Mad Men+A Tale of New York and LA

This last episode of Mad Men was a great one. "A Tale of Two Cities" propelled many of the main character's plot lines and there is much great stuff in it.  If you love MM, this is a feast of plenty.

There are obvious similarities to the original story "A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens (social unrest as a historical backdrop, water as symbolism for growing tension). In this episode, Megan asks if she should pack Don's swimming trunks for his trip, and later advises him, "Take a swim, you always feel better."  We'll see about that.


Things are still shaking out after the merger of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (SCDP) and their competitor Cutler Gleason and Chaough (CGC). Despite the merger of the only two firms that she's worked for, Peggy feels like she is taking a step back. SCDP, where she rose from secretary to ad woman, is traveled ground and it leaves her a little road weary. When the SCDP and CGC merged a few episodes ago in order to pursue Chevy as a client, Peggy looked surprised at the news, then concerned, even angry because she was going back to the office environment she thought she had left behind. Compared to Don Draper's often rough mentoring, she much prefers the style of Ted Chaough of CGC, her most recent boss. Okay, so maybe she has a little thing for him, too, but she definitely doesn't want to see Don's darkness rub off on saintly Ted.



Did you catch the cool, but stung look on Joan's face after she realized the date set up by her friend Kate was simply so the new head of Avon marketing could pick her brain about what to look for in a advertising agency? Mr. Avon doesn't want to go out with her, he just wants to ask Joan a few questions about what he should expect from a firm handling Avon's marketing. He knows that Joan works in an ad agency but he feels safe by exploring these issues with her since they didn't meet under the premise of doing business.


Joan isn't exactly in sales (okay, there was Mr. Jaguar),

but she isn't about to take leave the table without something. Joan's hurt pride takes her on a long ride in this episode, but she's nothing if not resourceful. She promptly gains the full attention of Mr. Avon, luring him in smart talk, cool smiles and flattering references to his intelligence. (We can't forget there's those other two quite visible assets she brings to the table . . . .)  Joan tells him that her current position at the firm requires her to think of things before people know they need them. And true to her description, Joan is filling her firm's need for another account woman before they even realize they need one. Mr. Avon is intrigued. Joan picks up the check to underscore her hope for a professional connection.


Things go south when Joan confides in Peggy, her long-time office friend, and peer. (They're similar in their intelligence and ability and desire to get ahead, but they have different methods for accomplishing their ends.) Peggy tells Joan that Ted will be happy about the new business no matter where it came from, and proceeds to a rushed hallway meeting with Ted, Joan in tow.

Ted tells Peggy he doesn't have much time to talk to her, so is it any surprise that he doesn't get the inference that Peggy is trying to convey: "Joan wants to run with this new business, what say you?"  As the firms have only recently merged, Ted doesn't have a thorough knowledge of Joan's professional abilities, so he does what he would routinely do: Hand the client off to someone like Pete Campbell, head of new accounts. In fact that is just what he does, and he tells Joan that Peggy and Pete will be great on the account, completely leaving her despite the fact that she is the one that made contact with the client.

Pete tells Joan that she should contact Mr. Avon and set up a meeting for Peggy and for him, but Joan isn't invited. Joan, still riding the pride pony, won't do that. Instead, she schedules a meeting and invites only Peggy, who is uncomfortably forced to back up Joan's play to get Avon's marketing business.


When Pete finds out, he goes whining to Ted and they all meet in a conference room.

 Pete is yelling, Ted is upset and Peggy is ordered out of the room. But she listens in in her office on a secret and forgotten intercom and intervenes just as Joan's head is about to come up to the guillotine. She quickly sends in a fake message from Mr. Avon asking Joan to call him.


So, yep, that settles that. Everybody hates Pete's whining and Ted says

possession is 9/10ths of the law, so crisis averted. Well, it will be if Avon really does call. This time Peggy backed Joan's play willingly and if the client doesn't actually turn up,Peggy will have some explaining to do to her beloved Ted.  Joan owes Peggy a great debt for being so resourceful and heading off Joan's come-uppance at her own potential expense.

