I returned from the YSC conference in Dallas and I am happy to report that this year was quite different than last year. Better, stronger, faster...............
Last year the conference was in Jacksonville, Florida. That is a long flight. My flying buddy had an anxiety attack (the likes of which I have NEVER seen) and had to deplane before we left Seattle. It was so annoying (not her panic) but the flight attendants. OMG they kept saying, "We have seen this before and she will be F-I-N-E once we are airborne."
I looked to my friend and responded, "Does that look FINE to you? She is clearly not FINE. She needs to get off this plane." She was a puddle of goo.
They said, "We have already moved away from the jet-way, she'll be FINE."
There was quite a bit of back and forth and I said, "Just back the G.D. plane up and let her off or we are going to have a real problem." Fortunately, they did and she was fine.
So this was how my first trip to the YSC conference started. I long flight (red-eye) worrying about my friend and thinking that this was a sign, a bad one.
When I arrived in Jax everything felt surreal. It seemed like everyone else knew what to do but I didn't. They knew where to go, they had friends there, they had little treatment groups that bopped around the conference together with matching T-shirts. Basically, unlike me, they all had it together or knew someone or read the instructions. I was just totally overwhelmed. The pink factor was so high is was nauseating. It was a sea of pink.
Red sea, Blue sea, Pink sea, get me out of here now!
Everyone at the conference was delineated by a plastic lei. Blue for caregivers and yellow for health-care workers. Purple, green, white for years of survival, white being less than one year. Orange for mets. There I was dazed and confused and my albatross was a white and an orange plastic lei. I have mets and have had it for less than one year. I felt like Hester Prynne with her scarlet "A."
Here is what really blew my mind. I looked out into this large group of women with breast cancer that are under the age of 40 who have the time, the home support and the money to attend this conference and all I see is the orange and white. I know it is just like when you get a new car and then all you see on the road is that new car but it was so representative of the horror of this disease. These women at the conference were the fortunate few. How many others were out there with MBC who weren't represented there in Jacksonville with plastic leis.
I spent a lot of time in my room. I was so physically exhausted and emotionally sick that I couldn't bear it. I made friends with 4 women at the conference: Danica, Valerie, Beth and Dayna. That was it. The only people I really interacted with the whole weekend. Then on the way to the airport when I was just about to completely fall apart due to pain, both physical and mental, some BC sisters took care of me. They didn't know me but they could see the anguish, heck they could probably smell it coming off of me like an odor. Diane, Yuri and Heather probably saved me in that moment at the airport. Without them I probably would not have made it home (in all senses of the word.)
This year I set up some exit options and some alternative activities which was a good thing for me. I came in on Thursday and had dinner with my girlfriends Anne and Eileen. We went to this amazing restaurant that was opened by a guy who went to my high school!!! Apparently there is a large contingent of people from Washington who have moved to Dallas. Who knew? Then my friend Eileen stayed on until Saturday. I could go to the workshops and catch up with folks and then come back to my room and chill and hang out with Eileen. Just having these little things to do that weren't centered around breast cancer completely changed my outlook and thus changed my experience at the conference.
I had a really good time. I learned a lot, I hooked up with a lot of women I only email with on the YSC boards or FaceBook and I danced and had Taco Bueuno! I wasn't overwhelmed and it wasn't info overload. I feel so lucky that I could go. I really owe this opportunity to Matt. Matt can handle the home front with an adroitness most Mom's don't have. He makes this soirees possible and I really thank him for that. There are many other women who could not attend solely because their husbands could not handle home life without them (hometards.) Thanks again sweetie heart!
I kept my eyes open. I saw Dayna, Diane and Valerie. They looked wonderful and all reported wellness in their worlds. Beth, Yuri and Heather couldn't make it this year and sadly Danica passed last year. I wrote a little remembrance card for her. She was a bright spot in the darkness of my 1st YSC conference.
At my 2nd YSC Conference I was on the lookout for the girl with the orange and white plastic leis with fear in her eyes and anguish in her heart. If she was there I didn't see her. I have graduated to orange and green leis and clearly that makes all the difference.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Cruisin'
Matt has made all the arrangements and we are going on a cruise! I can't believe it! I never thought I was the kind of person who would be a 'cruiser' but now I welcome it. This trip was amazing! Maui was an amazing trip too but unfortunately because I can't carry anything Matt became the Sherpa for our family. On this cruise we got to unpack, sit back and relax. The heaviest thing Matt had to lift for most of the trip was a beer.
We left out of Miami which is an ENORMOUS port. Our ship was the Carnival Valor. We had two "fun" days at sea and stopped at the port of Belize City, Rhotan Island Honduras, Cozumel Mexico and Grand Caymans. Each stop had something completely wonderful about it. In the Caymans we took the girls to "hang with the manta rays" and in Cozumel they got to "swim with the dolphins." These are experiences they will never forget and we did it as a family. The other two ports we just did beach days. It was so nice to just go to these white sand beaches and play in the water and drink beers under the palapa.
