Life in the Slow Lane

Life in the Slow Lane

Wednesday, August 31, 2005


Too pooped to blog today. Sorry!

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

No Complaints

Feeling very good today. I am reaping the benefits of my cancer. I often joke that if I knew cancer could be so lucrative I would have caught it much earlier. I mentioned in my last post that I got me some gifties in the mail. Now that rocks huge. Today was a great food day. Since I am not getting out much my mom pops over with goodies quite often. Today was a bonus day. It got giant chocolate bars, icy cold watermelon and blueberry scones. That is right. HOMEMADE blueberry scones. These are so delicious they can coax me out of the queasiest of situations. I also ate me a huge pile of Iranian rice a la Mrs. S. Hmmmmm. And then an hour of Rockstar:INXS tonight, which is getting juicier and juicer as the group gets smaller. Life is really good right now.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Sweet Stuff

I am once again overwhelmed by the kindness of blog people. I received two surprises in the mail this week from two very special people.

On Friday I got a very lovely gift-wrapped CD of Garbage- Bleed Like Me from Precisiongirl who is from the UK (said with a British accent). Thanks so much, Fellow Fan. Your thoughtfulness is muchly appreciated. Precisiongirl just got married and had a fabulous honeymoon in NYC. You can see photos here and here about that. She looked gorgeous in her dress! Check out her site.

Then today I was surprised with a package from Bucky Four Eyes! She sent be a very cool do-rag from my wish list. She suggested that I kick some ass with that there rag and I will do my best. Thanks so much Bucky! You rock! Pics of me wearing it are coming shortly. I know most of you know Bucky (some better than others-wink wink!! We are talking assless-chaps here.) but absolutely check out her blog here.

Blove you both!

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Kemo Kitty's Second To Last Visit

It is that time again.
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This is my second to last chemo. It is weird to want to have the chemo to get it over with but also dread it at the same time. In any case it is almost over.

Everybody have a great weekend and I will post again when I am feeling better.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Why He Cannot Be Trusted

I found the most enormous spider in the tub the other day. It freaked me out, as I totally hate spiders and the air they breathe. That is a grandiose way of saying they scare the shit out of me. I thought about taking a photo but I decided the only thing worse than finding an enormous spider in the tub is finding one, running to get a camera and then finding it gone upon your return. I would not have been able to bathe in comfort after that. In fact even though I know I washed that little bastard down the drain I still am wary upon entering the shower.

I have a very chequered past with spiders. I grew up in a house that spawned brown hairy 8-legged beasties the size of cats. It was not uncommon to be sitting in the basement TV room and something catching your attention out of the corner of your eye. Something large and crawling towards you. My family got very used to me jumping up in the middle of some program to run shrieking from the room. My very dramatic reaction to spiders resulted in many family jokes at my expense.

One night I was walking up the stairs leading to the top floor bedrooms when it became necessary to throw myself up the remaining five steps due to a simply HUGE spider on the stairs. Most would simply walk past the spider by skipping that step when confronted with that situation. Not me. I was effectively trapped on that floor. Normally I would have called on a parent to save me from eminent peril but that night I was alone in the house. Fortunately I did have access to a bathroom but as time went on I became quite hungry and wanted a snack from the kitchen one floor below. I wracked my brains to how I could deal with my predicament. Do I climb out a window and then break into the basement? Do I jump over the spider by clearing a dozen steps in a super hero leap? What do I do? I suddenly got a brain wave. Bathroom cleaner. I would spray the spider with toilet foam killing it and rendering it harmless. My own chemical jihad.

Picture me standing on the top step with a can of Sani-foam, sweating profusely and giggling maniacally as I am apt to do under great stress. Picture me emptying a whole can of cleaner onto a single step. Then picture my parents coming home to find me and a 3-foot high mound of evil smelling foam barring the way to their room. Finally picture me grounded for a good long time. Once all the froth was shovelled off, the poor shrivelled up spider, greatly diminished in size since my last sighting, was no help to my cause.

