Dates to remember

Someone asked me the other day what the date was that I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I recall that the date of the first mammogram was on Saturday, September 27, 2008. The following Monday they called me to schedule a second mammogram because they found spots and/or lumps that did not look good. I don't recall what date I went back for the follow-up. As for the actual day I was "diagnosed", I would have to say I do not recall because it seemed like everyone I was talking to at the time, all the doctors anyways, refused to use the "C" word and I was actually the first person to utter the dreaded word itself.

The lumpectomy was performed December 4th(?) and the reduction was performed January 9. Other then that, the rest of the dates are kinda fuzzy. So, I guess the question of when I was diagnosed sparked my follow-up question of, "What is my 'anniversary' date? Do I celebrate being cancer-free? and if so, what date? Having awoken from my year long coma, so to speak, I don't know that I would want to remember most of it, but I feel a small urging in the pit of my tummy to celebrate something. I want to celebrate getting my life back and having much smaller boobs. Do I pick a date for that, and if so, what date do I pick?

Plan Q!

My latest plan was to move today. I was supposed to have someone else signing a lease and moving in May 1 so I figured I would move in the middle of the week and be done before the madness of May 1 moving day began. May 1 marks the beginning of the summer move cycle so I figured I would beat them to the punch. My landlord has just informed me that he does NOT have a tenant for May 1, may have something to do with the fact he is not showing the place and tells everyone it is not available until June 1, so I am back to the drawing board.

Haven't spoken to Dean yet, did speak to Tony, and my latest plan is to move Sat. May 8. This way, if I am working, I won't have to take any more time off from work to pack and move AND it gives me more time to actually sort through the crap and discard/donate/re-gift!

For the first move in YEARS, I am completely into the downsizing thing. I have thrown out bags and bags of trash, donated box after box of stuff, and sent another 2 large boxes of documents to an industrial shred place. I am not finished yet, but boy have I made headway!

PIGEONS!

If there is anything that truly disturbs Miss Kitty, it is pigeons. She is skittish around bugs and only things she is "hunting" the squirrels on the window ledge, they have come to mostly ignore her when they are eating peanuts, but pigeons seem to bring her into full blown panic mode. When she sees the pigeons down on the street, she makes weird little chirping noises to indicate she is seeing what is truly a freakishly large flying creature. It is unnaturally large to be a common bird and the big ones are almost as big as Miss Kitty.

Imagine the horror the other day when one landed on the same window ledge that houses the peanuts for the occasional squirrel! The other evening I walked into the kitchen to find her on the window ledge overlooking the back porch. The back porch is an enclosed space that currently resembles a garbage dump...LOL...as I am in the process of packing and that is where I am keeping extra boxes, etc. Miss Kitty has never shown any interest in sitting on the ledge that overlooks the back porch, so her chirping got my attention. Sure enough, there was a pigeon on the back porch! Apparently it flew in the hole in the plastic sheets covering the top half of the porch. So, after a few minutes of laughing, arm flapping and giggling, I was able to open the small window and steer the bird out. Poor Miss Kitty spent most of the evening perched on the ledge making sure there was not another attack.

The next morning, I found her back on the sill, chirping excitedly. Abandoning my coffee, I KNOW! right?!, I headed out back and sure enough, there was another of those flying rats sitting on top of the freezer like it was a perfectly natural place to be. Again, arm flapping, laughing, repeat and rinse. No sooner had I closed the door then Miss Kitty was back to chirping again. Really? I told her the bird was gone but she insisted it was back. Sure enough, yet another bird had flown in. I swear this one waited in the wings. So, three birds later, the porch was clear of the things and I forgot both my coffee and meds before running out the door to catch a ride to work.

So, I found some duct tape and my nephew was kind enough to climb up and tape the hole shut. Poor Miss Kitty cannot handle that much excitement! She is aware that we are likely moving again, but I think she is just pretending otherwise and living in a state of blissful denial. Like mother, like cat.

Tired of the dance.

It was with great trepidation that I headed West to Loyola yesterday for my mammogram. I don't know why, but this one seemed to bother me. It wasn't that I really thought they would find something, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that I really just didn't want to go.

