Tuesday, August 19, 2008
and you call yourself a latina
my friend david is here visiting from california! just 24 hrs in nyc to say hello. he says i look the same as i always have (so does my mom), but i think they're being generous. i have eyes and i can see that any curves i used to have seem to have slipped right off of my body. my nalgas no longer provide any cushion when seated, but thanks to my mom's home cooking, my pansa is beginning to make a comeback. pretty soon you can call me ol' pot-belly chicken legs.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
the visuals
when i was in the hospital, i was not taking photos at my usual obsessed rate. i actually turned the camera off during surgeries and other unattractive procedures. here are a few that i managed to snap in my more lucid moments.
day 1: i had no idea what was awaiting me.
i let my hair down. i was figuring this hospital business was a piece of cake.
the support crew enjoying some daytime television.
self-portrait #1: hair tied with gauze, the Fountain Look.
mama crashes at home.
self-portrait #2: wandering the hallway of the 8th floor
one of my many beds.
the exciting view from that bed.
if you stood near the window and leaned toward the right, you could see manhattan.
daytime drama
dear sweet gypsy visits.
self-portrait #3: don't let this happen to you.
there are always calls to be made.
breakfast in my fancy single room.
even a window-washer visited me.
self-portrait #4: puppy love
debating on blogging about the food.
exhaustion was rampant.
but the support team was always ready with a smile.
dear david visited me from the far away island of manhattan.
and harry was a ray of sunshine. he was very excited to read the menu from five guys burgers.
ej's mom, hanna, was a godsend.
here she is as flower arranger in my bathroom.
the bobsey twins.
if you stood near the window and leaned toward the left, you could see the brooklyn waterfront and nyc's first ikea store.
self-portrait #5: when can i go home?
the nurses' station on the cancer floor.
my last day in the hospital! i was hooked up for my first round of chemo, but a girl's gotta eat.
dr. weinreb came to see me! he performed my first two surgeries. he's one of my favorites.
there was some sort of hullaballoo right before my first surgery. it was the middle of the night, i hadn't eaten since midnight the night before, i was waiting outside the operating room when it became apparent that someone wanted my surgery postponed until morning. dr. weinreb vehemently argued on my behalf and because of that, i was able to start this whole process that much sooner.
i may not have been smiling when he first told me i have cancer, but all the other times i saw him he made me laugh.
side view of some of the surgical handiwork. the smaller taped area is where they removed the tumor and my right ovary. the larger gauze is covering the incisions for the lung biopsies.
the alpha and the omega of my team of doctors: dr. yunayev. this is the person i met the very first time i entered the er and this is the last doctor i saw before i left the hospital. he constantly kept tabs on me no matter what floor i was transferred to, was present for my first two surgeries, gave me hugs, encouragement, listened to what i had to say, and one night, personally delivered a gorgeous cheeseburger, cajun fries, and coke to me just to help me feel a little more human. needless to say, i'm a big, big fan.
my first cycle of chemotherapy. when i was done with this, i went home! see how easy?
day 1: i had no idea what was awaiting me.
i let my hair down. i was figuring this hospital business was a piece of cake.
the support crew enjoying some daytime television.
self-portrait #1: hair tied with gauze, the Fountain Look.
mama crashes at home.
self-portrait #2: wandering the hallway of the 8th floor
one of my many beds.
the exciting view from that bed.
if you stood near the window and leaned toward the right, you could see manhattan.
daytime drama
dear sweet gypsy visits.
self-portrait #3: don't let this happen to you.
there are always calls to be made.
breakfast in my fancy single room.
even a window-washer visited me.
self-portrait #4: puppy love
debating on blogging about the food.
exhaustion was rampant.
but the support team was always ready with a smile.
dear david visited me from the far away island of manhattan.
and harry was a ray of sunshine. he was very excited to read the menu from five guys burgers.
ej's mom, hanna, was a godsend.
here she is as flower arranger in my bathroom.
the bobsey twins.
if you stood near the window and leaned toward the left, you could see the brooklyn waterfront and nyc's first ikea store.
