Goodbye, my friend

Yesterday, God welcomed my friend and fellow cancer fighter, Gail Ann Cavallaro, home. She fought hard, but cancer is evil and beat even a strong combatant like Gail. Thankfully, she is no longer in any pain as she sits with the angels tonight. God Bless her family.

 

And now for something completely different.

I think the title says it all! I wrote this piece a year or so ago about Easter. Even as I write this, my girls are in the kitchen rolling out sugar cookie dough to make Easter cookies. I'm guessing dying eggs will be Saturday. 


EASTER "TALES"

Easter Sunday is next week, reminding me of the many Easters I’ve spent dying eggs with the kids. I’d spend hours getting ready for the event; boiling eggs, gathering cups and preparing the dye. But the most time consuming of all was covering the kitchen table with newspaper in the event that a cup of dye was spilt.

Oh, who am I kidding; there was never a question of whether or not a cup would spill. It was just a matter of time.

At first, I just covered the kitchen table, but after the second or third cup of dye hit the floor, it, too, got covered. Inevitably, as soon as the kids enter the kitchen, the newspaper that I just spent twenty minutes covering all surfaces within a ten foot radius, gets strewn everywhere but where I had put it.

I started using tape to keep the newspaper down. I was especially diligent about taping it to the floor after I got doused with a cup of dye while crawling on the floor, replacing scattered newspaper. I now own an outfit solely for dying eggs.

Now that my kids are teens, I thought for sure they would tire of coloring eggs. They have not. And I’m sorry to report that even though they’re older, there is still going to be a dumped cup of dye somewhere. My days of papering the kitchen are not behind me as I had hoped.

However, they’ve begun to get more elaborate in their egg decorating. Through the last few years, I’ve been instructed to purchase kits that are supposed tie-dye them, make them look like marble or cover them with glitter. They also enjoy writing in wax pen on the eggs; sometimes, they’d put appropriate things like crosses or their names. However, I’ve stumbled upon more than one egg that has written across it things like, “I would have like to have seen Paris before I dyed. Signed, the Egg.”

They also expect treat filled baskets; not for any sentimental purpose but because they’re kids. Getting free candy and gifts is not something they give up easily. You’d have better luck getting an elephant into a Smart car, handing it the keys and asking it to pick up the Easter Bunny.

As you’d imagine, however, the trinkets that find their way into the baskets have gotten smaller, while the price tag has gotten larger. Most of them require batteries as well and now cost almost as much as a Smart car.

When they were little, I bought huge baskets because they had to hold large stuffed animals or character dolls. I, whoops, the Easter Bunny, stuffed a singing Ariel (from Disney’s “Little Mermaid”), large Little Foot dinosaurs, and Cookie Monsters inside the baskets. There was also Power Ranger action figures, a roaring “Simba” from “Lion King”, and a giant blue genie from “Aladdin” in the baskets at one time or another. I purchased them happily; until the day Elyse discovered a large purple dinosaur.

My three year nightmare began and his name was Barney.

While the overacting was perfect for children, parents were banging our heads against the wall. And the songs; oh the songs. Matt and I took to substituting our own words for the theme song, “I Love You, You Love Me”; they’re not suitable to write in this column.

That being said, I’ll admit that the show is full of qualities such as teaching children to share, how to settle an argument using words and other such teaching principles that parents everywhere want their children to learn. Sometimes parents have to bite the bullet and take one for the team.

So, I bought a singing purple dinosaur and let Easter Bunny put him in Elyse’s basket. They make a new stuffed Barney every year and the big Bunny kept jamming the oversized beast into her basket. Thankfully, she grew out of it but the timing couldn’t have been worse. It was the day after we bought her an expensive interactive Barney doll that she held once, then tossed into her toy box.

Of course, there was always an accompanying video to go with each character. And the kids wanted them every bit as much as they wanted the doll.

I don’t know who loved the videos more, though – the kids or me. I loved to watch as the kids would clutch their beloved character while they watched the movie for the hundredth time. I believe that seeing their little faces reflect the emotion on the screen, or listen as they sang along to every song is a gift that parents everywhere treasure. In fact, whenever a new Disney movie came out, we’d take the kids. But I never saw it; I was too busy watching my babies’ faces in the dark instead. And I don’t know whose heart broke more when the sad part came; them as they cried, or me as I held their hand. Those are memories that you cherish for the rest of your life; even the tears.

This year, as we decorate eggs, I’m going to remember when they were little, and keep those memories close to my heart forever. But I’m also going to tuck the new memories made with my teens into my mental scrapbook, and keep them as treasured as the memories we made years ago. This time, too, will pass quickly.

