Le Monde de Fromage de Kate

I have been horribly, TERRIBLY remiss. I have mentioned cancer many times and discussed those about whom I care who have been affected by this disease. I have talked about those we have lost, I have mentioned those for whom we have abiding hope and through it all I have completely neglected one of the most amazing cancer survivors I know.

She is my Aunt Linda. And she not only an inspirational survivor, she is one of the finest people I have ever met:

My Aunt Linda & Uncle Ralph
December 21, 2001

I may not have all the details of her cancer survival story correct, but I’ll do my best. I believe it started about twenty years ago, soon after Linda married my Uncle Ralph. They are such a wonderful couple and we were delighted that they found each other. Not long after the wedding, Linda was diagnosed with uterine cancer. She had a hysterectomy and radiation treatments. I cannot imagine what that was like; such a young, nurturing person having the possibility of bearing children taken away so suddenly.

But I have NEVER heard her gripe or bemoan her situation. In fact, my negligence in mentioning her incredible spirit and her embodiment of a survivor is due, in part, to the fact that she DOES NOT complain (not that this excuses me). I have only heard her mention her cancer treatment empathetically in order to comfort others. If she is troubled by something it takes a backseat to helping everyone else around her.

Instead of despairing and giving up, Linda and Ralph have enriched the lives of so many children. They served as loving foster parents for a number of troubled children. And, after the typically long journey and difficulty with the “system,” they adopted a son. For years they have given him such love, support and so many wonderful opportunities (a fact that is somewhat lost on him at the moment, but I believe very strongly that he will acknowledge someday).

Moreover, Linda is a nurse. She has overseen, with gentleness and compassion, the care of family members. She also serves as, I have no doubt, an “angel of mercy” at the State Mental Hospital. I have always maintained that it takes a very special individual to be a nurse. PERIOD. I think to be a nurse to the mentally ill must take twice or thrice the amazing patience and beneficence. I admire her more than I can say.

Linda is a person worth emulating in so many ways. She is like sunshine; when she visits she always walks into the door immediately radiating a kind and warm spirit. She is always ready to give a comforting and reassuring hug, a loving prayer (she and Uncle Ralph have a deep and abiding spirituality that they share in a generous yet thoughtful way with everyone they meet), a nonjudgmental listening ear and completely selfless expressions of love for everyone and everything.

I want her to know how highly I regard her and how much I love her. She is an incredible example of a humble and noble individual. Thank you, Aunt Linda, for all your sweet-tempered, bighearted encouragement. It is a gift to have you in my life!

“Chain, Chain, CHAIN…. Chain, Chain, CHAIAIAIAIAIAIAIAN – Chain of …”

Oh – Sorry. I was just remembering what a fun song that is to sing at Karaoke bars. Mind you, THAT song is all about a “chain of fools,” whereas I’ve been contemplating Mic’s concept of a chain.

His chain would be comprised of…well, NOT fools. Rather, each link would be comprised of a discerning individual who comprehended a more global “vision” and who cared deeply about the sort of issues that affect us all, especially the treatment of, research for and support of those affected by cancer.

It reminds me of that old shampoo commercial in which one woman, so intensely satisfied with her mind-blowing shampooing experience that she fervently suggests, “You tell two friends, and they tell two friends, and so on and so on….” until the screen is chock-full of the head-shots of women who are suspiciously ecstatic about that particular hair care product (I don’t even remember which one it was – I just know it wasn’t the beer shampoo, because that said something about, “You HEAD can’t get drunk” – right?). Sorry. This is a horrible metaphor in that it’s so cheesy that it will clog our brains with “thought cholesterol.”

On the other hand, the concept of even ONE person telling another person and THAT person sharing the information with one person or perhaps SEVERAL people is something that can make an amazing impact. You know that game, “gossip?” Never mind. That doesn’t really apply here, because I would hope that THIS message wouldn’t get distorted into unintelligible gobbledygook.

It IS, however, a little like the concept of “six degrees of separation.” OR “Six degrees of Kevin Bacon.” FYI, I’m either four or five degrees from Kevin Bacon (with the given that we’re counting “industrial” films and making it only four if we count TV appearances – TV SERIES, not awards shows).

But let me ACTUALLY and TRULY get to the point: Jennette, my Dear Cousin, YOU ARE LINK NUMERO UNO in this “chain of hope,” as imagined by Michele Capaccioli and Henrike Hirsch and embodied in the LIVESTRONG® European Cycling Team, which endeavors to raise A LOT of money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation (and I intend to talk on another occasion why I think one should donate to the Lance Armstrong Foundation). You even got your VERY OWN International mention.

