Breast Cancer, 10 Years After

Ten years ago today I had my mastectomy. I was terrified. Not so much of losing a breast, but of waking up to hear that it had spread throughout my body, and that I didn't have long to live.

Although I'd had some warning signs for two years, mine was an unusual type of breast cancer, known as Paget's Disease of the Nipple. It manifests as what looks like a rash or some skin problem on the nipple, and therefore is often ignored until it has spread. That was what I feared. The survival rate was lower than some other breast cancers, because women who had it tended to go to dermatologists, who weren't always sharp enough to take a biopsy, but kept issuing creams while the cancer grew and entrenched itself.

Also, because it looks like a rash or a callous, it doesn't raise the same level of alarm that an actual lump would raise in a woman's mind. It's pretty rare, showing up in only 2 out of 100 cases of breast cancer.

Fortunately, the dermatologist I went to recognized that it could be more than a rash, so he took a biopsy.

After the mastectomy on December 1, 1997, I felt great about my survival chances until December 22nd when I had a bone scan that revealed a suspicious mass in my left femur. On Christmas Eve (Merry Christmas to you, doc!) my oncologist told me it looked as if I had metastatic cancer in the femur, and if so it was a question of how long it would take me to die. Not pretty news by any means, and I lived in terror for the next seven weeks until in February I had an orthopedic biopsy.

I never learned the name of the mass in my femur, but it wasn't cancer and it wasn't going to kill me. That was all the information I needed.

At the time I became very spiritual and prayed a lot, read lots of spiritual books. Since then I've become a little more apathetic about my spiritual life again. Everyday life and its concerns takes over. But some things have changed forever. There's no such thing as a routine doctor appointment anymore, and any little symptom I have gets magnified into possible cancer in my mind.

But, I'm also grateful for the ten years I've lived cancer free, and I hope to remain cancer-free for the rest of my life. I got the chance to see Jason grow up and graduate high school. Now that he's in a transitional period, I need to see him heading in a useful direction. And I still haven't given up the hope of dancing (stiffly) to classic rock at my grandchildren's weddings.

So onward I go, with ten years survival now, and high hopes for future survival. The odds were with me but they were sure scary for a while there. I've been blessed, and I need to remember that when the petty things get me down.

Happy Anniversary to me!!

Implicit Association Test

Want to find out how prejudiced your unconscious is? Try the Implicit Association Test. This test asks you to quickly associate attributes with various concepts (age, race, gender roles, etc.) and rates your unconscious prejudices by measuring how long it takes you to associate a "good" word or a "bad" word with a certain category.

So, for instance, if you find it easier to associate positive attributes with "young people" as opposed to "old people," then you have a preference for youth over age.

It's an interesting concept except that I wonder if it's really true. The way the test works is as follows: first you identify faces or names with the concept. For instance in the young vs. old test you had to press the e or the i keys to identify faces as "young" or "old." Then you identified "good" vs. "bad" attributes. Next you identified young vs. old faces again only they were now on the opposite side of the keyboard. Then they pair "good" attributes with "young" and "bad" with "old." Finally they switch again and "bad" attributes are paired with "young" while "good" attributes are paired with "old." If it takes you significantly longer to identify good attributes with old as opposed to identifying them with youth, then you're biased against old people.

So, what if you just get used to hitting the keys the way you were first trained? What if it is harder to switch gears not because you are prejudiced against the group in question but because you already learned to associate the attributes with your right versus your left hand? I wonder. In any case the results were interesting but not too surprising (and no, I'm not telling what they were). Try it for yourself. It's an interesting diversion!

My Life with George

I suppose My Life With George by Judith Summers jumped off the library shelf at me because I had a cat named George from 1984 to 1997. My Life With George is the story of Ms. Summers' relationship with her Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, or "What I Learned About Joy from One Neurotic (and Very Expensive) Dog."