Cruising is really a hobby verging on sport for some. There are websites devoted to cruising. Cruisers post by their profiles how many times they have been and all the ships they have been on. I have nothing to compare but I thought the ship was lovely. It was so clean and the staff was so helpful and kind. There was always something going on and there was a camp set up for the kids. We were really fortunate to be on the top floor of the ship that had staterooms. This was a huge plus!! We had a balcony and nice neighbors (all seasoned cruisers stay on the top deck!) It was tight quarters but tight in a fun way. The girls were fascinated by the bed that popped out of the ceiling. Additionally, our steward made a different animals out of towels everyday for the girls. At the end of the cruise you could purchase the book "How to make towel animals" at home if you wanted too. We passed.
The amount of food and the ability to get food any time day or night was absurd. There were probably 10 restaurants, 6 buffets, 5 short order windows. I put on 10 pounds during the trip. Basically a pound a day for 10 days of vacation. That is what makes it so attractive because the food in all included. It's the alcohol that gets you...............always does.
When we got into Miami on the return we stayed overnight at a hotel because we had a really early flight. To complete our trip we had dinner at the Hooter's in Miami. It was voted the #1 Hooters for 2007 and 2008. The award for for gross sales not cup size I found out. The amount of money those gals made in tips was probably astounding. It was the perfect end to a wonderful vacation where we spent our time laughing at ourselves and at others.
We returned to rainy, snowy Seattle tanned, rested and relaxed. It was an awesome vacation and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I am a cruiser now!
We left out of Miami which is an ENORMOUS port. Our ship was the Carnival Valor. We had two "fun" days at sea and stopped at the port of Belize City, Rhotan Island Honduras, Cozumel Mexico and Grand Caymans. Each stop had something completely wonderful about it. In the Caymans we took the girls to "hang with the manta rays" and in Cozumel they got to "swim with the dolphins." These are experiences they will never forget and we did it as a family. The other two ports we just did beach days. It was so nice to just go to these white sand beaches and play in the water and drink beers under the palapa.
Cruising is really a hobby verging on sport for some. There are websites devoted to cruising. Cruisers post by their profiles how many times they have been and all the ships they have been on. I have nothing to compare but I thought the ship was lovely. It was so clean and the staff was so helpful and kind. There was always something going on and there was a camp set up for the kids. We were really fortunate to be on the top floor of the ship that had staterooms. This was a huge plus!! We had a balcony and nice neighbors (all seasoned cruisers stay on the top deck!) It was tight quarters but tight in a fun way. The girls were fascinated by the bed that popped out of the ceiling. Additionally, our steward made a different animals out of towels everyday for the girls. At the end of the cruise you could purchase the book "How to make towel animals" at home if you wanted too. We passed.
The amount of food and the ability to get food any time day or night was absurd. There were probably 10 restaurants, 6 buffets, 5 short order windows. I put on 10 pounds during the trip. Basically a pound a day for 10 days of vacation. That is what makes it so attractive because the food in all included. It's the alcohol that gets you...............always does.
When we got into Miami on the return we stayed overnight at a hotel because we had a really early flight. To complete our trip we had dinner at the Hooter's in Miami. It was voted the #1 Hooters for 2007 and 2008. The award for for gross sales not cup size I found out. The amount of money those gals made in tips was probably astounding. It was the perfect end to a wonderful vacation where we spent our time laughing at ourselves and at others.
We returned to rainy, snowy Seattle tanned, rested and relaxed. It was an awesome vacation and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I am a cruiser now!
Monday, January 19, 2009
On not 'beating' cancer
On not 'beating' cancer
by Brian Doyle, Guest opinion
Saturday January 17, 2009, 7:17 AM
Martial words reflect illusory mind-set against illness
Finally, this morning, enough -- I read one too many journalistic references to someone's "beating" cancer, as if cancer was an opponent to be defeated, an enemy to be conquered, a battle in which courage often wins the day.
It is a lie. Cancer is to be endured, that's all. The best you can hope for is to fend it off, like a savage dog, but cancer isn't defeated, it only retreats, is held at bay, retires, bides its time, changes form, regroups. It may well be that the boy who survives an early cancer lives a long and lovely life, without ever enduring that species of illness again, but the snarl of it never leaves his heart, and you'll never hear that boy say he defeated the dark force in his bones.
Use real words. Real words matter. False words are lies. Lies sooner or later are crimes against the body or the soul. I know men, women and children who have cancer, had cancer, died from cancer, lived after their cancer retreated, and not one of them ever used military or sporting metaphors that I remember.
All of them spoke of endurance, survival, the mad insistence of hope, the irrepressibility of grace, the love and affection and laughter and holy hands of their families and friends and churches and clans and tribes. All of them were utterly lacking in any sort of cockiness or arrogance; all of them developed a worn, ashen look born of pain and patience; and all of them spoke not of winning but of waiting.
