Vanity Insanity

Fresh from the Huffington Post's Style section, the newest form of humiliation for American women: La Decollette Cleavage Wrinkle-Prevention Bra.

According to the Huff Post, this product is described:

"At night, La Decollette will do her job very effectively.Because of this special bra, your breasts are more or less forced to stay in place so no vertical wrinkles will occur and your cleavage will stay smooth. After just 1 night you will see the difference and after 5 to 7 nights you will be amazed by the stunning result."

I'm stunned and amazed that 34% of readers voted it "a must buy." It looks like someone put their underwear over their head.

So 34% of Huff's readers would pay $70 for this odd form of night torture softened by two petite bows in the name of vanity?

Can this 34% just get a grip for a moment?

Aren't you tired of conforming to the padded and pushed up, molded and underwired expectations of our rack-obsessed culture? Shall we stand in front of the mirror contemplating the vertical wrinkles in our cleavage or should we contribute our intelligence, our fire and energy to the world? We are worth so much more.

New Tricks

Recently, I began a process, searching to find passionate pursuits, choosing life affirming things, in short, embracing my inner geek. And since

Geek-dom is now, apparently, cool

I can admit that I'm a book worm, I keep a journal and I like "Glee."

I started taking piano lessons, picking up from where I'd left off some never-mind-how-many years ago. Adding this to my life was a daunting task. First, I did not own a piano and convincing myself to spend the money to purchase one was a back-and-forth process fraught with self-doubt. What if this is a passing phase? What if the piano becomes a large dust catcher, it's keys cobwebbed to one another, a five-hundred-pound money pit? But what if I could learn to play again, play better than ever before?

Something about the word "play" lingered in my mind like a promise.

It's learning to listen and trust these inner stirrings that makes for a well-lived life.

I found a brilliant teacher. I found a piano that sings. I found my passion for music.

A whole new world opened for me. I've traded listening to repetitive "classic rock" for classical music, symphonies, introductions to composer's lives, different music genres, each a gem, an interesting continent worth exploring.

We're never too old to learn new things. Learning connects us to that childlike wonder that is tucked inside us, always at the ready.

My grandma used to tell me that learning new things keeps us young. And she's right.

Importance of Negative Space

The last few months of no blog postings exist in my mind as "negative space." There's content in the void. Much of the invisible discourse could be filed under "I don't want to talk." Introspection maybe.

I've been cancer free for a year. Every six months, I dance on the head of a pin, waiting for blood test results, tumor marker indications, CT scan results. Cancer check ups are difficult for most survivors. Our freedom, physical independence, future on the planet is either validated or threatened.

There's nothing like the validation of a CT scan. Throw away your crystal ball! The results are crystal clear.

Whew! Great sigh of relief!

Back home, I wake up. Instead of hitting the snooze, I move! There's a reason why I'm still here and I'd better get at it. There's a quiet joy to waking up early, writing before the day is fully lit. It's a sense of purpose. It's making conscious choices to spend my precious time doing life affirming things, living my life to its farthest flung edge!

Well, here's a gorgeous Saturday, a sunshine-filled rodeo day and yet my world is clouded by my recurring "it's a crap shoot" thought: 86% chance of survival over five years.
Sometimes I get hung up on this and, rational or irrational, the thought stays put. It's a counter-productive, energy sapping mood swinging thought that still has too much power in my life.
Somehow, I've got to beat that thought.
Sometimes the post-breast cancer pressure to be happy is overwhelming. Most of the pressure is self-created, partially due to that 86% survival thing.
Maybe it's the Tamoxifen, that jagged little pill I take every day to ward off a recurrence. It's a hormone swinging, banana peel transition to Menopause, a mature woman's condition with side effects that no one really gives a shit about unless you have them.
Oh, was that too cranky?
Now I know that all of this whining makes me seem I'm ungrateful for the miracles my medical team and oncologists everywhere perform every day to take women like me from fighting for our lives to living our lives out loud. Believe me, I'm grateful.
And, in honor of all of us who are fighting this dreaded disease, I will get out there in the sunshine and enjoy this beautiful day.
I'm just sayin' it "ain't" easy.