Peggy's being in the right spot at the right time to help Joan is a bit of synchronicity that is worth exploring. Peggy's new office at her old firm finds her in cramped quarters (again), but it is the very spot place where Peggy herself became part of the advertising wheel. In the days when Peggy was a secretary, the firm ad men sat in a dark, cramped office with one-way mirror and an intercom concealed behind drapes, and watched and commented as consumers (sometimes their own secretaries) tested their clients' products. The point was to gain ideas for copy, but it more often than not turned into a display of male crudity and yet another excuse to drink while at work. Even Don was disgusted with some of their antics.

Peggy was being observed, but separated herself from the secretarial pack testing lipsticks and being observed  and lured at from behind the glass.  She called a trashcan of blotted lipstick tissues a "basket of kisses."




  The ad guys, watching from behind the glass, decide Peggy was a bit clever, and should give them some copy for their beauty product client, Belle Jolie. Peggy did so successfully and "Mark Your Man" was not only the beginning of Peggy's advertising career, but a successful slogan for Belle Jolie beauty products. (She mentions the "Mark your Man" campaign to Mr. Avon during their luncheon.)  Peggy has definitely come full circle on the wheel. While she was the one being observed by the all-male club making the big decisions that would affect the rest of her life, now she is the one observing Pete and Ted's meeting and taking definitive action in a real show of female solidarity with Joan.

There were so many interesting things that also came up with Bob and Ginsberg, too. (Seeing their names together made me think of Bob Dylan and his close friend Allen Ginsberg.) Bob Benson is that character that seems benign, but is so hard to completely trust or like. He is always smiling, lurking where he's not supposed to be, ready to be needed by anyone he may in turn need, kissing butt so hard that you know he has toilet paper in his teeth (he actually bought TP for his boss Pete).

When Bob witnesses Ginsberg having a melt down and having a heated political (and hypocritical) interchange with their boss, Cutler, Bob steps in and chides Ginsy. From that point forward, Ginsy and Bob are marked men in the mind of their boss, the amphetamine-addled Cutler. Ginsy for speaking back to a superior and Bob for being witness to the small rebellion of Ginsy.

So, its a small surprise when Cutler sets up both Bob and Ginsy to take the hit for losing the Manischewitz account. But Bob was then promptly rewarded with an assignment to Detroit in support of the new Chevy account. Remember, Ken Kosgrove nearly died in a car accident due to the antics of drunken Chevy account men? I suspect Bob's reward is imaginary as he will probably be Ken's replacement as a whipping boy for Detroit. Still, Michigan could be the place where Bob will finally shine.  That is, if you forget that the car that he's going to be working to advertise successfully is the still-secret VEGA. In that light, it would seem that the firm is putting too many eggs in the Chevy basket and might well prove to be detrimental to the financial health of the firm.

Ginsy, Bob and Pete bear more reflection, but I find myself coming back to the question that interests me most and that I've been asking myself since Season 2: Will Don Draper's character end up "in the movie business, too?" Can't you see Don as agent or studio head?  What I can't see is Don continuing in his present occupation. Despite his success, he is clearly bored and wants to run away. His recent idea for client Sheraton's Hawaii campaign showed shoes, a suit and tie being left on the sand with an ocean in the background, with the caption: "Hawaii: the jumping off point."  Sheraton didn't like it and saw it as a reference to suicide.

In this episode, Don and Roger and Harry Crane head out to L.A. to court Carnation, a potential client. Harry probably had a great time as his smarminess boils over when around his own kind (TV/movie folk),
but Roger got a knock in the pants and Don ended up being a man overboard and about to step off into paradise (read: not Hawaii). Roger deserved what he got for his snarky remarks to Danny, trying to steal his girl, but mostly for dressing like Thurston Howell, III. It was made  much more confusing for Roger that the punch to his zipper was delivered by Danny, literally a little man who couldn't make it in the ad world--despite his family connections--and who was unceremoniously fired by Roger after one day. But with his L.A. crowd, Danny is connected, relaxed and in charge. (No wonder Roger sees himself as a New Yorker.)  Why was Danny the first person Don noticed at the party. Is that significant? Don was noticed, too; described by party goers as "the guy who came in a taxi." (New York, anyone?)