self-portrait #5: when can i go home?
the nurses' station on the cancer floor.
my last day in the hospital! i was hooked up for my first round of chemo, but a girl's gotta eat.
dr. weinreb came to see me! he performed my first two surgeries. he's one of my favorites.
there was some sort of hullaballoo right before my first surgery. it was the middle of the night, i hadn't eaten since midnight the night before, i was waiting outside the operating room when it became apparent that someone wanted my surgery postponed until morning. dr. weinreb vehemently argued on my behalf and because of that, i was able to start this whole process that much sooner.
i may not have been smiling when he first told me i have cancer, but all the other times i saw him he made me laugh.
side view of some of the surgical handiwork. the smaller taped area is where they removed the tumor and my right ovary. the larger gauze is covering the incisions for the lung biopsies.
the alpha and the omega of my team of doctors: dr. yunayev. this is the person i met the very first time i entered the er and this is the last doctor i saw before i left the hospital. he constantly kept tabs on me no matter what floor i was transferred to, was present for my first two surgeries, gave me hugs, encouragement, listened to what i had to say, and one night, personally delivered a gorgeous cheeseburger, cajun fries, and coke to me just to help me feel a little more human. needless to say, i'm a big, big fan.
my first cycle of chemotherapy. when i was done with this, i went home! see how easy?
strength through nana's recipe
my parents are in my kitchen making tacos de papas con chorizo. it smells heavenly. after a light-headed, wobbly morning, i'm feeling fortified by the coming vision of a plate of those savory, homemade delicacies. the aztec gods are jealous.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
my new life
yesterday i took my first shower in two weeks. hot water and soap are a magical combination. throw in some shampoo, and all is right with the world. well, kinda.
my little trip to the er turned out to be more than i bargained for. i've been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and it has spread to my lungs. in the past two weeks, i've had three surgeries, countless iv's, shots, probing tests of both the manual and hi-tech nature, a very nasty encounter with a long, wide tube that was aimed for my stomach, but entered through my nose, my first colonoscopy (i need to eat more fiber), my first mammogram (all clear), assorted catheters (not so bad), and my first cycle of chemotherapy (better than i feared).
i've also encountered so many wonderful doctors and nurses that i've been overwhelmed by more than their professional dedication, but also by their genuine kindness. one doctor brought me magazines that he knew i'd like. another brought me a cheeseburger and fries. others were giving me bear hugs and visiting me and researching support groups for me. these were my doctors! i could cry just thinking about it.
i'm home now. my body is battered and bruised. i took a good look at it yesterday. it looks vaguely familiar, but with the wounds of what looks like i was in a knife fight, or perhaps kicked around by a horse. i'm exhausted, but i'm surrounded by people who love me, and that makes all the difference.
it looks like i may have to change the name of my url from curlywithglasses.blogspot.com to "curly with cancer". or eventually, "bald with glasses".
photos to come.
my little trip to the er turned out to be more than i bargained for. i've been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and it has spread to my lungs. in the past two weeks, i've had three surgeries, countless iv's, shots, probing tests of both the manual and hi-tech nature, a very nasty encounter with a long, wide tube that was aimed for my stomach, but entered through my nose, my first colonoscopy (i need to eat more fiber), my first mammogram (all clear), assorted catheters (not so bad), and my first cycle of chemotherapy (better than i feared).
i've also encountered so many wonderful doctors and nurses that i've been overwhelmed by more than their professional dedication, but also by their genuine kindness. one doctor brought me magazines that he knew i'd like. another brought me a cheeseburger and fries. others were giving me bear hugs and visiting me and researching support groups for me. these were my doctors! i could cry just thinking about it.
i'm home now. my body is battered and bruised. i took a good look at it yesterday. it looks vaguely familiar, but with the wounds of what looks like i was in a knife fight, or perhaps kicked around by a horse. i'm exhausted, but i'm surrounded by people who love me, and that makes all the difference.
it looks like i may have to change the name of my url from curlywithglasses.blogspot.com to "curly with cancer". or eventually, "bald with glasses".
photos to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