I thank you so much, and my Dad is very honoured. Mic had this to say in one of his LIVESTRONG® European Cycling Team articles:

As far as my fundraising campaign is concerned, it seems to me we have the power to assist the progress of research under the premise that “every little bit helps.” If 1,000 people simple donated $25 (USD) or one hundred people managed to donate $250 (USA) we would reach our goal

And I actually think we can break it down even further. How about 10,000 people donating $2.50? Someone recently mentioned to me that she only had, “Three dollars and twelve pennies to my [her] name.” So $2.50 falls well within that budget. I’m NOT being facetious (not about the actual ISSUE, anyway).

I do believe that EVERY little bit counts; every ten dollars or a dollar or even a penny gets us just a little closer to the goal. Mic says it best:

Some might argue that it is, at the very least, a difficult effort, and, at the worst, an insurmountable objective. Nevertheless, as stated many years ago by Tommy Lasorda, “The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in man’s determination.”

Please help this admirable cause

So, YOU tell two friends, they tell two friends, and so on and so on and so on…

Happy Birthday, Dad – you old fuzzer*!!!

I hope you enjoy those lovely Cd’s that arrived oh-so-fortuitously the day before your birthday which I bedecked with the festive bow . The fact that you chose them, ordered them and purchased them for yourself is not particularly germane, right? At least it’s not like those Christmases when I wrapped up all the Cd’s that I’d borrowed from you over that particular year and then gave them to you as a present (ha – that was FUNNY).

Here I offer you carrots with which to make your most favourite kind of cake:

TrÚs chic carrots, yes? AND they are much better than these:

And there’s THIS one:

I do not believe that vegetables should have the power to gawk at one NOR should they be able to ogle AND saunter about under their own power. Well, I guess potatoes can have “eyes,” but they should not be able to stare at anyone.

Oh. And you shall not have THIS cake, notwithstanding the lovely pineapple, because it has SATAN’S EVEYBALLS all over it. Ewww.
Anyhoo, Happiest of Happy Days, Dad. I love you!
AND MANY, MANY MORE!!!

*That is HIS expression, not mine.

Last LIVESTRONG® Day, May 17, 2006, I participated in one of the suggested activities: Blog Against Cancer. It was in a comment from this entry that I first became “acquainted” with Mic:

Hey you all,

for the LAF I’m a Cancer Survivor. I have recently lost my father for a tumor, but I continue being strong and wearing the yellow wristband in memory of my dad, granddads and other people. Few years ago I received some advices from Lance and the LAF and they still are very preciuos[sic]. I own a blog on www.micheleer2.splinder.com: here there are on the right-hand side some links to the LAF etc and I was wondering if I could add this blog (and possibly others for the fight against cancer) to my links.

Look forward to receiving an answer.

Yours Sincerely,

Mr. Michele Capaccioli

We exchanged links (oh, this cyber age) and I began to correspond with Mic (that’s the equivalent of “Mike” for all you Americans – but pronounced “MEEK,” more or less). I learned a few things right off the bat from his site: He loves “sport,” he likes Family Guy and The Simpsons – and – sheesh – there was something else – OH YES – he is a passionate, articulate grassroots supporter of Worldwide collaborative cancer advocacy.

As I have mentioned in passing, my Italian is not too great (unless you’d like me to speak the lyrics to arias and art songs in a realistically conversational manner); I also know some threatening phrases and several that could get me in *ahem* trouble on the streets of Italy. Luckily, Mic’s English is FAR better. In fact, he speaks SIX languages – WAIT – seven: Italian, English, French, German, Spanish, and some Russian and Japanese. I hate him. (I’m KIDDING Mic – I’m being FACETIOUS.) He has a university diploma in Social Science and is now studying International Sciences and European Institution. I HATE HIM. (Again, Mic, you know I’m teasing, ci?)

He began discussing his goal to build a website that focused on important social issues, particularly cancer advocacy, and invited me to take part in this endeavor. I feel very strongly about these issues (as if I haven’t made that obsessively clear already), so I was honoured by the invitation. He did all the hard work, I made a few suggestions, and the site launched officially, as I mentioned in passing, on February 23, 2007. I am the American/English Web Site Advisor and I have a section on the page called “Believe in Life.” Mic, Official Site Founder Extraordinaire, writes about five hundred sections (slight exaggeration) and has coordinated with friends, family and colleagues who are writing or editing other sections.