As the guys mingle at the party, we see Don drift over to talk to a composer, who says that if times get hard, he'll look Don up because he digs jingles and the bread is out of sight. (If times get hard? Snap!) He asks Don who he represents, and Don throws out a few names plus his old favorite, Mohawk Airlines.  The composer clearly doesn't know the company and Don gives an embarrassed and brief explanation. Remember when Don was the righteous ad man who thought it cheap and crass to drop Mohawk as a client when Sterling and Cooper wanted to do just that in order to pursue American Airlines? Compare that to the guy who is so uninterested in his own company that he really doesn't care whether his name is on the door. But who can blame him? In this episode his partner Roger tells Don: “We’re conquistadors. I’m Vasco de Gama and you’re . . . some other Mexican.”

An episode from the second season, The Jet Set, (Season 2, Episode 11), seemed to have a lot of more going on than just what was apparent on the surface. It was  about how we want things to be versus how they really are. It's one of the few times we see Don sort of out of his element and a bit awed by wealth and freedom. Don once wanted to be a certain kind of man and now has so much of what he once thought was important, but he's lost himself along the way. I seem to remember that in that episode, the Count or his daughter Joy asking Don if he was from Hollywood or worked in Hollywood. It would be a perfect fit and was a natural assumption. Maybe he will end up there yet.


When Don got screwed up on amphetamines a few episodes ago, he had an interesting exchange with a trippy young girl (daughter of the recently deceased Frank Gleason, a partner Don acquired during the merger). Wendy tells him that what he wants to know is "who loves him." Then she listens to his heart with a stethoscope and tells him it is broken, she can't hear it. Don's had lots of women and is typically depressed when the affair is over. I assume that is because he was abandoned and left by the early women in his life and he is always trying to conquer that feeling and win the love of all the women in his life. He's even a little jealous of Peggy's affection for Ted. But he's cheated on his wives and mistresses, ignored his children, lied about most of his existence and has become indifferent to life and death. Contrast his repeated nonplussed reactions to the violence on the news with the ones we see from Megan, Joan or Peggy and we can't help but notice that Don just can't bring himself to care about anything but himself.

At the end of this season's episode 7, we saw Megan watching the news in the aftermath of Bobby Kennedy's assassination while Don sat on the bed away from her, feeling sorry for himself for the end of his most recent affair. In the background, his empty suit hung on a valet suit stand, a pretty picture on the wall just above it. Does that represent Don's ability to paint a pretty picture while being totally clueless and absent in his own life? With so little anchoring him to the joy of life, it's not all that curious that he has had visions of dead people for awhile now.

After sitting down to smoke hash from a hookah at the L. A. party, things start to get all dreamy. He's suddenly kissing the hostess, denying his name is Don, saying he is really thirsty (for substance?). He is advised by the hostess that "There's a pool full of water out there, Don."

Megan suddenly appears to Don (dressed once again like Sharon Tate), and while she is very much alive, I got reinforcement for the notion that their love, like their baby, is dead. She takes Don by the hand, leads him through the party, then stops at the bar and says to him, "Everybody is looking for you." Don doesn't answer as he doesn't even have an answer. He's looking for himself, too.


Megan then morphs into the also very dead Pfc. Dinkins (the soldier Don met in Hawaii) appears and whips out the lighter and once again gives Don some fire. (Have you noticed that Don always pulls out a cigarette when he is at a loss for words?) While the real Don is probably floating face down in a pool, the hashed-out Don takes a pull off his cig as he listens to Dinkins: "My wife thinks I'm MIA, but I'm dead."