Another time I found a spider on the same stairs in almost the exact circumstances except this time I was going down which meant I landed in a quivering pile of sweaty jelly on the middle floor. And this time my parents where home to spare me the ordeal of handling the situation myself. I ran to my father and told him that there was a HUGE spider on the stairs that he needed to get rid of. I must have seen something in his expression as I immediately regretted my decision wishing I had told my mom instead as she was much more sympathetic to my fears. My dad grabbed a handful of Kleenex and walked over the steps saying the whole time that I just had to get over my phobias and that spiders were wonderful creatures deserving praise as they killed off other undesirable bugs in the house. But as you all know, when one is almost hyperventilating with terror the only thing one hears is, “Blah blah blah spider, blah blah blah spider blah.” My father, my protector, my role model reached with his Kleenex, picked up the spider and then proceeded to walk towards me. With the spider. Yes, I said WITH THE FUCKING SPIDER!!! in his possession. I did what any self-respecting arachnophobe would do. I jumped onto the couch and crawled behind my mother screaming bloody murder, completely trampling her as she was trying to peacefully read. My mother swears I was emitting such a high-pitched sound she almost blacked out. And my father, my protector, the man who can do no wrong in a little girl’s eyes, stood over me and shook the Kleenex out over my head thereby releasing the spider into my aura causing my soul to melt. I then came close to blacking out myself. I am not kidding. Once my life stopped flashing before my eyes and I quit swallowing my tongue I realised that there was no spider. The Kleenex was empty. The evil man had left it on the stairs.

Obviously my father, my protector, the man who hangs the moon, is Satan. I paid him back for this with my teenage years.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Up Spam!

I don’t know what is up with all the comment spam on Blogger lately but I am pretty sick of it already. I did a little browsing on the Blogger site to check out the ‘flag’ nonsense they are pushing and found out that they are offering a feature to discourage comment spam. Now when you leave a comment on my site you will be asked to type in a word they display. I hope this extra step won’t discourage you from coming by and commenting. If you want to enable this handy-dandy little feature for yourself just go to your setting page and it is available under the comments tab. I will be more than happy typing in that extra word on all your blogs to avoid all this STUPID spam.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Like A Big Happy Family

While I have neighbours within my own house, as a household we have neighbours in the house next door to us. It is a very funky looking house with a well-tended yard and a purple colour scheme. It happens to be a boarding house owned and run by an Eastern European gentlemen I will call Boris. I have no idea what his real name is but Boris will do. Boris has a very motley bunch of tenants, one of which hit my car and then tried to swindle me out of a lot of money a couple years ago. I received a series of bizarre phone calls and threatening letters from this guy after he smashed my car and then tried to avoid paying for it. Fortunately a hawk-eyed man in the building across the street saw it all and provided me the necessary information to get the cops involved and my car fixed. However this story is not about that particular freak. It is about Boris.

Boris hates all of us who live in our house for the simple fact that we live here. In reality the feud is really between Boris and The Reign of Terry, our house caretaker. I am uncertain what the original problem was but they loathe each other with a ferocity I can only say amuses me greatly. However all of us must suffer. Boris “punishes” us by stealing our garbage cans, or just the lids from our cans. He plays loud polka music at us and puts his garbage in our recycling bin. I am not exactly sure what our crimes are as a household but I know anybody who is unfortunate to be in the front yard gets yelled at if anybody parks their car in front of his driveway. He never uses his driveway and often the person who has parked there is not related to any of us in any way but we always must pay for that particular action. Other than the occasional parking infraction the only thing I can think of we are guilty of is a poorly tended lawn and a laurel bush that used to over hang his property. Recently it was a friend of the downstairs tenant who momentarily parked his car in front of Boris’s driveway that resulted in Boris stealing our recycling box. I guess somebody had to pay. The funniest thing about Boris is that he doesn’t seem to care about being caught at his thievery. He regularly steals any new garbage can of ours even with our address painted on the side. He proudly and blatantly carries our garbage cans filled with his trash to the curb only for The Reign of Terry to dump his garbage back into his yard in order to reclaim the bin. While Boris is fairly passive aggressive he is not subtle.