Please Visit the Site

Please bear in mind that I have not successfully fulfilled all my obligations as American/English Web Site Advisor, but you are not to hold that against Mic. His English is impressive, especially considering that when you speak seven languages English can only be MORE confusing and illogical than it already is. Wait – I should tell you HOW to access the English site (unless your Italian is far better than mine). If you land on the Italian home page, just hit the tiny American flag (top, right-hand) and you’ll be in the English-language section.

Now I’ll mention another of Mic’s worthy undertakings. He and a colleague are putting together a European Cycling Team to participate in the Ride for the Roses at the LIVESTRONG® Challenge in Austin, Texas. In order to participate in this celebratory event honouring the LAF‘s most successful and enthusiastic supporters, each participant much raise at least $10,000 (USD) before September 4, 2007. Mic’s personal goal is to raise $25,000 (USD). I have made a commitment to assist him in this ambitious undertaking. Mic has explained to me that it’s difficult to raise money in Europe; people aren’t well acquainted with the Lance Armstrong Foundation and don’t understand the amazing scope of its influence and the positive effects this charity has in the World. I hope that the International collaborative work compiled on WeMustAct.org will be influential as an educational tool in this regard.

If Mic makes it to Ride for the Roses, he made this promise to me:

I would like to do that this year, riding in memory of the people you mentioned in your first two articles if you allow me to do that. In fact, even if I have to wear ‘hundreds’ of piece of papers in which there will be written names and names It does not a matter.

So, PLEASE, in accordance with the well-worn proverb, “Every little bit counts,” consider making a donation to Mic and to this cause. Every single dollar goes to benefit the Lance Armstrong Foundation and the incredible work it does. Click below to get to Mic’s fundraising page:

In the middle of December I received a holiday dispatch from dear friends of mine, The Andersons. Amber wrote the letter (with the support of her “posse”):

Emmry Kate, Morgan, Kendyl & Amber

Here’s the excerpt from the letter that delighted me the most:

In March the daughter of a former smoker, still known as Glen, encountered the scare of a child’s lifetime: the big C. Lung cancer not only brought us together, but it strengthened us all in individual ways. Though my dad can now be referred to as “one-lung Houdy”, he is also proudly known as a lung cancer survivor. I now formally believe in miracles. Who knew that my mother who became a teacher because she couldn’t be a nurse (couldn’t stand the sight of blood) could be the best nurse in the world through two surgeries and three months of chemo? They are my heroes.

This was, truly, unbelievable news. The prognosis for Amber’s Father had been extremely grim; this was a thrilling, unforeseen miracle.

Then, a little more than a month ago I received an email from Amber that said, in part:

My dad’s recovery from lung cancer was joyous the past 3 months, but suddenly there was a problem, and the cancer spread to his brain. The doctors say he has a week to months to live.

So devastating. Today I received the news that Amber’s Father, Glen Houdersheldt, had succumbed to his disease a little more than a week ago. I write this entry in his memory.
Glen F. Houdersheldt

December 10, 1937 – February 16, 2007

Here’s a link to his obituary with a guestbook you can sign, which will be available, I believe until March 20, 2007.

My deepest sympathies and all my love go out to his family and his friends. I feel deeply honoured to have been acquainted with such a wonderful man – always so full of life and humour; I am truly lucky to know such an incredible family. I believe that it must have been a great blessing that Glen had the comfort of his loving family around him when he died. And as difficult as it was (I cannot conceive of how hard it must have been), I can only imagine that they felt privileged to have been there.

I love you, Amber and Morgan!

Today is the official launch of WeMustAct.org, an International collaborative effort to present information about cancer issues and advocacy as well as other important social concerns. I have a lot more to say about this site (I suppose I have plenty to say about MOST things), but I’m going to get back to it just a little bit later.

Please check out the site! It may be in its infancy, but it still has a lot to offer.

Huzzah! Since we can read memory cards again and access a USB port without getting behind the computer (Merci ad nauseum, Guru), it’s time for me to catch up. Hair-do’s first, naturally.

Sarah had her haircut for the first time in – let’s see – going on TWO YEARS! Okay, though losing it completely during that time period should probably count as a major haircut, I’m afraid you get no assistance from a stylist for that one.

Sarah was understandably hesitant for anyone to get near her lengthening tresses with SCISSORS or the like, but the general consensus was that she needed some SHAPE to her “do.” We all assured her it didn’t have to actually be shorter, but it would really benefit from some selective styling.