Hmm, Megan thinks she and Don just aren't connecting, but the truth is that he is dead inside. Dinkins goes on to tell Don that being dead doesn't make you whole and tells him he should see himself. That's when Don has an out-of-body experience and realizes that he is seeing himself floating face down in the pool in full suit and tie and shoes. It's very reminiscent of the opening montage of MM when Don turns and falls face down, all while wearing dapper business apparel.

There was a lot of obvious and neat symbolism in this episode, but I kind of wondered why the hash specifically made Don see dead people. I'm not sure it was really the hash or Don's tenuous grip on emotional, moral health. But it could be that Don is being compared to Theophile Gautier, noted to be the founder of the 1840s Club of Hashish-Easters, who when meeting up with a part of that group at a local hotel for the first time, mentions attending one of their regular seances. Apparently the group was known for trying to contact the dead while smoking hash.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Club_des_Hashischins

So then, if Roger's therapist is correct that the job of your life is to know yourself and then you'll love yourself, we have to wonder if Don knows himself at all. He looked downright scared after Roger made this statement. If he knows himself at all, he knows he grew up in a whorehouse and has made a living hustling one thing or another. His similarity to the prostitutes he grew up with is made worse by the fact that unlike them, he has little or no honor. Will he die in Babylon, too?

Despite popular predictions, I don't think Don will kill himself. When he's unhappy, Don runs away. He's been running away from his life for most of his life and his connection to liquid (swimming, drinking, nearly drowning) could be seen as a baptism of sorts. Instead of suicide, perhaps Don is going to be reborn now as something else. Maybe not better, but not Dick Whitman, either. He's great at reinvention. Isn't the opening montage of the show simply Don falling past all his past successes? Where is he going?

 L.A. anyone?

 

Have I taken my love of Tryion Lannister too far?

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Bender, Dreamy Dog

Blessings! Blessings! Blessings!

Hey all, I'm back from my 2nd treatment at Duke and wanted to give a small report.

I met with my oncologist Dr. Kimmick and she reported that the margins that so clearly defined my large tumors are gone. I'll leave the details out of this and just say that this means that the two tumors I had are responding to the drug therapy. They're not gone, but they are lessened.  I asked the doc if she was gonna put a smiley face beside her clinical notes for that one and she hugged me instead and said it was really good news! She told me that my treatment is working.

I am responding to the HERCEPTIN! Herceptin is the drug that helps women with HER2 positive tumors. Doesn't work on everyone, but for some people, it can be a magic bullet.

Am I one of those people?

 I think I am, I think I am, I think I am!

When I go to Duke for medical treatment, the schedule runs something like this: We drive in Tuesday night, get some sleep, get up and get blood work, meet with my oncologist and then I receive my chemotherapy. On the second morning, I get the Neulasta shot and we go home.


However, this particular trip to Duke turned out a little differently. When I went for my blood work, the techs noticed something wrong with the port that was installed during my last trip. A port is handy because it can be used to draw blood or administer chemo fluids.

Here's a link to the exact port I'm using. Doesn't it look like a little purple heart?

http://www.bardaccess.com/port-powerport.php

The nurses finally decided port was that it had flipped over, which meant they could not access it.  But how does that happen? I dunno. They didn't want me to have it repaired on the same day as my chemo infusion so I had to wait until the next day and have it done before my Neulasta shot.  So many social engagements, so little time.

This problem with the port meant I was late getting to the infusion room and we didn't get out of there until 7:30 p.m.  I was really drained. 


But I still had a something wonderful to look forward to, something I was excited to do. As soon as we got back to the hotel, I fluffed what was left of my hair and went to see my friend Michelle, who had come down to visit with me from Charlotte, NC, and was also spending the night in the hotel.