My in house next-door neighbour has tried to be friendly to Boris in order to change his perception of all of us. I don’t even bother. I know he is a strange old man who needs us to make his day worthwhile. Boris needs a reason to get up in the morning and if sitting on his front porch glaring at us coming and going with our daily routines is what it takes, dude, feel free. Maybe part of my glee over the whole situation is seeing The Reign of Terry get all worked up over a few milk jugs in a recycling box or a dirty look over the fence. These sort of events give a quaintness to the neighbourhood that would otherwise be busy, dirty and impersonal. Boris and his vendetta make our neighbourhood homier.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

The Funkster
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Kindness Above And Beyond The Call Of Duty

I actually got off my ass the other day and walked down the two flights of stairs to get my mail. I was sure glad I did as I found yet another little nugget of love from Jessica Rabbit. She recently sent me a CD of my boyfriend Henry Rollins’ spoken word performances from my wish list. She wasn’t finished and even had the fashion wellbeing of my cat on her mind. Yoshi is now the proud wearer of a very funkadelic kitty collar. Check her OUT! That mama is very Zen.

So I thank Jess again for her thoughtfulness and send her lots of the blove. Mwa mwa!

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

What Comments?

I am feeling very picked on by blog comments today. I did my usual morning blog crawl and left comments on every single blog I normally visit. For some reason my comments have disappeared from several of them. Is this some sort of cosmic blip in the universe? Is this a message? Whatever it is if I didn’t comment on your blog today just know that I actually did stop by and your comment is in the cosmos. Maybe your comment is travelling from my fingertips to God’s ear. Is it too late to ask for chocolate?

Things are getting better and I am slowly perking up. Now that my chemos are every 2 weeks apart opposed to 3 weeks I am finding I am more and more tired. Pretty soon it will be too much of an effort to haul my ass to the washroom and I will float away in a river of my own urine. Apparently chemo is making me rather overdramatic too.

Really looking forward to Rockstar: INXS tonight. I suspect Jessica will be voted off as, dammit, nobody likes her. How may phoenix impressions can this chick pull off?

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Rockstar: INASOCK

Um. Anybody else out there think that Marty on Rockstar: INXS looks like Animal from The Muppets. Something about the teeth.

Rockstar: INSANE

OK. Does anybody else out there think that JD Fortune on Rockstar: INXS is a sociopath? What a weasel.

Monday, August 15, 2005


Look at me all upright and typing. Today was a good day and I ate some pasta and felt all right about it. Then I watched a bad DVD and had a nap. All is right in my world right now. The cat won’t leave me alone either. This wouldn’t be so bad but it happens to be hot out and her hot furry self is making me kinda sticky.

First of all I have to thank JessicaRabbit from the bottom of my heart as she saw that cabana boys were sadly lacking during chemo and sent me a Henry Rollins’ Spoken Word CD to compensate. Thanks so much, JR! That was just the nicest surprise to get today! I just bought my spoken word tickets for his Nov 14th show here in town so I am totally in the mood.

Secondly I mentioned a while ago that I had to get some further testing done as they thought I might have cancer in my left breast as well. I just got the news today and everything it all clear. I have to get a follow-up MRI in January but so far so good. That is great news and I needed some of that right about now. Yee haw!

More good news is that my dear friend Pablum is in town and we will be getting together as soon as I feel up to it. I love his summer visits. Probably not as much beach time this trip for the two of us but some serious gossiping will be had.

Thanks to you all again for checking in with me and leaving sweet comments to tie me over until I was all human again. You are the best.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

It's Kemo Kitty Again

Chemo Day today.
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I am off to chemo today. After this I only have two more to go. The countdown is on! So I will be back as soon as I can. Everybody have a great weekend!

