The Secret Service really blew it at Tuesday night's White House state dinner.
By Thursday, we'd learned the names, Tareq and Michaele Salahi, who walked
past initial security checkpoints without invitations, to attend (allbeit partially),
one of the most distinguished events of the year.

How did THAT happen?

The last time I was in proximity to President Obama was November 9th, when he visited Walter Reed Hospital. And let's be honest, I wasn't anywhere near the man! If memory serves me correctly, the Secret Service had the entire hospital so tightly locked down, that my mastectomy was delayed nearly three hours. I guess the Secret Service thought that a single-breasted, partially sedated patient was of greater threat to the President, than an attractive blonde, wearing traditional Indian formal wear.

So how did this "Real Housewives of Washington" wannabe
get a photo opt with Obama?
I had enough trouble just getting my scheduled surgery during his visit!


Not only did they get to meet the President, but they were woopin' it up,
(not really, but try to catch the visual) with:
Vice President, Joe Biden;
Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel (whom they referred to "Ron" on FB);
D.C. Mayor, Adrian Fenty;
Katie Couric; and
Robin Roberts (a fellow survivor), among others.

The Secret Service might want to reassess their "threat" protocol. I'm not suggesting that the Salihis were or were not a threat to the President, the Prime Minister of India or anyone else attending the dinner. It just seems like lately, the Secret Service isn't any better at doing their job than I am.

...and maybe that's the Secret.

Black Friday

Definition:
the day after Thanksgiving, in which retailers make enough sales
to move from the "red" into the "black".
It's after 12:00 p.m., so I don't plan on participating.
Cancer makes you prioritize.
Hey! That's a benefit.

But for those of you who will be enjoying "the Magic of Macy's",
here's a preview of what you else can look forward to:

WAL-MART save money live better (Want to save money? Stay home)
SEARS life well spent (More like money spent)
LOWE'S let's build something together (Build?)
KOHL'S expect great things (Don't!)

Admittedly,
One retailer does pique my interest.
JCPenney Every Day Matters
It sure does!

Thanksgiving Doesn't Care about Cancer

Thanksgiving does not care about my breast cancer.

There was no moratorium on the holiday because of my diagnosis.
Americans did not stay out of the grocery stores,
forgo that visit to grandma's house, or miss their favorite football games.


I could have selfishly thought: what have I got to be thankful for?
No one would've blamed me after explaining how sick I'd been the night before,
or that I just didn't feel like celebrating this year.


INSTEAD
We kept our plans.
Jeff fried a turkey; I made the cranberry sauce.
We enjoyed a wonderful dinner with friends:
running out of beer (after stores were closed);
watching the dogs circle as the ham and turkey were carved;
serving semi-homemade gravy (for fear of lumps);
...and now that I think about it, did Noah eat his vegetables?

Nope, Thanksgiving doesn't care about cancer.
And today, neither did I.

Just becasue you have cancer, There's no reason NOT to look cute

I often say:
"Just because you have cancer, there's no reason NOT to look cute."
It's become my rallying cry.
It's how I feel like my normal self BEFORE breast cancer.
Besides,
I like it when people notice that I put forth a little effort.
And I like it when people recognize me, for me and not the cancer.


Today I didn't put forth much effort.
And today, I learned the opposite of people saying I looked good.
Eyeing me suspiciously, the comments SOUNDED something LIKE:
"You feeling okay? You sure..."
which was completely appropriate since I didn't even try to look cute.


I'll admit it, my hair was pulled back in a bun...a bun!!!
I think at some point, I put on a little lipstick,
but after chewing on my partially, chapped lips
I think we can pretty much agree that I didn't wear make-up.
And I have no idea what I wore beneath my neck.
All I remember is that it was whatever I threw on in the chaos that ensued before walking,
...okay running, the kids to the bus stop.


Although I wouldn't admit it to anyone:
I didn't try to look cute today because I didn't feel well.
I didn't feel well, because I couldn't take my meds.
I couldn't take my meds because I had to drive.


Better to drive un-cute
than to drive under the influence.

My Big Fat Pink Pokeno

I knew that last night's Pokeno would be different, and it was.
I knew that you girls would wear pink, and you did not disappoint.

With raised glasses, we toasted.
I thought, "How sweet. They really care."

But it really wasn't until later, when everyone kept asking:
"Are you okay? Are you getting tired? We can quit playing at any time,"
that I knew you were all more concerned about how I was feeling than I was.
(Hey, a little morphine does that to a girl.)