When I arrived late, I spent very little time waiting before they called me in for my mammogram. I have to tell you, it was less painful and difficult when I had huge tits to smash. Now that I have small ones, it seems they are hell bent on pulling them off my chest to clutch them in the vice grip of death. The huge scar on the right side, from the port being ripped out, hurts like hell when they pull and stretch and squeeze. They went ahead and did both sides because I still had the fluid pocket in the right breast.

For all of my underlying bad vibe feelings, I was not prepared for the afternoon from hell. Yet again, it started with the tech coming back to inform me the doctor wanted more views and different shots to examine "spots" (trust me, their word, not mine) that the radiologist had seen on the first series. The took a new set of completely different angle shots and these hurt like an SOB. I was very relieved when she informed me that I was finished and could wait again. It was now 3:30 (my original appointment having been for 1:20) and any hopes of meeting Amy at the VA to discuss something she wanted me to read for her, were dashed.

After what felt like an eternity, I was told that I would have to have an ultrasound of the right breast because the doctor was concerned with the lump. It was like deja vu all over again! Fortunately, Amy had decided to come over and meet me at Loyola and I took great comfort in knowing she was in the waiting room for me. I just lay on the table with a small sense of dread and a clear knowledge that I was not up to another long drawn battle.

Fortunately, everything is fine. The lump is getting smaller, and while it is taking longer then hoped to dissipate, they do think it will eventually go away. I will live another day to fight the fight. I just hate this particular dance.

Dude, we need to chat!

The other day I wanted to borrow a friend's car, so, the trade-off is that I give her a ride to/from work. After dropping her off, I planned to visit Trader Joe's to pick up liquor boxes (perfect for books sillies!) and decided that the one at North and Sheffield(ish) was perfect. There is an uber tiny, sorta grungy strip mall at the corner that houses a Starbucks and an NYC Bagel Co., so I figured lox and bagels and coffee OH MY! The tiny strip mall has only about 12 parking spaces and the queen of parking was able to score the only space available. Even engrossed in my own thoughts of bagels and cream cheese, I could not help but notice the well dressed gentleman, in a car about 3 cars down, with a young assistant type standing near by. The well dressed gentleman seemed to be digging around in his files for something. The young assistant type just stood there as this man continued to dig through files, a briefcase and then the back seat of the car. When the hunt continued to the trunk, I was beginning to chuckle.

The entire time I was watching this show, I kept thinking I know this guy from somewhere. At first I thought he might be a lawyer that I had seen in court or who had a television ad. I just kept thinking that I know this guy from somewhere. In the course of the minute or so I had been watching the floor show, I finally noticed the guy with the earpiece. He was one of those well dressed, dark suit, wearing an ear piece mike, kinda guys. All I could think was that this attorney, or whoever he was, had to be either "somebody" or he was paranoid about getting shot. The security guy just kept watching this whole thing with a look on his face that said, "Really?"

If it wasn't suck a dinky, borderline crappy, middle of the street almost kinda place, I don't think I would have noticed. I kept thinking this guy could at least have pulled into the lot at Whole Foods down the street a bit and did this in a back corner. I finally tired of the show and went for my lox and bagels and coffee OH MY.

After an uber fabulous breakfast, I left Starbucks. On my way back to the car I passed two gentlemen, also rather nicely turned out, sitting outside the bagel place chuckling about the idiot and the floor show. I could not help but ask them who the guy was. I knew I knew the guy but could not place him.

It was at that moment that both gentlemen informed me that the well dressed gentleman who was digging through his files in his car like an idiot was our own Governor Pat Quinn.

It is gone.

I thought I would be a lot sadder to see my wonderful wrought iron bed exit my apartment yesterday, but alas, I was wrong. I was actually glad to see it go. I realized that I had spent wayyyyy too much time in it last year and it was surprisingly therapeutic to see it walk out the door. The only trepidation I experienced was as to attempting to sleep on a twin sized bed. I was not uncomfortable, just afraid I might roll off. Poor Miss Kitty, every time I rolled over, she did roll off the bed. I felt her sleeping at my feet for a while but she was gone, as usual, when I woke up. She knows something is up, and she is NOT happy about it.