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Looking Pretty Good For An Old Guy

Daddy O and his cheesecake.
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Happy Birthday Daddy O

Today was my dad’s birthday. He is 75 years old. I gave him a huge bottle of scotch as his gift. By the age of 75 I figure you pretty much have everything you need. Now is the time for luxuries. My mother made a fabulous meal as usual complete with cheesecake for dessert. I am so full I can hardly move.

My dad who is seventy-five is still working full time. We often tell him to slow down a bit but I think he would be bored without work. He likes to work. You just can’t argue with that.

So Happy Birthday Dad, you hard working scotch drinker, you.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Check It Out

New music is up on the radio blog!

DJ Kranki

I spent several hours yesterday night burning CD compilations to send to Lbo’s lovely husband, Big D, who is deployed to Afghanistan right now. I had a long chat with Lbo about what I could send to the poor guy to make his life a little bit better. Fortunately they are treated really well over there and are not wanting for much. Except for home that is. They are wanting for home.

I happen to love creating CD compilations for friends and for myself but I do tend to get into a bit of a rut. I find that a lot of the same songs get put on my CDs over time. I guess we all have our favourites and getting fixes of those tunes is good. But I don’t want to repeat myself too much.

So I ask you all a favour. Please list your top 5 (or more if you want!) best songs you would like to hear on a compilation CD. Big D has VERY diverse tastes and likes to listen to all sorts of stuff. Any era and genre. So put your musical thinking caps on and comment your hearts out. I would really appreciate the help in creating some fabulous ‘tune festivals’ for this guy who is working 16-18 hour days. The good news is that he can play music on his laptop while working.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Not sure how old but damned cute!
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Age 2
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Age 4
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Looking Back

I thought I’d post some baby photos of me today, as I am feeling quite nostalgic. I was remembering simpler times in the olden days.

I had an upbringing unlike most people. I was raised in an apartment building right in the city centre. We lived on the 19th floor in one of four penthouses. The elementary school was across the street and the beach was only two blocks away. The building had a pool as well and my best friends lived on the 18th and 9th floors respectively. We had an amazing corner store just kitty corner to the building that had the most wonderful array of penny candy known to mankind. I came by my sweet tooth naturally. We were allowed to walk there ourselves and spend our allowances from a very early age, as it was totally safe. At night the prostitutes would come out and I then needed an escort home from my weekly Brownie meeting.

I would say I had a really great upbringing. We were never bored and there were lots of kids also living in apartments in the area. I had to share a room with my younger brother but didn’t know that this was so terrible as all my friends had to share their rooms with annoying siblings.

With the ocean and the pool so close by I was a good swimmer and loved the water. The park was really close as well with its zoo, petting zoo and aquarium. Are you getting my drift here? We were very engaged kids with always something to do. No, we did not have a backyard swing set but we had the school playground with the jungle bars right out front.

Halloween used to kick ass as we went from building lobby to building lobby where we had our pick from the piles of candy provided by every single tenant heaped on tables. We are talking about full sized candy bars, people! No stairs and measly handouts for us. It was a Land O’ Plenty and we reaped the benefits. Those were the days…

As I got older I was very active at the local community centre that offered great kids’ programs. I joined a pottery class and got quite good on the wheel for a little kid. I did gymnastics and trampoline as well. There was also a skating rink in the centre, which was a favourite wintertime activity. They even had Pre-teen Disco night and I knew all the moves for The Carwash and every dance from Saturday Night Fever. My mom would give me a dollar and that would buy me a donut from the cafeteria and unlimited McDonalds Orange Drink just off the dance floor. My friends and I would boogie the afternoon away. After our dance time was done the teens would come in and I remember being rather fascinated with what they were wearing. Ah! Clothes from the 70’s. I couldn’t wait to be 13 years old and dancing with the big kids.

When I was 10 we moved out of the neighbourhood to the suburbs as the problems with the local ho’s were getting out of hand. Also I was getting a little too old to be sharing a room with my pesky brother.

