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...

Just Doing Their Jobs

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Had to repost thanks to ill-informed jerks with political agendas. Back to permission only comments, I guess... sigh. I reposted with Velvet's comment in the text.

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I was going to post something funny today but heard that Ramos and Compean are headed to jail today. 2000 miles from home. So sad.

If you don't know these two names, you should. These men are heroes and our president has made sure they will have no justice. They are border patrol agents and got into a scuffle with an illegal alien drug smuggler. in the chaos, (forgive me, the story is actually so old, I forget who did the shooting!) one of the agents saw his partner on the ground and fired his weapon. The illegal alien drug smuggler was shot in the butt. He lived. And he talked... a lot.

Basically, our government prosecuted these two men for DOING THEIR JOBS. And now, these men, with families, and lives and mortgages, have no job, no income and are headed to jail for more than a decade! The whole prosecution stinks. It's clearly coming from the White House.

And the really frightening part: now that we know law enforcement officers can be punished with prison time for doing the job they were hired to do, what motivation do any of them have to uphold the law??

To read more, Agent Ramos' family has a blog.

Velvet Sacks said...
This situation is SO twisted. This may be the first administration where the exceptions outnumber the rules.
4:11 PM

Presidential Head

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Ah, Get your minds outta the gutter... this is not the Clinton era.

I was pondering who may become our next president after seeing John Edwards on Leno last night. I like Edwards a lot. I prayed he would've been in office this go-round and was terribly disappointed when Kerry was chosen for the top spot. I really felt it should've been the other way around.

And then I hear Giuliani my be running for the Republican spot. I should explain at this point, I'm one of those annoying voters pollsters and parties hate: I swing both ways and am still convinced the one election should have demanded a recount was when Perot ran (Go Ross!). Everyone I know voted for him and not Clinton. I was raised to vote for the man and not the party. It's sort of a family motto. And that's the only rule I stick to.

That being said, I like Giuliani a lot. I thought he was a terrific leader even before 9/11. I would find it a real toss up between two decent choices if these two men were in the forefront of our next national election.

And then I realized, every elected president since Kennedy and the era of television has one quality poor Rudy does not: really good hair. And while I hate to think that this is an actual criteria that voters consider, I don't put it past the average American to be that shallow. Does dear Rudy even have a shot??

Fishing for Soldiers

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My 15-year-old Godson came over after school to work in my shop. (I'm still dealing with that massive wholesale order from before Thanksgiving...darn thing is almost ready to ship!) In the process of packing 66 kits (of 250), the boy had MTV on - something I don't really watch. I stopped watching cause everytime I tuned in there was NO music. And today, the shows were all on minor celebrities and how they live. (MENTAL NOTE: #2 Question for God: How do you decide who you give too much money to??)

OK - the shows were mindless enough and not distracting while we were packing but the thing that astounded me was that the commercials were SO LOUD. And many of them were for the military. Each one tried to really make it sound cool. Not like hard work or something you could get killed doing.

Mind you, I come from a long line of military heroes and to this day, I cannot meet a veteran of any age that I don't get a lump in my thoat and try to find some way to shake his / her hand and thank them for their service.

But maybe, it's this war and this president that makes these commercials seem so vile to me. As it is, my boy already has a rather dangerous career in mind. He wants to be a helicopter pilot for the fire department. He goes out for Fire Explorer every year even though he is too young and knows he'll be cut. He's hoping that his face will be so familiar when he is 16 that they will just sign him up on the spot. I shiver at the very thought of him fighting a fire, much less flying a helicopter into a raging inferno.

But for now, he's still my boy. His face has not changed since he was about 4 months old. And when I look at him, he is no longer 6' tall. He's just a wee boy that I can make laugh so hard, he falls over. And no matter how much taller he gets (a doctor in Hungary predicted 6'6" when he was still in utero!), he will always be that little boy to me. And I really wish the Army, Navy, Airforce, Marines & Coast Guard would fish in other waters.

Revelation

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I found myself a little angry with God this morning. I had one of those rare moments of clarity about my life and was suddenly so pissed this info comes about 20 years too late.

This week is an anniversary of sorts for me. 20 years ago today, I was waking up in the Dallas home of my then boyfriend's mother. I had driven in the day before, had a lovely traditional New Year's Dinner - his mom made sure I found the lucky penny in the cornbread - and hit the town with the man that has become known to my circle of friends as the Jackass.

We were up very early the next day...he was driving me to California. This task wasn't originally meant to be his. It was to be my mother's. But 1985 was yet another dreadful Christmas. It was the last time my mother ever struck me. And in addition to her being so difficult to be around, Christmas was topped off with a family friend getting stabbed to death and my cousin's last attempt at suicide (she lived).