Besides, how many more times in my life will I run across Easter eggs that say, “Eat beef, not chicken!” or “$500 reward for E. Bunny – see Chicken Little.”

Oh, boy - just shoot me now

I have good news & some disconcerting news to share. I’m going to start with the good news.

I met with my original booby daddy, Dr. Morrissey last week, March 13^th. It was awesome to see him. In case you don’t remember, here’s his picture:

(cute, isn't he??)

I love Dr. Morrissey; he’s always made me feel like he wasn’t rushing me. He answered all my (often times dumb) questions without making me feel like I was mentally deficient. I’m never nervous when he’s operating on me – you can’t buy that. So if you’re looking for the best plastic surgeon in the entire Lehigh Valley, heck, the entire state, consider seeing Dr. Morrissey. Here’s his information:

Dr. W. Michael Morrissey, Jr.

1213 Main Street

Hellertown, PA 18055

610.838.7638

He has offices in Quakertown & Bethlehem, too.

It’s not just me that loves the living daylights out of Dr. Morrissey! I met a woman this past week who handed her 6 week old baby over to him for surgery (he needed quite a few). She, too, couldn’t imagine a better, more competent doctor who inspired confidence. I mean, really, you can’t get a more glowing recommendation than a mom who’ll hand her baby over to a doctor several times with no reservations.

Did I mention that Dr. Morrissey is the best?  

After the original mastectomy, he put tissue expanders in. Then MRSA reared its ugly head, & I was in & out of surgery 4 more times. The final time was an extended stay in the hospital where they kept the wound open, packed and cleaned it twice a day. That was horrible, but it kicked the MRSA out, so there’s that.

Unfortunately, the MRSA ate the tissue expander, and when the ordeal was finally over (a few months), Dr. Morrissey felt that I should see a micro surgeon for reconstruction, which I did. Dr. Neal Topham of Fox Chase Cancer Center did a good job of making my bionic (they built it better), baby (brand spanking new), Barbie (no nipple) boob – my bionic baby Barbie boob! It’s time, however, to end its status as Barbie, because we’re fixin’ to slap a nipple on that bad boy & call it a day. I have surgery scheduled for the second week in May – or do I?

Here’s where the crappy part comes in.

I went to see a gynecologist on Tuesday, Dr. Patriarco. Turns out, since I had breast cancer before age 50, my chances of getting ovarian cancer are about 87%. Throw in the fact that there’s either uterine or ovarian cancer in my family, & I hit the genetics jackpot. I either may already have it, or I’ll more certainly get it. Guess who wants to yank those bad boys out? I also want them to take out the rest of the plumbing. Like I’ve said a lot recently – they’re about as useful as screen doors on a submarine.

The doctor took my blood & has sent it to a genetics lab out west. They’ll determine if I carry something called a BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene. There’s a lot to explain about it, but since I want to get this up, I’ll just post the link here. Suffice it to say, I’m hoping I don’t carry the gene, but more for my girls than for me.

I’ll keep you posted as surgeries get scheduled. Gotta say, though, I’m getting really tired of my reproductive system trying to kill me!

 

Moving on . . . .

As you may know, I've written my humor column that ran in over 20 cities for AOL's Patch over 2 years. In fact, if you scroll down, you can read my indictment of the pink ribbon marketing bonanza which was a departure from my normal silliness. I tapped into my old job as a journalist to expose the massive amounts of money being made by simply slapping a pink ribbon on some product or another. The biggest problem is that miniscule amounts of money were donated to any charity or went to help cancer patients. Most of the money was pure profit. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of making money. But I detest when it’s done based on tapping into humanity’s innate desire to help and it’s even more despicable when it’s made from the suffering of others.

I haven’t decided whether I despise the corporations who slap that pink ribbon on their product and paint the town pink for “Pinktober” or the charities that claim to be helping women like me (cough, Komen, cough, cough). One of the worst charities, in my opinion, is Komen, who barely spent 17% of their earnings from the pink ribbon marketing cash cow to anything remotely helpful. Worse, their signature fragrance had ingredients directly linked to causing breast cancer. Helpful little bunch, wouldn’t you say? But, like I said, you can scroll down to read the series.

I’ve changed direction, and am finally writing my book. It’s tentatively called, “My Heels are Alive (and are trying to kill me)”. I’m almost done – woo hoo! So that’s another reason I haven’t been writing for y’all with any regularity.