In George the Cat's case, he was neurotic enough (almost starved himself to death while Bruce and I were on our honeymoon and we left him with one of my co-workers, who proved to be too neurotic herself to cope with a frightened and unsettled cat). But I didn't allow him to become nearly expensive as Ms. Summers' dog.

My Life With George isn't just a cute dog story. Ms. Summers goes into depth about the role George played in her family. She decided to buy George on a bit of a whim, after her husband and her father died within days of each other, and her son was begging for a dog. The dog did in fact bring laughter and joy back into the bereaved household, and was a big factor in helping the two of them heal.

But on the other hand, George himself was a handful, spoiled, willful and overly dependent. Ms. Summers admits she didn't have the spine to make George behave, and she gave in over and over again to his whining and sulks. But from her description of George's behavior, just about anyone would probably have a hard time getting this pooch to do as he was told. Her encounters with animal psychologists were pretty absurd, with them ascribing deep hidden meanings to George's behavior (piddling on the carpet was supposedly a bid for attention).

So, as she described, George had a profound impact on Ms. Summers, on her son Joshua (who, coincidentally, is Jason's age), and also on her various relationships with men after her husband's death. The first fellow was driven away mostly by Joshua's opposition, but George's behavioral eccentricities didn't help either. The second was a dog lover and very tolerant, adored by George and Joshua, but Ms. Summers herself could not muster any passion for him. And the third adored her and it was mutual..but only when they were in a romantic bubble of unreality away from her daily life with Joshua and George. To some extent he had a point about her overindulgence of the dog, but he was also intolerant and resentful of a relationship that existed before he came along. The breakup was inevitable.

(I remember seeing a great bumper sticker at a cat show years ago: Men come and go, but the cat stays).

And yet, even with all the ups and downs and the distressing effect on her love life, she continues to love her naughty little doggie, and at the end of the book, is off to indulge his whims yet again. It is, in all, a sweet story about the love between humans and their animal companions. Ms. Summers should definitely put a bumper sticker on her car: "I'm owned by a dog." Anyone who is an animal lover will appreciate this touching story.

Ms. Summers has written several other books including The Empress of Pleasure: The Life and Loves of Teresa Cornelys, Queen of Masquerades and Casanova's Lover.

American Jewish Historical Society

Today Bruce and I visited the American Jewish Historical Society, a mostly-free museum an avenue block off Union Square. This is a museum created as a partnership between 5 organizations, and each one contributes exhibits to the museum. I'd never heard of it before but stumbled on it while looking for free things to do in New York City. Their website is at www.ajhs.org

There was an excellent exhibit on the historic synagogues of Turkey, with beautiful photos of synagogues, some of them centuries old. It was fascinating to read about the Ottoman Empire in which Jews and Muslims coexisted peacefully and Jews were invited to help shape the Ottoman Empire. Too bad that mutual respect can't seem to exist today, although it does in Turkey (unless the fundamentalist Muslims are able to take over there too).

Besides the beautiful photos, the researchers kept a travel diary that was fascinating to read. One excerpt described a rabbi who travels 22 hours each way every weekend in order to bring Shabbas services to a town that has only 4 or 5 remaining Jews. Now that's dedication!

Another exhibit was on Jewish Chaplains at War: Unsung Heros of the "Greatest Generation," 1941-1945. This described the extraordinary efforts put forth by the Jewish chaplains during World War II, how they comforted the wounded, buried the dead, and sustained the faith of all troops without regard to race, ethnicity or religion. They also made efforts to help the Holocaust survivors rebuild their lives. They worked closely with Christian chaplains for the first time and brought the spirit of ecumenicism back to civilian life at the war's end.

Several chaplains died while on duty. One was on a ship that was torpedoed. He and 3 other chaplains of other faiths gave their life preservers to the escaping sailors, and then held hands and prayed while the ship sank. Their sacrifice was honored on a postage stamp.

