Ship's Blog: October, 2007

If you were to meet me during cancer treatment, you might be misled about my approach to cancer. Given the flamboyant wigs I wore, the way I'd cheer up other patients and entertain the medical staff, you might think I was one of those folks who believed the great cancer myth of positive thinking. You know, the one that says,"You have to keep a positive attitude if you want to survive this disease. Attitude is everything."

I'm here to tell you attitude is not everything. It is so not. I'm just naturally perky, with cancer or without. And this has nothing to do with my status of being cancer free.

But the Positive Thinking Brigade would like to congratulate me, nonetheless. They like to point out that I am a sterling example of how with love, gratitude, and giggles, one can overcome even the dark specter of cancer and go on to live the good life. I am an inspiration.

Oh, please. I'm not that stupid. If having a positive attitude led to overcoming cancer, a whole bunch of lovely, upbeat people would not have died from the disease. Mean, bitter people would not have lived. Yet they have!  Read more »

When I had my frozen shoulder, and then shortly after that when I went through cancer treatment, medical professionals seemed to always be asking me about my level of pain. They'd say, "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

This question always made me crazy because it sent me into a tailspin. I'd never say ten because, well, it could always get worse, right? I mean, someone could shoot me in the gut at close range and I could be bleeding to death slowly while trying to tuck my insides in, and that would probably hurt worse, right?

Just as the meaning of "ten" eluded me, I never got the "one" right, either. Kathy was with me when a nurse asked me to rate my pain during an allergic reaction and I weakly murmured, "I don't know...six?" Kathy heard to the reedy sound in my voice, looked at the way my hands were clenched on the arms of the chair and my eyebrows knit together while the sweat broke out on my brow, and she rolled her eyes. Once the nurse was gone, she talked to me about my rating and pointed out that "one" didn't mean "I'm hurting but I think I can cover it up okay." One meant I'm okie-dokie. And thinking I might scream the next moment? That was pretty high up there. Maybe even higher than six.  Read more »

Lately, I've been considering what to do about the various books in my "to read" stack that have, unfortunately, gone stale. Through no fault of their own, these books have gone unread past their freshness date and now I just can't seem to get myself interested in reading them.

I've never heard anyone talk about the problem of stale books, so I assume this is a personal problem. It usually starts when I buy the book. I'll be getting books on a particularly topic when I see an unrelated book that looks like something right up my alley. There it is, right in front of me, maybe even on sale, and so I get it. I think, this will be cool to read. How clever that I found this!

Only...right now I'm reading the other books, the ones I set out to get, and so the "future read" book goes to the bottom of the pile. Caught up in other endeavors, it stays in that stack - the book stack that is a permanent fixture by my bed - for weeks. Months, even. Until one day I pick it up and think, I should read this.

I think we can all agree that "should" is one heck of a joy-killer. I should clean my shower grout. I should file the stack of paperwork on my desk. And now, I should read this book. The laws of space and matter seems to warp around the word "should" and now the book is three times its original weight. I can tell when I pick it up: it feels heavier. I put it back down.  Read more »

My head hurts today, so I'm just going to share a few silly moments from my weekend:

She Starts Me Up On Purpose

Kathy and I were out driving this weekend when she told me about a big accident that happened in Southern California. Only, she said, "I think it was on the 5 or the 101 - I'm pretty sure it was the 5."

My eyes were on the road, so I couldn't see her smirk. She was cranking me up on purpose.

You see, here in Northern California, we don't feel compelled to add superfluous articles in front of highway nouns. It's not "the 101"; it's 101! I don't take "the 680 to the 24 to the 80" to get to Berkeley. I take "680 to 24 to 80." Or, if I'm feeling extra fancy, I take Interstate-680!

But in Southern California - or maybe just Los Angeles - they do this weird thing, and I just don't get it. I don't know anyone outside of L.A. who prefaces a freeway-name with "the." It just sounds stupid! The only thing possibly MORE stupid than that is how crazy it makes me to hear it. Kathy sure got a chuckle watching my eyebrows move around while I tried not to react.