Besides, when given the chance, that girl’s hair grows like wildfire! She used to grow “fuzz” between chemo rounds and she NEVER lost very many of her disgustingly-long eyelashes or her eyebrows (as many do as a chemotherapy side-effect). And when her hair started growing out again (during radiation, as it was only her “mantle” region that was the target) it made alarming progress. And the CURLS! I’m not certain exactly where those came from. She had wavy hair (if I remember correctly) as a baby, but these are seriously curly CURLS. It’s possibly a side-effect from the chemo – hard to say.

Anyhoo, my Mom convinced her to go to an appointment with Janet’s special curly-hair stylist and get a “shaping trim” and some advice.

In case you’re wondering, after spending seven thousand years trying to get rid of a weird shadow by her lip (ever so unsuccessfully) I gave up and decided to be whimsically artsy instead. In other words, it ain’t pretense, it’s incompetency.

Of course she looks absolutely lovely. She looked good bald, too. Ah, the young and beautiful. This is the “straightened” version of her new coif – trÚs chic. And even she was pleased.

And as an FYI to those keeping track of these things, Sarah’s last quarterly scans where very good. She still has some bulky scar tissue (and may always), but there’s nothing cancerous therein. And forgive me for being maybe too personal (though isn’t that my privilege as an Aunt, Sarah?), but her ovaries were the only thing that “glowed.” She was assured that this is very good news and may bode well for her reproductive future. I think that’s wonderful.

P.S. Note to Will: Glowing ovaries do not denote any super-powers.

There are those who don’t believe that my reasons for not leaving the house much are compelling. Ah, but consider this: Last Wednesday I’d fallen asleep in a chair and missed the dress rehearsal for “The False Prophet.” Yet Sarah still needed me to bring her the video of The Natural History of the Chicken during her lunch break so they could watch it in her religious studies class.

I drove the tape over to her high school and happened to park right behind a police car. While in the process of “tele-locating” Sarah, I noticed that in the cop car, on the divider window between the driver’s seat and the “perp” section of the vehicle (that should answer the question about whether or not I watch too many re-runs of all various editions of Law and Order and CSI) there was a sign – a professionally-lettered sign in large capital letters (big enough for me to read even though I’m extremely overdue to get new glasses). The sign read, “STUPID.”

I REALLY wanted a picture of this. But by the time I had re-set my camera phone with the right flash setting so that I take ANY semblance of a recognizable image at all, the police officer got in his car and drove away. Little did I know, this was not merely an amusing oddity, but a SIGN (metaphorically as well as literally) – something portending events in my immediate future. Alas, I did not recognize this foreshadowing.

So after purchasing Gerbera daisies for the Monkey Cats in four different hues (a mistake, I came to find, because NO ONE WANTS ORANGE) and paying a little extra for them to use lemon leaves instead of odious leather-leaf and making sure there were water tubes and purloining tons of little insert cards that said things completely irrelevant to a vocal performance like “Get Well Soon” and “It’s a BOY” and “Happy Birthday,” I was on my way.

I was driving through the “river-bottoms” (as the locals say) and, admittedly, not really paying attention to my speed, etc. Then, as a wretched nightmare from my past, I saw flashing lights in my rear-view mirror. Yes, I was speeding. And though it has been ages since I got a ticket (I’ve grown a little and chilled out the lead foot – REALLY), I know the drill. I don’t get warnings. I get CITATIONS (with the one notable exception of my twenty-first birthday upon which I deigned to use a pitiful, wheedling voice and say, “But it’s my BIRTHDAY” – I almost was serenaded by police officers, but they were too shy in the end to sing to me). I don’t have the necessary blonde bimbo appearance to avoid tickets, I guess (my apologies to blonde bimbos but your sexy wiles deserve a SMALL mention because I sincerely doubt you’ve gone to traffic school five gazillion times and had your license suspended, etc.).

And I knew it wouldn’t do any good to attempt to explain to the officer that after I’d delivered The Natural History of the Chicken to my niece who’d HAD CANCER and run an errand to purchase gifts for DESERVING YOUNG PEOPLE, that it had been imperative, for reasons that I couldn’t really put into words, that I sing along intensely and vociferously (and repeatedly) with a delightfully angry Avril Lavigne song and that’s why I hadn’t noticed my speed. But, OH JOY, since my record has been clean, I CAN GO TO TRAFFIC SCHOOL AGAIN!!! By now I am practically a traffic school connoisseur. I shall have to post an update as to how the local traffic school stacks up to my previous experiences.