I remember my first day at the new school. I showed up with my little disco bag and French Cut corduroy pants. I think I had platform shoes. I know I had feathered hair! I looked like a freak amongst all the Holly Hobby print dresses and other frumpy threads. I was a city kid amongst the suburban crowd. I didn’t know how to play Kick The Can. I had never mowed a lawn. Never owned a dog or cat. Never had my own room. But I had been to the Art Gallery and could kick ass on a city bus. Needless to say I was a curiosity for a while.

My whole family lives in the city centre again and I actually live only a couple blocks from the old apartment building. We have all made it back to The Hood over the years. Things are very different now but the candy store is still there exactly as it was 30 years ago and even owned by the same people. The Safeway is in the same place but recently renovated. Kids don’t trick or treat here anymore. Or at least to my house anyway. I wish they would. They must go to the suburbs to do it. I bet the community centre does something for them. It is still a good neighbourhood to live in. It really feels like home to me.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Sunday Blues

I am just exhausted. My new downstairs neighbour had a party last night. He is actually an old neighbour as he used to live in the attic suite a year ago. We were all glad to hear that the previous downstairs neighbour was moving out. He was weird. First of all he would sit on the front porch and drink beers until he was drunk. Often he had friends with him. Let’s just say you really didn’t want to have to walk by them to get into your apartment as they would get really creepy. You know, sorta get too close and smarmy. The second thing he used to do was play music and video games at supersonic volume. The whole house used to vibrate. I know from the other four tenants that have lived in the downstairs suite during my own tenancy that it really takes some serious volume for noise to bleed through. In fact, it wasn’t until Creepy Guy moved in that I knew you could actually hear stuff from that suite.

So last night when it became obvious that there was to be a party downstairs I was not too worried. There have been plenty of parties down there over the years and I have never heard much. I have to admit I was a little hurt that I was not invited to the party. I would not have gone but it would have been nice to be invited. It has normally been a tradition here to invite all the fellow tenants to a party as they will have to hear it anyway with such close quarters and all. I have always invited all my neighbours to every get-together I have hosted. I would have been happy to have them but mostly it was just as a courtesy so they would feel ok about coming by if the noise went on too late. I always give them my phone number in case they need to call me. My next-door neighbour was at the party last night; I heard her voice. I know it probably didn’t occur to New Neighbour Who Is Also Old Neighbour to invite me, as he knows that I am sick right now. But still. It would even have been nice to be warned.

In any case last night’s party was a little out of the ordinary and I am a little pissed off about it. First of all I was sleeping away and at around midnight my door buzzer started beeping away like crazy. I ignored it as I thought that maybe somebody had made a mistake with apartments. Earlier on in the evening somebody had buzzed me looking for the party. I knew they would see soon enough where the party was. I had just dropped off to sleep again and my buzzer rang AGAIN! I got up that time and it became obvious that some assclown at this party had moved onto the front porch and was leaning against the intercom panel. Not cool but it happens. The only problem was that now I was up. And I couldn’t get back to sleep.

I have been living here for more than five years and over this time I have become very familiar with the noises that the house makes. I know the sound of the basement door banging shut. I know the sound of the bike lock as one of my neighbours locks up his bike when he gets home from work. I know the sound of the creaking floor when my next-door neighbour walks to her living room from her bedroom. I know the sound of the racoons that shit on my fire escape. Last night this noise started that I had never heard before. It was an intermittent banging noise from downstairs that made my picture frames rattle against the walls. I have no idea what this noise was except it went on until 4 am. That is right. I did not get back to sleep until after 4 am.

And it has started again this morning at 9:30. I still have no idea what this noise is. I can tell you this. I really wish it would stop.