I am so very glad I got to spend some time with Mi-shoo. She looked simply wonderful and we got caught up on a lot of what was going on in her life. She has a nine-month old baby girl I haven't even held yet, and a brilliant, gorgeous seven-year old boy I've truly grown to love.  We talked about half an hour and then went out to get dinner. It was a lovely evening altogether. 


The next morning we met for breakfast, but she is a working lawyer and had to be up and on her way all too soon. She insisted on paying for our room for two nights because that's just the kind of friend she is. She's asked me time and time again what she can do to help me, but I've already been so blessed, there was nothing specifically I could ask her to do. But I'm confident that whatever I had asked, she would have tried to help me with it. 


I have to say I've just been blown away by all the kindness and love God has sent our way. Michelle's visit was a special treat for me. I've missed seeing her. Good friends are blessings in life. Best friends are downright sacred!

After breakfast, Pat and I had to report to the hospital to get geared up for the port repositioning.  The docs said that this port flip-flop almost never happens and apologized profusely--to Pat. What is it with male doctors talking to Pat but ignoring me! As for the port flip-a-doo, Inza, my cousin, says she thinks it is from all the hugging I did last Friday at my benefit. Sounds plausible, right? The doctor actually surmised that the notch they cut out for the port was just a little too large and that the scar tissue that was supposed to form around it failed to hold it in place. So they gave me some sutures to hold my McDerment-proofed power port in its place. I can hug again with impunity.

So, this was a good trip, but we didn't get back until about 11:30 p.m. on Thursday and we were tired and ready to go straight to bed. But there were dogs to be petted and talked to and hugged. And my Mom needed to be talked to and hugged. I always have to find some little something for Mom when we are out and about, so I had a few little presents for her. We want to make sure she knows we appreciate all that she does for us. She's doing good keeping everything in order at home while we're away.

While I was at Duke, I picked up a wig and a few cute hats from one of the support groups there. My cousins Inza and Dianne will be pleased to know that the one I liked best is the one that is closest to their hair color.  I think Mom secretly covets it . . . . .

Just kidding, Inza.

This wig couldn't have come at a better time, because my headrest in the car was starting to look like a mad, blonde hen had tried to nest there.  (Um, maybe that is what happened?) 

So, the time had come for action. Friday morning, Mom and I got up early and she took ye olde trusty Oster Golden to my head. It wasn't bad. I wasn't emotional. I was glad to be moving on. The more of these milestones that pass, the sooner I can be well. Sinead O'Connor I'm not, neither am I Quasimodo. I do look something like Mr. Magoo or Uncle Fester, but who cares? My treatment is working! As my friend Teresa O'Cassidy predicted, being bald gave me the best night's sleep I'd had in years.

So today, I am just thanking God for all these good things, all the wonderful people in my life, another day of good news. Another day He did something wonderful for us. Another day of blessings, blessings, blessings!



I'll try to keep up blogging as the days go by, but I'm just about at that time when I get really tired and don't want to do much. 

This makes me also thankful for two particular blessing: Comfortable pajamas and the ability to GO BACK TO BED!

The Word is THANKFUL

There is a lot of power in the words we use or say to ourselves or one another. We can bless or blow someone away, depending on the choice of our words.  My word today is THANKFUL.

My cousin Sharon has a real gift of prayer and man, when she prays over me, I feel like God's got his hand right on my head, touching me. Her every word packs powerful imagery and is filled with recognition of God's power and his love for each of us. I love it when Sharon prays for me. I almost feel unworthy of the prayers she says over me. I want to say, "But I'm not all that good! I don't deserve this love!" But last night was something like that, too. I hope my words back to you, my friends, resonate in some small way, especially with those of you who have done so much to show your support for me in this very tangible way. Thank you for your words of love and healing and power and God's spirit over me.

Luke 6:38 says: "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." I don't think I've ever done anything to merit what's been given to me these last few days, but it sure feels pressed down, shaken together, running over and poured into my lap. I am really grateful beyond my capacity to tell you but my hope is that you will have some sense of the measure of it.