Mother used these events to back out of moving me to California. I really think she believed I would not go if she didn't take me. But she underestimated me. When I suggested the Jackass (she adored him; our dog didn't.... hmmmm), her response was to wonder what the neighbors would think of my traveling across the country and sharing a room with him. I still remember the astonished look on her face when I asked, "How will they know if you don't tell them?"

So 20 years ago today, the Jackass and I set out for Cali. I wanted to be a producer or so I thought back then. It only took me 15 or so years to realize that someone doesn't move that far from home to chase something. No, you move vast distances when you are running from something.

We had a blast driving here. He was the driver, I was the DJ. The car was so loaded down, I couldn't get out without placing a few cases and boxes on the ground beside the passenger door.

I was snoozing as we approached California. He tapped my arm and asked, "You were born in 64 right??"

"Yep."

"Find a 64 coin in your purse. Hurry!"

I dug around a bit and announced, "The best I can do is a 69 penny."

"O.K....Let me think... that's 5 years. O.K. add a nickel."

"Got it."

Silence.

"Can I ask why I sitting here with six cents in my hand?"

"Just wait."

Moments later, he was pulling the car off to the edge of the highway. We were right in front of the California State Line sign.

"Get out!"

"Wha?"

"GET OUT! Come on, hurry. It's cold." He dashed out of the car. I followed.

We jumped the barricade and ran west a few feet. He grabbed my shoulder to keep me from running into California. I straightened up and tried to see whatever it was he was so intent on showing me. It was cold and windy and I really had no clue what we were doing on the side of that highway.

He placed his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him.

"Look at that."

I looked at him questioning his sanity.

"That is California. Everything you've ever dreamed of is going to happen to you there. Everything you ever wanted to be, you will be there. You are home."

I had a huge lump in my throat. He had managed to address all my fears. Would I make it or would I tuck my tail between my legs and head back home? Would I even find a job? Could I just stay there long enough to not embarrass myself?

"Now, lean over and make a wish and place your coins over there."

I did as I was told, dropping my coins in the California sand.

"Now, take something for a memory."

I took a pretty rock. Still have it somewhere.

"Now that you're home, you drive. Let's get out of here. It's COLD!"

I raced back to the car to get out of the wind. As I was jumping the barricade, I realized he wasn't with me. He appeared to be digging in the dirt.

"What are you doing? I yelled.

"Covering up your money."

"Huh??"

"You never know when you'll be passing back by and need six cents!"

As I was thinking of this journey and what this man has been through the years in my life, I realized that his driving me here was truly the nicest thing he ever did for me. And I was suddenly dumbstruck with the revelation that this trip, this kindness was his ONLY job in my life.

Couldn't I have gotten this knowledge many, many years ago???

He wasn't the man I was "supposed" to marry. He certainly wasn't worth all the grief and anguish he put me through. He wasn't worthy of my faith or my love. He was only supposed to get me here. And that's just fine. He took me home and now, twenty years later, I finally realize what he was trying to tell me. This is my home. And home feels so good.

Velvet & Denim

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I had two New Year's last night: one fancy and one down-home style. First I got all dressed up in a Velvet pantsuit and headed to one of the casinos with Mom for a really nice dinner. We had seats overlooking the Mississippi at sunset and feasted on boiled shrimp, Alaskan crab legs and the most succulent Louisiana style marinated crab claws.

My sis and BIL picked me up and we headed out to Watson to my cousin's house. He had shrimp and corn soup, creyfish, pork roast, beer braised hen, and lots of other munchies. I changed into jeans, my coat, hat and gloves and we built a huge fire in his driveway. We bought a bunch of fireworks and watched the kids race about having a great time. My little cousin yelled "Happy New Year!" at every passing car. The adults took bets on which of the three kids would not make it til the new year. I bet on the youngest...the last new year I spent with them - 2005 - he dropped right smack in the front yard at 11:40 p.m. We just threw a blanket over him and woke him up at midnight. But this year, it was his older sister that faded. She went to sleep in our aunt's lap. All that well-wishing to passing cars must have sapped her strength.

It was great fun being with my cousin and sister. The three of us have been a real source of strength for each other - even though my sister is much older than my cousin and I. It brought back some great memories of all of us camping throughout my childhood.

All in all, a very pleasant evening. And Mom? She phoned from the casino at 7 this morning... she had just hit a jackpot. So maybe she'll be a little happier for a few days at least.

Best wishes for a joyful 2007 to all of you!