So why didn’t I go downstairs and complain? Well, for a couple of reasons. First of all I am have to admit I am a little old to be living in this place. This house is more suited to a younger crowd. Most people my age are married with kids and a lucrative career and live in much cushier digs. I am single and make very little money. I can afford the rent. Barely. So I try to give my younger neighbours a bit of slack. I am already known as a bit of a crankypants round here with my “high standards’ and all. From a previous post you know I have a strict criteria I follow before I complain about noise. It either has to wake me up and/or keep me up at night. Or if the music is loud enough that I can sing along with the words I will complain. Or if it is loud enough that I have to up my own TV volume to compensate I know it is too loud. Last night’s banging does fall into the first category. But the fact is that I am so sick and tired of complaining about obvious shit. I don’t wear shoes on my hard wood floor and I try not to be heavy footed. I don’t crank my tunes and if I want to rock-out I use headphones. I don’t use my subwoofer as the vibrations carry too far. Normal bass is enough for me. I turn down my TV at 11 pm if I am going to stay up late. If I am doing home improvement projects I try to finish by 6 pm so I am not hammering through a dinner hour. I don’t talk loudly in the common hallways and keep the front door and my door from slamming shut behind me. These are very obvious things I do so I don’t intrude upon my neighbours’ peace and quiet but these are the same things I constantly have to tolerate from them. And I am so sick of it. The main reason I didn’t go downstairs last night is that I am sick of being the one to complain all the freaking time. I would love to move but I simply can’t afford it. I have a really good deal here. Well, obviously not that good of a deal.

I am soooooo tired.

**Update-Monday Aug 8th
My next door neighbour was NOT at this party after all. I seriously thought I heard her voice but I was mistaken. I don't feel so bad about my lack of invite now. It was silly to think that way as I am practically old enough to be this kid's mother. Who wants their mother at their party?

***another update-Downstairs Dude just bought brand spanking new speakers and a subwoofer. FUCK ME!

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Serious Yum

Since my cancer diagnosis a lot of friends and family have really stepped up to the plate to help me out. I can’t even begin to tell you all the sweet things that have been done for me over the last few months.

We have a family friend who was initially a client of my real estate agent dad. She and my dad hit it off and she trusts him to help her with her personal business. She is a lovely lady who is originally from Iran. When she found out about me the first thing she did is offer to make me her special rice every week.

Iranians have a very delicious way of making rice that causes it to have a browned and crunchy layer. Every week Mrs. S calls up my mother to ask if I would like rice. This is how it goes.

Mrs S.: Hello Mrs. H. How are you today?

(She still calls my parents Mr and Mrs. H even though they have asked her to use their first names for years. They, in turn, call her by her last name too. I find this very quaint.)

My Mom: Hello Mrs. S. I am fine thank you.

Mrs. S: Does her majesty (me) require rice this week?

Mom: Yes, Mrs. S. She would love some.

Mrs. S: All right. Pick it up at 5 o’clock. Good Bye!

And she hangs up. Mrs. S does not like idle chitchat on the phone.

So she makes me my favourite kind, which means there are lentils added to the rice. She thinks this is good for my blood.

I think what she does is cook a bunch of basmati rice and lentils along with saffron until the rice is tender. Then she adds butter, which collects at the bottom and browns the rice so it forms a crunchy layer. My mom shows up with a big Tupperware container and she tips the rice into it. It holds the shape of the pot and the crunchy layer is on top. It tastes incredible and if any of you can ever try Iranian style rice I totally recommend it. The crunchy bits are considered the best part and are often saved for the younger or older members of the family.

So Mrs. S has been making me rice, on average, 2-3 times a month for the last few months. I always can’t wait until my appetite returns after chemo so I can have this rice. And I am so unbelievably touched every time I get it.

Mrs. S is 86 years old.

Friday, August 05, 2005


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For the past couple of days I have been fighting a bladder infection (TMI?) and have been put on some antibiotics that are making me feel quite vile. I am not sure what is worse, the infection or the cure. So that is why I haven’t posted. Please forgive. In the meantime here is a pic of Yoshi because she is so cute. Still not uber cute as she hurled all over my bedroom today. Damned beast. Now that is really too much information.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005


It is a very sad day today in Blogville. Many of you already know through Susie’s or Sarah’s Wacky Loving Family’s site that SarahKaplan died yesterday. I am very sad. She reached out to me through my comment section with lots of positive encouragement and candy suggestions. When a lovely lady who just a couple weeks ago was boosting my moral in my fight with cancer looses her own battle, life seems that much more precious and fragile and strange. And unfair.