Thanks for the gifts you generously gave.
Your generosity was completely unexpected.





My presents were:
TOUCHING (two breast cancer bracelets)
FIT-FOR-A DIVA (blinged-out wine glass)
WARM(hand-crafted scarf with matching socks)
MERRY & BRIGHT (Christmas tree with ornaments and lights)
INTOXICATING (Ice Tea Flavored Vodka, Mike's and bottles of wine)
SEMI-EDUCATIONAL (bookmark, without the prerequisite cancer book attached)
INTIMATE(personal care products, including moisturising gloves that I will wear during treatment)
PRACTICAL (camera case; pink ribbon chip clips; cork stoppers (upon first glance, Jeff was a little frightened by the "Rabbit"; plastic drinking glass - yeah, I know a bit of an oxymoron, but blame it on the morphine)

AND COLORFUL (pink, of course)!

Thanks for allowing me to share, even when it was time to go home.
Thank you all for listening.
Thanks for "getting me." I sometimes feel like I am an "acquired" taste.

Thanks for the best BIG FAT PINK POKENO a girl could ever have hoped for.

Mastectomy Fashions 101

I could teach a class.
Since being diagnosed with breast cancer a little more than a month ago,
I have managed to Jerri-rig enough wardrobe separates to "make it work."

My ability to adopt is part necessity,
part wanting to look cute.
Here are five of my mastectomy fashion favorites:

1) The issue of concealing drains (see 10/19 blog), is a temporary
problem, that can last several weeks. I usually put my drains in a
fanny pack for convenience. Since fanny packs are not cute (and that
is the point here), I try to conceal them underneath a long shirt
or in my pants, whenever possible. Be forewarned:
this will NOT work if you are wearing tight pants. (Got the visual?)
However, if you have a pair of "fat" jeans hanging in the back of the
closet, tuck away. Just remember, you don't want others noticing your
"man package." That's just plain weird.

2) Under wire bras from Victoria's Secret are not your friends!
"Ta-ta for now!" (Pun intended.)
I've made the switch to silky camisoles. When I still had one of my original
parts, I wore camis with the shelf bra. But after the second mastectomy,
I switched to the camisoles sans the shelf bra. This eliminates the rubbing
and binding. And let's be honest, my girls aren't going anywhere for the next
80 years.

Which leads me to sleeping.

3) After having a mastectomy, sleeping is tricky, especially following a
bilateral mastectomy. I was left with one option: sleeping on my back. When
even my most delicate pajamas irritated my surgical scars, I got desperate.
My solution was simple: go topless. It's a crowd pleaser...especially to my
husband.

4) Razor-back tees, tank tops, wife-beaters (or whatever you call them)
really work well. But watch out for high contents of Lycra. You don't
wants SPANX smooshing everything in. Love them on my thighs: on my boobs,
not so much.

Finally, in honor of Thanksgiving...

5) If you have a mastectomy on one side, it's okay to admit that your
"new" side may look better than your original parts (see Nov. 5 blog).
Take a page from a Martha Stewart "Living" Magazine and "stuff" that breast.
Bon Appetit!

Mammogram Debate

Whoa!
I just heard a report from an independent task force that stated most
women don't need a mammogram before the age of 50. Unless there is an
increased risk, women should wait until they turn 50 before having a
mammogram, every two years. The point being that mammograms doesn't
save enough lives in younger women.

Seems like I've heard this argument before. Younger breasts are more
dense, and therefore, a mammogram might not detect a lump or it might
give a false positive. In addition, the cumulative affects of radiation
might CAUSE cancer.

If that isn't confusing enough, this same task force is also telling
women not to bother with breast self-exams because they aren't reliable.
The yield is low and the anxiety is high.

The anxiety is high? Really!?!
The yield is low? Seriously!?!
Guess how I found my lump?
Guess how my sister found hers?

(BTW, the American Cancer Society disagrees with the new recommended guidelines.)

So what are you supposed to do?
Ultimately, you may not have a choice when it comes to your mammogram.
The decision will, at some point, be made by your insurance company,
and we all know how much they care about your health.

As far as self-exams, you're in-charge of this one!
Start touching yourself. If you don't roll like that, have your
husband do it; he will love it. (Enough said on that subject.)
The point is: if you find a lump or have a question, contact your
provider immediately. My lump was neither detected by by mammogram
nor ultrasound. It wasn't until after I invited the radiologist to
"cop a feel" that he ordered a breast MRI that finally showed something
suspicious.

Your Breast, Your Health, Your Life.
What's the debate about?