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Showing posts from June, 2008

Chemo Curls

Enough said. Actually, if you have a minute, I have a short story (honest) about my hair.

Ocho, I, my brother and his cute wife went to the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss concert at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley last night. We had to park far away, and the air was smoky (from all the NorCal fires) and foggy. So foggy, in fact, that it was misting. After about three minutes, you could see my hair curling. Like slow-motion photography of a tender little shoot pushing through the earth and growing into a plant. Only faster. And curlier. By the time we got to the Greek, I was Linc (see Totally Mod).

Fortunately, Ocho thought it was cute. Yet another reason to love him.

The concert last night was stunningly beautiful. As I sat there in the dense fog, listening to the improbable but perfect duo of Alison Krauss and Robert Plant, feeling my hair curling and twisting, I felt a peace settle on me and sink into my soul.



PS: To my big sis: Jannie, doesn't my hair like this remind you of when I was i…

Mothers with Cancer

I recently was asked to be part of a new blog called Mothers with Cancer. These women know how to deal with adversity with that perfect blend of intelligence, compassion, spunk and bite that just wags my tail!



Go read what these 17 women have to say, including the creator of the site, the brilliant Susan (really, she's a NASA scientist), who also blogs at Toddler Planet.

Another of the 17 is Andrea of Punk Rock Mommy. This articulate, feisty mom of six was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer the day after she got her college degree. She's fighting the good fight, but she needs love and prayers now. Send yours her way, if you would.

Also read Jenni Ballantyne of The Comfy Place. She's just gorgeous. Inside and out.

Heck, take the rest of the day off and read them all. They're all truly amazing.

Love to you.

Succulent

Ocho and I drove to the City this afternoon, hoping to get into the Dale Chihuly exhibit at the De Young. It was sold out. So instead we ambled through Golden Gate Park and into the botanical garden cactus sale, where Ocho bought seven vibrant green succulents.

The stress of selecting only seven of those luscious plants must have exhausted the guy, because it’s 9 o’clock on a Saturday night and Ocho’s in bed sleeping like a rugby player.

No worries. That means I can stay up late and write about a topic that is difficult to write about—my changing body.

I was extraordinarily proud of myself after going through chemo without gaining a pound. In fact, looking back, that was a sweet time. I was flat, and I was bald. But I was loved. And I knew I wasn’t always going to be flat and bald. Those were temporary experiences.

Then I went through 28 sessions of radiation. I would arrive at the Dorothy B. Schneider Cancer Center at 8 a.m., have Tony or Wayne radiate me, apply anti-burn gel to my rad…