She calmed me down by pointing out that the news reports on the accident (at least, the national ones) deleted any stray articles of speech. The world was not spiraling into the Abyss; I could relax.  Read more »

Lately, it seems that I visit the vet at least once a week, sometimes more. Both my girls have chronic illnesses that require vet visits, special diets, and medicines. The whole process can be a bit stressful for them, so on a recent vet trip, I bought a special kitty toy. It seemed innocent enough, maybe something they'd enjoy.

I did not know that soon this toy would control my life.

To be fair, the moment I picked it up, I knew it was a Cool Thing. The MetPet Bird-on-a-Wire Parakeet is just what it sounds like: a parakeet (in this case, made from stuffed fabric) at the end of a long wire. Simple, yet brilliant, because while it resembles many wand-operated cat toys, by exchanging a steel wire for a long string, they elevate it to a new level. Kind of literally, come to think of it, because leveraging the arc that the wire creates, you can easily make the bird not just fly around the room, but up toward the ceiling, too - without getting off the couch. With those darn wand-string toys, I end up having to hop around the entire room to make play enticing. (Why yes, I do have a co-dependent relationship with my cats. Am I not supposed to?)  Read more »

I changed Doctors today and I have to be honest: I'm not adjusting well. No, not at all. I thought it would be no big deal, but it IS a big deal and I'm in a funk.

Maybe you know how this is - you meet your Doctor, feel awkward at first, but over time, he grows on you. You come to understand his way of working and even develop a fondness for his quirks. Maybe it's the way he stays optimistic in the face of uncertainty, his laser-like decision making, or even just the way he says "fanTAStic." I don't know, but you feel comfortable. He makes you smile.

And then one day, without warning, he's gone, and there's a new Doctor in his place. One whom you're supposed to accept and embrace. Only, he's not your Doctor. No, not by any stretch of the term. He's too young to be trustworthy, is more flippant than sarcastic, and even though he's got looks on his side, well, you liked the ears that stuck out a little before. You can't help but feel shaken.

When Kathy called me on the way home tonight, I confessed I'd already changed Doctors, sooner than we expected. She could tell by my voice that I wasn't doing well. "You know, this happens to other people," she counseled. "It's like this for most of us - you're never ready to let go of your first Doctor. And some of us had the same Doctor for years."  Read more »

As loyal readers know, I periodically review the searches that lead people to my site. Originally, I started doing this for site-optimization purposes, but lately, it's become more about entertainment value. Yeah, you think you're just looking for answers on line, but there is a small chance that you are also cracking me up.

Here's the best of my latest crop, by category.

Category 1: If only I could respond real-time

Good side telling the truth to patient - Uhhhh, you needed to look for a "good side" in this endeavor? 'Because it's the right thing to do' is not sufficient? I think I've had you for my doctor once upon a time.

No gowns at my gyno office - Holy cow. I suggest you grab your things and sidle out the back door. Run, don't walk.

Do mice turn into rats? - No, but I should warn you that housecats can turn into pumas.

My aunt made me wear girls slacks - Er, were you just compelled to make a confession to Google, or are you looking for camaraderie?

Another name for gaurage sale - Oh, I don't know. Maybe...GARAGE sale?

Importance of thinking - It pains me that people are searching for an answer.

Nutritional value deepfried packaged noodles - You mean, the answer "absolutely none" wasn't implied by the question?  Read more »

For the past few days my left pectoral muscle has been super-sore. While it could be caused by that 200-lb, one-armed bench press session I did on Friday (ha!), I can't help but wonder if it's more about last week's mammogram. It's the only imitation I've done of a contortionist of late...at least, that I can recall.

I showed up at the diagnostic imaging department early, before they had re-opened after lunch. While I was the first one in and finished my questionnaire at breakneck speed (do I really need to repeat my breast history to them every six months? Don't they keep any records?) I wasn't called until a half hour after my appointment time. That meant that I got to wait in the antechamber for another twenty minutes, clutching a too-big gown around me.  Read more »