The Yeshiva University Museum had an exhibit on Dreyfus but we preferred to stay in the free part of the museum, and, that exhibit room didn't look all that big. (Bruce wandered into it by mistake while looking for me). I was in another side room looking at an exhibit built around the mesivta, the separation between men and women in the Orthodox synagogues. I'd always resented that separation so it was interesting to see how the artists interpreted it, with cutouts of women, the mesivta on one side and a depiction of the woman's character on the other.

There was a photo exhibit of Jewish writers. Many of them I've read, but many others I have not. Now if I see their names I will remember and perhaps read their books.

This was a delightful and serendipitous find. If you're visiting NYC check it out!

Bearded Lady (Reprise)

Friday I went and got my hair colored and cut for the first time in months. I take my time about it and I let the skunk stripe of gray hair grow out too far along my part. It was finally time to do something about it so I did.

The hairdresser kept pushing me to get my face waxed. I kept saying no. She even offered to do it for free the first time. I began to think of a drug peddler, offering school kids that first joint or pill or snort for free, knowing they would get hooked and come back for more. Finally I said to her, "What part of NO don't you understand? It's only two letters!"

Thank God for assertiveness training. I read those books 20 years ago and they still stand up today.

She says I'll change my mind someday and get a waxing done, but she's wrong. I won't. I had waxing done and not only did it hurt like hell, the hairs on my upper lip and chin came right back the minute I stopped. The same thing happened with electrolysis, which burns and stings, no matter how much local anesthetic they rub on your face. It's supposed to kill the root so that the hair doesn't grow back again. Oh, really? Well, I found that more and more hair grew back, so either it wasn't true or else the tiny electric shocks stimulated more growth in the nearby hair follicles.

In any case I am almost 53 and I am through torturing myself to make those hairs go away. If I find out that laser treatments are painless and permanent I might consider it but otherwise I will just shave off the long hairs and let it go at that. I have to say again that I admire Jennifer Miller for taking what could have been a devastating blow to most women, a full beard, and turning it into a positive and really the focal point of her life since she organized a circus.

I've got a fantasy. I'll stroll into my hairdresser's salon arm in arm with Jennifer Miller and we'll both flip her the bird. No waxing for me!!

Blogs of Note

Yesterday I checked out some of the Blogs of Note catalogued here on Blogger. One was about global volunteerism and seems to draw on the contributions of a number of people who have travelled to foreign countries in order to volunteer their time, energy and skills. It was inspiring to read about various experiences (and travel tips -- such as pedestrians do not have the right of way in China!) and how they changed the volunteers' lives. Here's the link: http://www.globalvolunteers.org/blog/

The other is on the ethics of blogging, and deals with issues such as blogging anonymously, what kinds of rules should apply to blogging, blogging in oppressive regimes, etc. Here's the link to this blog: http://ethicalbloggerproject.blogspot.com/

I recommend both highly. Finally, we have a published comment from a gentleman who claims to have written a book on the meaning of life. Please read his comment and do check out his blog, who knows, he may be on to something. Granted, in Douglas Adam's book, Life, the Universe, and Everything, a massive computer that had been working on the ultimate question for millions of years finally arrived at its conclusion: the answer to life, the universe, and everything was 42! It would probably take humanity and all the other sentient life forms in all the galaxies another billion years or so to work out what that answer meant. But whatever his answer, his blog is sure to raise some questions worth pondering.

Ethical Babies

Today I read this article, http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071121/ap_on_re_us/infant_judging&printer=1;_ylt=AvFkCKf78WNd0gse_j_PuORH2ocA about babies and their ability to distinguish between "naughty and nice" playmates. Apparently when they were presented with a video of a train with googly eyes (sort of like Thomas the Tank Engine, I suppose) trying to climb a hill, they were able to judge the behavior of a second train which either helped or hindered the first one. When they were offered toys that resembled the "nice" or "naughty" train, they preferred the nice train that exhibited kindness and helpfulness. They rejected the train that hindered the "little engine that could."

They also preferred the "good" train to neutral ones and preferred the neutral trains to the "bad" train.