She was very positive about the future and it wasn’t enough. And sometimes it isn’t. There are so many things that have to fall into place to guarantee a win over this disease. And that isn’t fair either.

What comes to mind most is a recent email a parent of a friend sent to me who extolled the benefits of positive thinking in fighting cancer. She very mistakenly assumed that my homebody-ness was equal to negative thinking. She feels I should be doing Cancer Walk functions and attending loads of support groups. Obviously this works for her. I find such peace and happiness at home with a good book or with visits from my parents. What she suggests sounds foreign and stressful for me. My positive attitude manifests in a different way. Each person who faces cancer or any other life threatening illness just has to do their best. Some days are not a pretty as others. Some days you can barely get out of bed. There is no right way ‘do’ this thing

Sarah confronted her illness with light and humour and strength and love. Her relationships with her sisters and her partner were inspirational. I never met her and I only knew her through her blog and her comments but I won’t ever forget her, as she has become a part of my own fight. As have all of you who visit and comment on my site everyday.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Fuzzy Wuzzy

Feeling better.
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I have hesitated to put a photo of myself up since my chemo treatment. My bald head just made me look so sick and I didn’t want any record of that online. Honestly, it was even a little hard for me to look at my baldness in the mirror. For me, more than anything, the hair loss really represented my cancer to me. I didn’t want to dwell on it all too much. I even wore a hat or kerchief around the house when nobody was around. Honestly, it wasn’t a vanity thing but more of a symbol of my sickness kind of thing. I know this isn’t an issue with others so much and maybe something else about their symptoms and treatment was hard for them to take. Anyway, that what was hard for me.

The good news is that my hair has very suddenly and quickly started growing back. It still might fall out again as I have more chemo to go but for now I am quite the little Q-Tip. My hair seems a bit darker and is very soft right now. Almost like duck down. It might even be a little curly. It is still too short to know what it is going to look like in the future.

So here is a photo of me and my hair. It looks silvery on the sides but isn’t. It is just a bit thinner there and maybe a little shiny.

Monday, August 01, 2005


Ah ha! Feeling almost human again. If not eating a lot at least thinking about it. Spicy things are my main craving right now. Channa massala or pad thai. Won’t be trying that any time soon but maybe next week. It is nice to dream.

Tonight I am looking forward to Rockstar:INXS. I am really enjoying it and am quite the armchair rockstar myself every show. I am surprised at one or two people who have been asked to leave as well as amazed at some who have been asked to stay. That is what is so good about the show so far. That and Dave Navarro. Yummy.

When I was nineteen I worked at a Canadian clothing store that has a very innocuous name in North America but turns out to be a very rude word in Australia. We sold these leather letterman jackets with the company name blazoned across the back. Our boss had given us permission to give away a jacket to any rock star that would provide free tickets for all the staff in the store. This was really cool deal and while I never reaped any of the benefits at my short time working there I had heard some great stories.

One night I was working late and the mall was deserted. A guy walked in who looked vaguely familiar to me. He was looking around and I greeted him. He wouldn’t even look at me and didn’t answer. I was wracking my brain. Who was this guy? Why did he seem so familiar? Then it hit me. He was the keyboardist from INXS. You know, the short ugly one. But I wasn’t 100% sure. I conferred with my co-worker in the back and I was elected to be the one to approach him with a free jacket in exchange for tickets to that night’s concert.

So I did what any person would do. I calmly walked up to him and said, “Hi! Are you from INXS?” and do you know what happened. He ran. He literally ran out of the store. Full sprint down the mall into the hotel. I was so surprised I just burst out laughing. So did my co-worker. Dumb ass. If he had just stuck around he would have got himself a free leather jacket with a very rude word on the back.