I’d LOVE it if you’d connect with me on Facebook. If you “like” my fan page (just click on the name & it'll take you to FB & my page), Tamara Kells, The Brunette Lucy, you’ll be able to interact with me much easier than here on the blog. Although I thank you for all your emails! I can’t tell you how much I looked forward to hearing from you. There were days when I was sick, others that I was depressed, and I’d see that one of you sent me a letter. It was the most awesome thing – it’s hard to put it into words. Thank you seems trite. Still, it’s the only way to express my feelings about you.

Thank you.

If you feel inclined, come over & visit me on Facebook! I look forward to reading whatever you have to say.

Pink Ribbon = Big Profits

The first part of my expose about the big money being made in the name of breast cancer and the pink ribbon is up. You can read it here:

Pink Ribbon = Big Profits

The second part is this Sunday, where I take on Komen, Planned Parenthood, "Save the Boobies" campaigns and Pinktober. Here's a sneak peak at the photo the paper is letting me use:

Last installment on Patch!

The final installment of my long battle with breast cancer is up. Here's one of the cities that carry it:

My Battle with Breast Cancer: Radiation & Reconstruction

And like I've promised, this weekend, I'm going to tackle what me & other breast cancer survivors have taken to calling the "pinkwashing" of America. I hope you'll read that.

If you've been reading me for any length of time, you know that I'm never political or controversial. That being said, we're gearing up to elect a president in November. If you have decent insurance, please check with them about what will happen if Obamacare goes into effect as it's written. I know that my doctors have told me that they're worried about whether or not they'll be able to continue to take medicare patients - that's just one of the many concerns. The claim that you'll still have your doctor is just that - a claim. PLEASE, check with your doctor, your hospital, your insurance company to be sure that you'll still be seeing them if Obamacare is implemented in its entirety. 

When Obama's website told me to "vote with my lady parts", I'm taking him up on that. My biggest lady part is my brain; which I plan to use to vote. Him out.
 

Chemo story is live - preview of last in the series.

The latest in my story about my breast cancer journey is up! You can read it here:

My Battle with Breast Cancer; Chemotherapy Sucks!


Next week, I'll go into radiation & reconstruction. I still have another procedure until I'm all done. Also, I'm going to have Dr. Morrissey take a look at the girls - I still think they're not matched very well. So, I'll be doing that at the beginning the the year (insurance reasons - ugh).


The last installment for Patch is going to be a little dicey. I've asked, and was given the okay, to write about what I & many of my breast cancer sisters hate - the "Pinkwashing of America". In October, companies turn everything pink - even the most ridiculous things turn pink. Did you know a pornographer has sent out mass emails to folks, promising to donate to some cancer charity for every page view he gets? I mean, really? Have these people no shame?

What most of the wonderful people who purchase the often times pricier name brand goods because they're helping the cause don't know is that the amount that goes to charity is paltry - at best. All companies have a pre-determined amount of money that they'll donate - period. So, after they've met the almost always minuscule amount, the rest of the month, the money good people have paid goes nowhere but the pockets of the companies and their share holders.

PLEASE DON'T GET ME WRONG! I do not begrudge companies making a profit!! In fact, I'm very pro-capitalism. What I DO object to is making that money by pretending to be donating big sums of money to a charity & using the suffering of others to profit. And profit they do. 

I also have a problem with October being breast cancer month. What about all the other equally deadly cancers out there? I know that some have their months, but nothing like breast cancer. I'm well aware that I benefited from having such a "trendy" cancer; but what about others?

I was having insurance problems, and while speaking to the billing department at St. Luke's, I "met" a lovely woman, Diane, who went out of her way to help. During our conversation, I found out that she had beaten colon cancer. I couldn't help but think, wow; what about her? I mean, seriously, colon cancer is every bit as deadly, but it's also not quite so . . is the word "attractive"? At the very least, it wasn't trendy. I wondered how she felt every October, when the world is practically celebrating breast cancer.

There's so much more, & what I can't fit into my limited space for the paper, I'll write here. I just want people to be aware that buying something pink doesn't guarantee that much money is being donated. And these days, many of us are struggling to make ends meet. If you're in the grocery store, looking at soup, and you normally buy generic - please buy it!! Don't let that pink can fool you or make you feel guilty for purchasing the generic version. I love it that so many of you are so kind hearted and generous; and sadly, advertisers are counting on it.

And now, for something completely different!

In the event you didn't see the video my kids made for me that was embedded in the Patch article, here's that link:

The Hat Song
  
If you noticed, there's a Peeta standee in the video; because my kids were crazy about that movie, The Hunger Games. So, I found this photo; which I love! Thankfully, they have good senses of humour! Here it is: 

The Hungry, Hungry Hippo Games!

 May the paddle be ever in your favour!