These were babies as young as six months, and some scientists were already saying that 3 month olds were exhibiting similar behaviors. These kids can't even talk yet but they seem to have an innate sense of right and wrong and they want to be in good company, even if it just means they want to play with a "playmate" who will be nice to them.

So instead of original sin, and being born wild and unruly unless they are civilized, it seems that babies have an internal ethical standard that guides them from almost the beginning. It's our experiences later in life that cause us to make the wrong choices and opt for bad company, at least according to this experiment.

This also puts a much bigger responsibility on parents and caregivers of infants, because it suggests that babies who are capable of distinguishing right from wrong behavior are not going to want to be in the company of adults who misbehave and treat others badly -- even if they are kind to the baby. Little eyes are indeed watching us!

Brooklyn Humanist Community is Cookin'!

This past weekend we had not one program but two! We gathered at Maureen's on Saturday evening and discussed the Big Questions. Some of us wanted to know the meaning of life. Others were concerned with relationships, and still others with world events and how we can affect them.

Together we wove a lovely tapestry of ideas and enjoyed the warmth and spiritual uplift of these Reflection conversations, led by Dr. Kurt Johnson. It reminds me of what we used to have in the other organization that we pulled away from, before all the power grabbing and character assassination began. But this is a circle of friends and we have known some of them for 20 years, and I'm just so glad that we are able to continue to meet with them and do constructive things, hold discussions, maybe branch out into some kind of ethical action, and most important, keep our friendships with them intact and growing.

The next day we had a program at the Brooklyn Public Library Kensington branch. The theme was Giving. Adriana spoke about Bill Clinton's book, Giving and about the things some of the wealthiest people are doing to make a better world. Tony read The Giving Tree, which brought him to tears. It is a sweet story of a completely unselfish tree that gives everything she has to a little boy who seems to always be asking for something. I actually think it is a model of too much giving but perhaps the tree is a parent. In that case its excessive giving makes some sense, though even parents have to eventually draw the line and get a child to move out, get a job, and do things for himself.

I discussed Rambam's Ladder, Maimonides' 8 step hierarchy of giving, climbing up toward righteousness. He placed giving begrudgingly on the lowest step of the ladder, and giving a poor person the wherewithal to pull himself out of poverty (for instance helping him find a job) as the highest form of charity. Just below the highest form of "teaching a man to fish" is completely anonymous giving. I discussed Maimonides' ideas from the viewpoint of a modern fundraiser and showed where his ideas fit in and where they clash with what we know about the psychology of giving. My audience was entertained by the "Vampires and Charity" story, where a scientist observed that vampire bats sometimes drink more blood than they need and then will give it away to other bats, but only when asked, and mostly only to those bats who have given them blood in the past. (Tony interjected that this is how the Red Cross got started, which cracked everyone up).

At the end I showed them the photo of the young man from Boston who was panhandling near Faneuil Hall last summer. I asked whether his cause was worthy and whether anyone would donate to him. In fact, because he was up front about his wishes and wasn't trying to fool anyone, I gave him a dollar and took his picture.

We have a planning meeting on Dec. 2nd, another program on Dec. 16th, a Reflection on the 22nd, and a book club discussion on January 6th. We also have a Winter Party coming up on Jan. 12th. So for a tiny group of about 22 people with only 10-12 active members, we are really going places and doing things. I hope it will grow but in the meantime I am happy that such a small group is able to accomplish so much.

Re-Filling the Nest

Just as we were getting used to the empty nest and beginning to appreciate the freedom, he's back. The veterinary technology program was too much, too quickly, and Jason was overwhelmed by it. He was also saddened and revolted by having to look at cut up "pets" like dogs and cats in the anatomy and physiology lab.

So we travelled up to Delhi on Sunday, Nov. 11th, and helped Jason pack up his things. On Monday morning we met him early, and he got the remaining signatures he needed to withdraw from the college fairly quickly. Because we ran back to the hotel and checked out before 11 AM, we wound up getting a credit for the second night.