The couch is supposed to leave this morning and I must say I will be glad to see it go.

OMG the shower!

I have an uber fabulous friend who comes to town for business now and then and who gets a hotel room in downtown Chicago. If I am working, it makes my commute 5 minutes via a $5 cab ride instead of 60 minutes for $2.25. You do the math! Recently, my uber fabulous friend booked a room for herself and her husband and child for the weekend at the new Trump hotel in Chicago. I have no use for the man myself, and he totally pissed in the political pot in Chicago by screwing people looking to invest in condos, but when offered an opportunity to stay at his hotel for free, I jumped at the chance. Because the husband had to leave a night early, I was asked to join my friend for an evening at the Trump hotel.

The lobby is sparse and it seems the only colors in the whole joint are shades of brown and white/cream with a bit of green thrown in every great once in a while for contrast. Everything is leather, glass or chrome. Not my style, but it looks simple, and some would say elegant. The rooms were nicer then your average hotel room and there was not a snack you could think of missing from the minibar area. If you don't mind paying $12 for 4 peanuts and $25 for bottled water with bling on it, you will be in heaven. They also give you bottles of just plain old Trump water gratis.

The one thing that horrified and literally pained me was the comfort level of the pull-out couch. Because I have traveled with teen-aged children and large groups,I have spent my fare share of time on fold-out couches. My own such beast, while uncomfy to sit on, is very comfy to sleep on. The fold-out couch at the Trump hotel was hands down the most uncomfortable thing I have ever slept on, including the bunk beds at camp. I guess they figure if you won't pay for a second room, there is absolutely no reason to even pretend they want you to be comfortable.

My friend had informed me that in the 2 days she had already been in the hotel, she had managed to take 3 showers. Upon entering her hotel room, I was immediately in lust with the bathroom. Marble, sunken tub, rain forest type shower head, TV in the mirror, subdued lighting that dimmed, thick towels, bathrobes, slippers, you get the idea. My friend went on to inform me that she had not bothered to take a shower in the room because she had opted to go to the spa instead.

OMG the spa! If you stay at the hotel, you are welcome to use the spa facilities gratis to include the pool, sauna, steam room, gym, and THE SHOWER EXPERIENCE. We splashed in the pool for just a few minutes and then headed to the spa. I started with the sauna while my friend had, "the shower experience". She had oohed and ahhed and gushed about the shower, but I was not quite convinced that I would need to become Trump rich to get one of these things installed in my house. And then, I entered. I entered into a world of pure shower joy! It was better then sex, more relaxing then a massage and more enjoyable then a hot fudge sunday! The shower heads from the ceiling give you the rain forest shower effect and the jets in the wall deliver a pulsing shower massage type experience that would make you deny your own mother! The lights change colors, the temperature rises and falls to heat and then cool you and the pulsing shower just makes you feel better.

Following what had to be about 15 minutes of pure guilt driven pleasure, I was able to make my own salt scrub/lotion/oil blend to take into the regular shower where I was able to give myself a good scrub and shampoo my hair. As I sat in my fluffy robe and comfy slippers, I thought to myself, "Self, you gotta get you one of these and you will never have to look for anything else again to be happy."

Now the work begins

The roomie is gone, as are all my crackers, cookies and once a year gingerbread pop-tarts. Now the real work begins as I start to sort, downsize, donate and discard what feels like a ton of crap. It is with great joy and trepidation that I begin my move to the farther North side. I am very much looking forward to new roommates and a steady contribution to the rent. Becky, with the exception of her cats (that was Miss Kitty chiming in), was the best roommate I had. She understood the concept of replacing the little things like toilet paper. I was more then willing to supply the paper towels, as some folks call that a luxury item, but come on, we are ALL using the toilet paper...I would hope.

If anyone can think of anything they might need, and have seen in my apartment, for heaven's sakes, just ask. I have craft stuff (Mariah?), I have a fax/copy/scanner, a wire shelving unit, a blender/food processor (Dean AND Tony have really good ones), you name it...so come on down and get it while you can!