Energy

I want to change up the subject a bit, to talk about healing, that thing people call, "survivorship."
Survivorship is the journey.
We're all survivors of something, maybe several things. I was a survivor before I turned pink. Resilience is key to survival.
My friend Barbara survives breast cancer since the 1970's. She said, "Rather than asking "why me?" I ask, "why not me?""
None of us are immune from crisis. The crisis comes to test or teach.
I joined a Jazzercise group, a choreographed exercise and now I'm dancing my way to fitness. It challenges my post-treatment body. Still, I'm determined to heal fully, to gain fitness. Bonus--I'm making new friends.
Yoga is an important part of my personal plan for healing. It provides a meditative space, strength training and a good stretch.
Too much time spent in silence isn't a good experience for me, rather, I find I prefer the Jazzercise classes with its pounding rhythms, musical talk and laughter.
All of these activities demand energy, something I'm still building. I guess after almost a year of treatment with little physical activity, rebuilding strength and stamina takes time, determination and patience.
Patience is a virtue but I hear the clock ticking. I don't want to miss anything!
I've talked with a other cancer survivors and they agree, once touched by cancer, there's a footprint on your ass to live your life, every day, each moment. My friend Tammy says she feels like she has to "do it all" right now.
I'm still writing my list, deciding where I want to go, what to see, not wanting to overlook anything and doing the physical work to make sure that, should I be lucky enough to do some more traveling, I'll have the stamina to enjoy it.
Stay well!

LIFE Sentence

Today I'm thinking of and sending my best wishes to a good friend who was just diagnosed with a non-invasive breast cancer.

The first week after diagnosis can be a scary time where uncertainty rules and fear runs rampant. It seems nothing prepares you for this crisis. When they say, "cancer" you think "death sentence." But, that's just the fear talking and fear is crazy. Don't listen to it!

Another thing I'd like to get off my chest is all of these darned daytime TV doctor shows that barrage us with disease prevention ideas, almost lead us to believe that, "if you eat your broccoli, you'll never get a scary diagnosis." None of these shows prepares us for that moment. Very few offer advice or information that benefits us when we are the next recipient of a breast cancer diagnosis (or any other health crisis).

It's a scared shitless minutes-long eternity.

My oncologist told me that it's extremely important to receive treatment from a health care team. Notice I said TEAM. This team is made up of oncologist (she/he directs your care), oncology surgeon, plastic surgeon and radiology oncologist---and they all talk to each other. Then it's important to check what the big hospitals are doing (Dana Farber; M.D. Anderson) via their websites (and ask your oncologist). The place where I received great treatment is a sort of "sister" to Dana Farber and works like a university hospital. Specific breast cancer treatment information is available at Dana Farber's website:
http://www.dana-farber.org/pat/adult/breast-cancer/

It's next to impossible to think rationally during the first week after diagnosis. It's best to surround yourself with your favorite people and animals (if applicable), those who love you most, and be kind to yourself. Be your own best friend! Then know that there is a first class medical team out there committed and ready to give you great care and a cure!

One final note, I'm sharing my experience. I'm not a doc. Share any of this information with your physician. Go to the NCCS website listed on my blog and get your Cancer Survivor's Toolbox! Advocate for what's best for you! And enjoy your LIFE sentence!

White Caps

So, I'm in my kayak and it's a sunny day, but suddenly, an unexpected rain comes. White caps form on the water. I must concentrate to stay afloat, unable to look up, putting all my energy into moving through this unsettling moment in my life, hoping to staying upright.
My uncle passed away. One night he went to sleep and slipped into that state of peaceful grace. As a child, he was my favorite grown up. His quirky sense of humor, wise counsel, his love and care, I will miss. He's on another journey now, walking on that old road that leads us back to love's essence.
But the sun returned and shone brilliantly as I traveled to my daughter's university graduation. She's a very bright young lady who will pursue her passion: studying marine life. My family spent a weekend basking in the warm yellow light of her honorable achievement.
A few days later, choppy water. Unpredictable skies. A storm of my own making. My semi-annual check up. Is the cancer still gone? I worried. I allowed fear into my psyche. For a little while, I stopped believing in my oncologist's strong reach for "cure," in my surgeon's skill, my radiology oncologist's razor sharp accuracy, my family and friends' prayers and a benevolent god. I was scared shitless.
Why is it so hard to believe in the possibility that everything is alright? Or maybe that everything is as it should be?
In her article, "Slipping Past Borders," (Oprah mag, June 2010) Katherine Russell Rich writes, "When you're swamped with fear, ask yourself: How are you right now?" When uncertainty threatens she says the answer is, "Fine. Stay right here, in this day, stay right here in your mind."
By the time I got to my appointment, I'd already begun to feel lighter. Apparently my own mantra, "good things can happen," had a sinking in affect in spite of my conscious disbelief.
Good things happened. The sun is back. I'm snug and dry, kayaking this river, my journey, able to look up, way up, enjoying mountain peaks on the horizon.
(photo by photographer Nelu Goia, Canada, can be seen at www.trekearth.com).