and also get a few orders placed (good deals for ordering at the show) for the shop which is frightfully low on inventory. So, I'll be back down there all day tomorrow and dinner with more friends tomorrow night. And then back to the job on Monday...UGH... I really hate working for someone else.

On the way back home, my favorite chat / news channel was talking about the recently released study saying that fewer and fewer women over 40 are getting their mammograms. The male host of this show was pondering why.

Well, buddy, let me tell you. If you had to get your penis smashed flat between to layers of metal not once, not twice, but three times, just how often would you go to your doctor? And we lucky ladies get to do that twice. For you fellas out there, that's horizontal, vertical and diagonal...EACH BOOB. And yes, it hurts!

I myself haven't been in several years. My sister would kill me if she knew. Between trying to find time to schedule it, the pain and fact that my insurance doesn't cover much... it just seems like too much trouble.

And before any one with breast cancer gets all indignant with me... I know the risks. It is very prevalent in my family -- among smokers (men and women), which I am not. I know that doesn't take away my risk. But, I've been through so much with my sister having it.

She was diagnosed in December 1992 and had a radical mastectomy on New Year's Eve that year. 1993, I flew to Baton Rouge many times to help out, taking her to chemo and radiation, cutting her hair to because she was bawling every time she found a clump of hair in the house, helping my mom try and heal the massive burns that Sis got on her chest.

Sis made it 10 years & one month before the darn stuff came back, this time wrapped around her neck. It was paralyzing her. Her only option was proton radiation - A wonderful thing developed for treating prostate cancer. It can get the radiation into the most accurate spot. Since there was a risk of burning a hole in her spinal cord, thus making her a paraplegic with electron radiation, this was her only option. She and Mom moved in with me for almost four months. Within two weeks, I knew the treatment was working.

Now, there's another tumor in the hollow of her back, right above her right butt cheek. They say it does not have a high enough sugar rating to be cancer and it can't really grow where it is but there is nothing they can do. Sis says it's like having a charley horse all the way from her behind to her toes ALL THE TIME. She is only comfortable standing.

After witnessing all this, I can't say any of it is for me. Maybe it's because I never married or had kids and my family is far away but I just wouldn't put myself through all that. I'm not made of the right stuff. Funny thing is, my sister calls me the strong one. She's wrong. She's the steel magnolia. I'm just the wuss who ran away from home.

123MEME

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Velvet Sacks blog today suggested taking the closest book, turning to page 123 and writing the # 4,5, & 6 sentences.

Since I'm swamped with my new job and my old clients suddenly figuring out that if they paid me on time, I wouldn't be working elsewhere. Not to mention sales taxes and commissions to artists are due this week, my teaching gig started, the largest craft show in the world is going on and every person I know from my old job will be in town and many of them wanting my attention, let's just say, I'M BUSY! And since I lost the dang cord that connects my camera to this computer and there is no way to show you all those fabulous pictures I've been taking, this idea hit the spot tonight.

My closest book is Bryson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words. I used it quite a bit when I was a freelance writer and my second closest book would The Chicago Manual of Style. But Bryson's little guide is small and stores easily by my desk and rarely fails to have the answer I need. It's a must for any writer.

Page 123, Sentences 4 - 6: (on the subject of like, as)"On the face of it, the rule is simple: as and as if are always followed by a verb; like never is. Therefore, you would say, "He plays tennis as if his life depended on it" (verb depended)

Although that is the rule, you may wish to suspend it at times."

So there. A grammar lesson to boot! Hope to be back with a more substantail post in a week or so.

Do They Think We're Idiots?

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My mother and I have both noticed a recent trend in retail and I'm curious if any of you have noticed. It is the phenomenon of "All New Packaging!!!" and higher prices.

Examples: my mom loves Manda Sausage. It used to come in a 5lb. box and cost around 4.99. After the "new packaging" (i.e. a smaller box), it weighs in at 4lbs. and costs 5.99.

My personal favorite complaint is bleach. Have you noticed it is impossible to find a gallon of bleach anymore? I used to find it for around .99 at my local dollar stores. Now, it's 3/4 of a gallon and 1.29...HUH???

I understand prices going up but giving you less for the money at the same time they gouge you... something's not right. When my mom complained to her local butcher in Baton Rouge, his response was, "You mean you noticed the size change?" Apparently, they think we're all idiots.

My mom just doesn't buy Manda sausage anymore. But I can't get away with not buying bleach. Any thoughts, bloggers?

Change is Gonna Come

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Welp, my rope ran out this week. I am flat broke. Something I've been close to before but... this is the worst. For the first time in my life, I have to make payments on my credit cards. It's killing me.

I know this may be something everyone does with all regularity, but not me. I figured out a long time ago that interest is my hard earned money making someone else rich.

But times have been rough. The business was actually way better this past year, thanks to my large corporate client and more jewelry sales. But, there is a down side to everything. That same client can take 45 days to pay. And for this last huge order, I stocked up in November, expecting to ship then. But they made the kit bigger...so how could I argue with them spending even more? And so it shipped last week and I invoiced them more than I made all of 2006... and I won't see that for 45 days or so.

Compounding my woes are the fact that same client "lost" a $9,000 invoice that I had counted on having to pay bills this month. And, my rental tenants are over 3 months behind on their rent...over 3k. (It's very hard to evict someone in LA, especially if they are disabled... he had a wreck, she changed jobs all in the same month. They've been with me ten years...something of a record in LA real estate.) So, I've reached the end of my financial rope.

And ... found a "job." Sigh... Here's the weird part. I've been out of the film industry for ages. And periodically quit "the biz" at different points in my life. And every time I think I'm out for good, it calls me back (Hey, fast cash for hard work is right up my alley!). And each time I go back, I go back wearing another hat. It used to be that I would quit for a while and go back moving up the ladder a notch in the production (logistics, staffing, budgeting, negotiation) dept. But the last time I quit, I went back as a writer. And now, I'm a... ART DIRECTOR????

OK, so I am qualified... but it's so weird how people just accept it. The Production Mgr. on this shoot was a coordinator when I was writing. She came in the house we were scouting, saw me on the floor measuring stuff and just simply stated, "So, you're art directing now. Cool." It's
as if she expected it.

Anyway, it's only four very busy weeks but quite a bit of moolah involved and I'll only have to cancel one teaching gig. Not bad. It's going to be stressful and Miss M is so used to having her mom around all day. I hope she will adjust.

And hopefully, all my owed money will arrive while I'm working and things will be just fine. If not, I've got a nice bush in the creek picked out...