A great and awful lesson is contained there, it seems to me, something that speaks powerfully of human character and possibility. For all that we speak, as a culture and a people, of victory and defeat, of good and evil, of hero and coward, none of it is quite true. The truth is that the greatest victory is to endure with grace and humor, to stay in the game, to achieve humility.
I know a young man with brain cancer. He's 16 years old. He isn't battling his cancer. He is enduring it with the most energy and creativity and patience he can muster. He says the first year he had cancer was awful because of the fear and vomiting and surgery and radiation and chemotherapy and utter exhaustion. But he says that first year was also wonderful because he learned to savor every moment of his days. He met amazing people he would never have met, and his family and friends rallied behind him with ferocious, relentless humor. He learned he was a deeper and stronger and more inventive and more patient soul than he had ever imagined.
He also learned about fear, he says, because he was terrified, and remains so, but he learned that he can sometimes channel his fear and turn it into the energy he needs to raise money for cancer research. Since being diagnosed with cancer, he has helped raise nearly $100,000, which is remarkable.
I met a tiny, frail nun once, in Australia, while walking along a harbor, and we got to talking. She said no one defeats cancer; cancer is a dance partner you don't want and don't like, but you have to dance, and either you die or the cancer fades back into the darkness at the other end of the ballroom. I never forgot what she said, and think she is right, and the words we use about cancers and wars matter more than we know.
Maybe if we celebrate grace under duress rather than the illusion of total victory we will be less surprised and more prepared when illness and evil lurch into our lives, as they always will; and maybe we will be a braver and better people if we know we cannot obliterate such things, but only wield oceans of humor and patience and creativity against them.
We have an untold supply of those extraordinary weapons, don't you think?
Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine at the University of Portland, and the author most recently of "Thirsty for the Joy: Australian & American Voices."
by Brian Doyle, Guest opinion
Saturday January 17, 2009, 7:17 AM
Martial words reflect illusory mind-set against illness
Finally, this morning, enough -- I read one too many journalistic references to someone's "beating" cancer, as if cancer was an opponent to be defeated, an enemy to be conquered, a battle in which courage often wins the day.
It is a lie. Cancer is to be endured, that's all. The best you can hope for is to fend it off, like a savage dog, but cancer isn't defeated, it only retreats, is held at bay, retires, bides its time, changes form, regroups. It may well be that the boy who survives an early cancer lives a long and lovely life, without ever enduring that species of illness again, but the snarl of it never leaves his heart, and you'll never hear that boy say he defeated the dark force in his bones.
Use real words. Real words matter. False words are lies. Lies sooner or later are crimes against the body or the soul. I know men, women and children who have cancer, had cancer, died from cancer, lived after their cancer retreated, and not one of them ever used military or sporting metaphors that I remember.
All of them spoke of endurance, survival, the mad insistence of hope, the irrepressibility of grace, the love and affection and laughter and holy hands of their families and friends and churches and clans and tribes. All of them were utterly lacking in any sort of cockiness or arrogance; all of them developed a worn, ashen look born of pain and patience; and all of them spoke not of winning but of waiting.
A great and awful lesson is contained there, it seems to me, something that speaks powerfully of human character and possibility. For all that we speak, as a culture and a people, of victory and defeat, of good and evil, of hero and coward, none of it is quite true. The truth is that the greatest victory is to endure with grace and humor, to stay in the game, to achieve humility.
I know a young man with brain cancer. He's 16 years old. He isn't battling his cancer. He is enduring it with the most energy and creativity and patience he can muster. He says the first year he had cancer was awful because of the fear and vomiting and surgery and radiation and chemotherapy and utter exhaustion. But he says that first year was also wonderful because he learned to savor every moment of his days. He met amazing people he would never have met, and his family and friends rallied behind him with ferocious, relentless humor. He learned he was a deeper and stronger and more inventive and more patient soul than he had ever imagined.
He also learned about fear, he says, because he was terrified, and remains so, but he learned that he can sometimes channel his fear and turn it into the energy he needs to raise money for cancer research. Since being diagnosed with cancer, he has helped raise nearly $100,000, which is remarkable.
I met a tiny, frail nun once, in Australia, while walking along a harbor, and we got to talking. She said no one defeats cancer; cancer is a dance partner you don't want and don't like, but you have to dance, and either you die or the cancer fades back into the darkness at the other end of the ballroom. I never forgot what she said, and think she is right, and the words we use about cancers and wars matter more than we know.
Maybe if we celebrate grace under duress rather than the illusion of total victory we will be less surprised and more prepared when illness and evil lurch into our lives, as they always will; and maybe we will be a braver and better people if we know we cannot obliterate such things, but only wield oceans of humor and patience and creativity against them.
We have an untold supply of those extraordinary weapons, don't you think?
Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine at the University of Portland, and the author most recently of "Thirsty for the Joy: Australian & American Voices."
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