It was tough getting the suitcases down to the bus stop but fortunately we only had to bring them down from the campus. Bruce's heel spur was acting up and he couldn't walk that far comfortably. So it was a good thing that it was all downhill and not that far from the dorm to the bus stop in town.

Pretty much as soon as we got home, we introduced Jason to The Door. http://www.door.org The Door is a youth organization that offers assistance with health, legal issues, counseling, career and educational help, for young people from 12 to 21. Although they say they are intended for low income youth, no one is turned away. Jason signed up to become a member and got the phone numbers for the career and education specialists.

Because the college ID is also a key, he had to surrender it at Delhi when he completed the withdrawal process. So he also had to go right to the Department of Motor Vehicles and apply for a nondriver photo ID in order to be able to work.

Right now he plans to look for work and may or may not attend as a part time student in the Spring. Or, he might wait until fall to attend college again. We'll see how this goes. In the meantime, we have our full nest again. It feels natural. I missed him more than I knew. But on the other hand I hope he will venture out again in a year or two and it will work out better for him next time. I felt sorry for him, after he had such great social success at college, that he had to leave and probably lose most of the new friends he made. But he will make friends again elsewhere, I am sure.

"Salem's Lot"

I picked up "Salem's Lot" at Duane Reade a few days ago. Apparently their sale on Halloween theme spooky movies did not move all the films, and I got the DVD for $5.

I read the novel by Stephen King years ago, probably at least 15 years back. I remember enjoying the shivers up and down my spine but did not remember much of the plot except that it involved a town being taken over by vampires.

Basically, that's what it was about. The main character, Ben, arrives in town to write a book about the weird happenings at the Marsten house. But he finds that a mysterious and creepy antiques dealer, Mr. Straker (James Mason) has rented the place. Strange and creepy things begin happening. Characters die off right and left and come back as vampires, eager to convert others to their evil cause.

This movie really scared me. I had clammy hands while watching it. It wasn't the makeup on the evil Vampire Master that was so frightening. It was the anticipation and the built up tension in each scene, so that by the time something supernatural happened I was ready to jump out of my skin. It takes an excellent movie to be that scary, and I was duly impressed with the skillful acting and direction.

Mason was particularly creepy as the dapper and urbane gentleman who aided and abetted the master Vampire in his aim to convert the townspeople into vampires. One wonders why Mason himself was not turned into a vampire and what reward he got from assisting the Master. One also wonders how Mason, who was around 70 at the time, could have been strong enough to lift a younger man and carry him down a hallway to impale him on a knife protruding from the wall.

But these little discrepancies aside, "Salem's Lot" was a marvelously spooky movie and I appreciated it a great deal though I am not so sure I will ever watch it again.

"East Side, West Side"

A few days ago I watched "East Side, West Side," with James Mason, Barbara Stanwyck and Ava Gardner. It's not the best movie in the world but I appreciated it nonetheless. Barbara Stanwyck played a kindhearted society wife to James Mason's character, a dapper and distinguished young man who unfortunately had a great weakness where fast women were concerned.

When the story begins Mason and Stanwyck seem to have weathered a bad episode in their marriage precipitated by his affair with another woman. They are all lovey dovey and she has forgiven him. But the "other woman," played by Ava Gardner, comes back to New York and begins her seduction of Mason all over again. Gardner plays an out and out slut who is completely confident of her power over him.

Mason tries to resist but eventually he succumbs to her charms and the affair begins over again. But this time he has a rival, and this time so does the Gardner character.

Gardner and Stanwyck face off and Gardner brags that she will call Mason and he will come running to her. Just after this confrontation, the Gardner character is murdered. Stanwyck and Mason are both suspects until the real killer is caught by means of a tiny piece of physical evidence left behind at the scene.

Spoiler: Don't read if you don't want to know the ending




Mason hopes to be able to pick up the pieces but Stanwyck has had quite enough of him, and she delivers a "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," type speech before walking out on him.