Later in the afternoon, it was time for the “Solo and Ensemble” competition. I should say right off that I am NOT a great pianist at this point in time. I do have the ability that I consider imperative from a singer’s perspective for any accompanist, which is to damn the torpedoes, JUST KEEP PLAYING. Nevertheless, every so often, when I’m teaching a voice lesson or the like, I start the introduction to something and I just HAVE to stop because the piece of music I’ve just played has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the notes or the key or the time signature on the page. Then I halt, momentarily baffled, and start again playing something much more akin to the written music.

Now, in my defense, I’d run through “The False Prophet” with the Monkey Cats on what I must describe as several different “honky-tonk” pianos (each incapable of playing several key notes – different ones, depending on the piano). Then I’d run through the accompaniment on my own piano (admittedly not enough). But when we went to perform, after I’d reminded them to all look alive (unlike the bulk of the singers we’d seen who looked more or less like zombie automatons) and to NOT utilize the “Adam and Eve” hand position (just think about it – you’ll get it), I sat down at the grand piano in the High School Choir room.

I’ve never played this piano before (though I don’t suppose that’s really an excuse). So the Monkey Cats are standing poised and ready, I’m poised and ready at the piano, and I proceeded to play an introduction so completely unrelated to the piece that follows that I might as well have favoured everyone with an impromptu rendition of La Marseillaise or Pour Some Sugar. I did have the presence of mind to just keep going, squelching the nigh-unto-overwhelming impulse to make it into a most amusing Victor Borge-esque moment in which I would have stopped, looked quizzically down at the keyboard, had a “light-bulb” moment, opened the piano lid and pulled a rubber chicken out of it. Then, after tossing the chicken into the audience I’d have sat down as though nothing had happened, played the introduction semi-perfectly and everyone would have had a hearty laugh. Ha ha ha.

Luckily, I don’t believe that the skills or lack thereof of the accompanist made any difference in the scoring of their performance. The Monkey Cats did very well with their singing even after hearing the somewhat Avant-garde selection I sprung on them right before they were to open their mouths.

Last year, after singing, I took the Monkey Cats and at least one Monkey Cat Boyfriend to Taco Hell, where we spent $42.11 on food. AMERICAN. I kid you not. ALL of the girls remembered the amount to the penny. They wanted to go again this year (tradition, of course), but we had fewer Monkey Cats in the first place (and we were missing one, actually, so they substituted the “Honorary” Monkey Cat, Josh) and everyone’s boyfriend was either gone or being a “dweeb.” Consequently, we only spent a paltry $26 and forty-something cents.

At Taco Hell, when the subject of my butt somehow came up (it always “ends” up there, no pun intended), and they all reminded me with pride that they’d not poked me in the tookus or jiggled my posterior, Monkey Cat Nessa proceeded to poke my left lunch-lady arm and exclaim loudly something to the effect of, “See, she JIGGLES.” I laid down the law at this point, saying that Hoppy and Bob were OFF-LIMITS, too (thank you, Garrison Keillor).

Then I told M.C. Nessa to “look right at me and pay attention” and went on to regale her – and yes I used these very words – with a “cautionary tale” about making fun of certain behaviors or parts of peoples’ bodies because Karma would come and, pardon my saying so, BITE YOU IN THE ASS. I
used several examples from my own life.

I think, perhaps, the timing might not have been right, as they were well onto their way to being completely punch-drunk. Oh well.

But, HEY MONKEY CATS!!! YES, OVER HERE!!!! I’M HOLDING UP SOMETHING VERY SPARKLY AND SHINY!!! Okay. My young and innocent friends, please consider what I had to say when you are feeling calm (perhaps at the dentist – semi-anesthetized) and if you REMEMBER what I said, know that it is true and beware of the Karma. Thank you.

Just a few other things briefly:

• Josh, the Honorary Monkey Cat, can “read” your nose. I’m not going to attempt to explain this right now. And he has a Cherokee butt (he said so himself – don’t think that I’M being inappropriate).
• The daisy lies to “Doris.” Also, that song could be made ribald, lewd and utterly FILTHY with very little effort.
• A Mr. Pringle wrote “The False Prophet.” I do not know whether or not this is the perfectly-shaped potato chip magnate Pringle or a completely random Pringle who had nothing to do with the idea of smushing up the potatoes and then reforming them into symmetrical potato-smush shapes (genius, really – processing processed food for symmetrical/aesthetic purposes and so they fit such a lovely cylindrical container).

Please take a look at this inspiring video featuring Lance Armstrong. Consider joining the “army” that will make cancer a national priority.

You could also:

• Send an eCard to a friends and family with a link to the Lance’s video.
• Be part of LIVESTRONG® Day, May 16, 2007. Here’s more information:
  

  LIVESTRONG Day is our annual grassroots advocacy effort to unify people affected by cancer. In its fourth year, the goal of LIVESTRONG Day is to raise awareness about cancer survivorship issues on a national level and in local communities across the country. LIVESTRONG Day is about doing something to make a difference in the fight against cancer.

  

  You can apply to represent your state on Capitol Hill on LIVESTRONG® Day, apply to organize a LIVESTRONG® event in your own community, or just get additional information about LIVESTRONG® Day 2007.

• Earlier this month, Lance Armstrong was featured in a one-hour special presentation, Saving Your Life. If you missed the broadcast (as did I), you can listen to an audio podcast on the Saving Your Life website.

  You can also watch survivor videos, locate a cancer screening center near you, share your story of survivorship and more.

• Read Lance’s CNN op-ed piece, Lance Armstrong: Patience running thin with D.C..
• Join the LIVESTRONG® team and receive the LIVESTRONG® and Advocacy newsletters
• Support the Lance Armstrong Foundation by wearing and buying yellow. Even your DOG can wear yellow now!
• Take a look at this heartbreakingly beautiful photo essay, The Bride Was Beautiful, that captures a bittersweet moment in the fight against cancer in series of striking images by 2006 NPPA award-winner, Romain Blanquart (thanks for posting the link, Terry).

Okay – it’s not ALL ABOUT SARAH’S HAIR; I’m not obsessed. However, I feel that there is something to the idea that all the changes to that crazy head of hair do, in some very small way, symbolize her journey this past couple of years. And like I said yesterday:

But somehow, it’s as though one can admire the wonderment of healing and nature through something that most people take for granted – the seemingly mundane – the tresses of a young lady. And a wonderful young lady she is.

No mincing words here; I’m a geek. I just quoted MYSELF, and, what’s more, it was something I wrote YESTERDAY. Ugh.

Let’s go back to Sarah instead. It’s possible I may have already mentioned this: She has had what they define as a “complete response” to chemo and radiation. She tolerated the chemo very well (considering that’s on the scale of how WRETCHED it can make you feel). And the Hazmat Emergency Responders only had to come and evacuate everyone ONCE, and it wasn’t Sarah’s fault (I do love the irony that it takes a suited-up Hazmat crew to clean up fluid that they are INJECTING INTO THE BODIES OF CHILDREN).

After she finished her rounds of chemo, Sarah opted to have her broviac catheter removed (I think she really, REALLY wanted to shower ALL AT ONCE). And after chemo her hair started growing in earnest – in CRAZY, wild, swift earnest (until a stalk reached the sky and Jack climbed up it, and there was a GIANT – wait, that’s a different story). The effects of each radiation treatment made her feel progressively worse as they went along, but it was over soon enough to be bearable. Moreover, during THAT time she didn’t have to have anyone ask if she’d “flushed” that day (heparinized her line and injected saline into it). She was also able to go off the cortisone (that accompanies chemo and all its meds) and start to lose the resultant “moon face.”

I may not have mentioned before (and should have) that Sarah’s last set of scans looked great. She still has some extra lymphatic tissue, but the doctors seem quite certain that it’s just, essentially, scare tissue. Her Hodgkin’s Lymphoma was of the “bulky” variety. That means that tumor cells can actually inhabit a “framework” of non-cancerous cells (making already large tumors even more pronounced). The tumors are gone, but some of that “framework” has remained as a kind of residual scarring. At least that’s how I understand it.

I still cannot get over seeing some of her initial scans. The tremendous extent to which the largest tumor was pushing her trachea out of line was appalling. I honestly don’t know how she breathed and sang and spoke as well as she did. To say she was a trooper is an understatement of gargantuan proportions.

And NOW, don’t you think we should put the follicular journey in PICTURES?

As you probably know, click on an image to see a bigger version. And it’s TRUE (and obvious); I do not know how to make a pretty “gallery.” Please notice, though, that I made each and every thumbnail the same WIDTH. And it is an interesting mosaic…

Sarah Writes a Missive to Her Man
Amidst the Detritus (lovin’ that word) of Her Birthday Party