While others have criticized this movie in a number of ways, and it is of course rather obvious, I enjoyed it. It was a forties movie but contained some dialogue that could have been written in 2007. There's an interesting speech by Nancy Davis (who later became Nancy Reagan) in which she talks about the myth that women can't be good friends to each other. Very modern thinking, and a speech I didn't expect in a forties movie. Perhaps not that much has changed after all, in the past 60 or so years.

Disobedience by Naomi Alderman

Disobedience by Naomi Alderman was an excellent read. It concerns the three main characters, Ronit, Esti and Dovid, all born and raised as Orthodox Jews in the London neighborhood of Hendon. Ronit has broken away, moved to New York and become nonobservant. Long ago, when they were schoolgirls, she had a lesbian affair with Esti. Esti is now married to Dovid, Ronit's cousin.

Ronit has never intended to go back but she returns on the occasion of her father's death. Her father was a much respected and loved Rabbi, a great leader in the Orthodox community there. Ronit is not in heavy grief over her father's death since they have been estranged for at least six years, but she intends to bring back the candlesticks that her mother (who has been deceased since Ronit was a girl) used to light the Shabbos candles, as a memory of her mother.

She stays with Esti and Dovid, and though Ronit has moved on from that long-ago affair, Esti has carried a torch for her all these years. The torch erupts into a flame. Ronit brings disapproval on herself by declaring herself a lesbian at a Shabbos dinner, and then when Esti makes a pass at her, some of the nosy and self righteous neighbor women see them and misinterpret it as Ronit making an unwanted pass at Esti. Naturally they blab it around the neighborhood even though gossip is considered a huge sin.

Also as this is simmering and word is spreading, the richest man in the area and the most arrogant offers Ronit a substantial bribe to leave London and not attend her father's memorial (hesped). How she deals with this and what she does on her return to New York shows a change in her from the woman who felt compelled to open her mouth and declare herself a lesbian before people she knew would be horrified, and yet she retains her identity and sense of self. However, the return home has changed her and mellowed her a bit in her attitude toward the religion she turned her back on (though, she is never going to move back to Hendon or become part of that insular and ingrown community again).

Esti also changes, from someone who is too silent to a woman who defies the tradition of women's silence to speak out at the hesped and declare her desires for women. Dovid actually stands with her and backs her up. So, there is growth and change even within this rigid community where people have tried so hard to hold back the tides and the influence of the outside, secular world.

While I didn't grow up Orthodox we did attend an Orthodox synagogue and I had some brushes with the narrow-mindedness of that community as a teenager. I remember the position of women being clearly defined when we were told we could not come behind a certain partition and see the Torah opened. The rabbinical student who told us this made an offhand jest about women's lib and it was clear to me that he was telling us that women's lib meant nothing: we were still not fit to be around an open Torah. I also remember going to a youth group meeting at the synagogue with my friend Janet. A few of the boys in the group took a high and mighty attitude with us (probably learned from their fathers) and told Janet she could not stay because she showed up in jeans and that was disrespectful. I, on the other hand, could stay because my pants were "nice."

Of course, in the Orthodox community today, even "nice" woolen pants would not pass muster on a female and I would have been ordered out also. But at the time I stated that if Janet's attire wasn't good enough for them then I was not good enough for them either and the two of us walked out. A few months later, we went to the outdoor Purim celebration, and these same boys had partaken of a large portion of wine (as is considered proper at Purim). They were sloshed enough not to recognize us and they invited us to come to the youth group. I told them, "We came last fall and you made her leave because she was wearing jeans."

The drunken ringleader answered, "Oh, that's okay, you girls can come in anything you want. In fact you can come naked if you feel like it."

Naturally, with an invitation like that, we never showed up.

So to an extent at least I understand Ronit's desire to flee the Hendon community and live her life her own way. She asks, at the end, if it is possible for there to be passion in such a community and in such a way of life. That is indeed the crucial question. I've suggested this book to the book club and I recommend it highly.