There were so many people who came to play bingo, buy jewelry and just support my personal cause last night. Some I didn't even know, some were long-time friends of the family and some were my very beloved family. I think I was most surprised by the people who didn't even know me, but just wanted to spread the love. One lady told me she didn't know me, but she saw the ad my cousins placed in the Coal Valley News for the Bingo fundraiser and having just gone through chemo and a mastectomy, she wanted to come out and show her support for me. Man, stuff like that just makes the tears flow like water with me. God is so good and his people can be so good, too.

I was especially moved that my family supported me in such an obvious way. I mean, they basically got this event planned then sort of informed me they were doing it and hoped I could be there. They know--because they're just like me--that I would never ask for them for help. It's one of those things that I've always been somewhat prideful about. I am realizing that it is not good to be that way, but the great part of this is that I've been pretty blessed while learning this important lesson.

For those who may not know or wonder why they felt I might merit a fundraiser, Pat and I have had some extra expenses with my medical treatment since I'm going out of town to Duke, which means overnight stays at hotels and meals, not to mention the cost that goes along with any cancer treatment. And I've gone through this before, and anyone who has knows how quickly this illness can drain a savings account.  It is true that it was my choice not to be treated here at home, but there were good reasons for that decision. Here in Charleston, my first cancer in 2006--oral cancer--was misdiagnosed as a benign condition, and then last summer, the tumors in my breast were said to be benign as well. Just didn't leave me with a lot of confidence in the care I've been able to get here in WV.  I don't mean to be sharing too much and I've really tried to avoid talking much about being sick on FB or elsewhere, but at the same time, I feel some of you may wonder why I am going out of town for treatment. I am sure there are great doctors in our city and I've been fortunate enough to have a few, but since the stakes are so high, I felt I wanted to go to the best place I possibly could. I am blessed to have a husband who supported that decision.

Okay, now that I've got that all 'splained, I want to give thanks for my wonderful family who saw a need and gave from their hearts. I adore them! Sisters Milisa, Inza and Tresa were there doing some heavy lifting and organizing and my cousins Tabatha, Gloria and her husband Joe, Dianne and son Donnie, Bev, Nicole, Tina, Vera and Vickie Tyler-Slater who is my cousin in love, even if not blood. I can't say enough good things about this bunch or the way they've been there for me. Some of them came a long way and obviously went out of there way to be with me last night and I hope I was able to express to them how much it meant to me. They're all beautiful and wonderful and special. And they're my cousins!!  I was also really glad to see my ex-sister-in-law Nancy (still very much part of my family) and her boyfriend, Scott, there, too. They make such a good-looking pair and I was happy to see Nancy happy.

Then there was my wonderful Premier Designs jewelry family! Wonderful Dorothy Prudich (who along with my cousin Milisa, really started the whole idea of a fundraiser on my behalf) and her crew of Lisa Means and Linda (neither of whom knew me, but have a heart for love and service), were there to show jewelry and help raise money, along with my sweet and beautiful cousin Tabatha, who came even though her husband Blake is just getting over very serious health scare. Then I also have to really give a shout out to Kelly and Julie Stewart from my Georgia Premier family, who were there with their two cute Yorkshire Terriers. (I ask you, would an event for me be complete if dogs were not a part of it?) I've only spent a single day in Kelly and Julie's home, yet they treated me as if I were a valued friend. 

I also want to share that Premier Designs jewelry company had been a real blessing to me in the midst of all the stuff that has been going on in my life. One of the great things they did for me was to suspend my active membership as a designer until I can be well and active in the company again. This effectively freezes my license and keeps the clock from ticking on the jeweler fee I've paid which enables me to sell their jewelry.  I had just started with Premier when my Mom had her car accident and then I was diagnosed, so I wasn't really able to get a full head of steam going with them. My cuz Milisa who is my upline has told me many times that this is a company built on Godly principles and I've sure seen it to be true. Once notified of my situation, they quickly let me know I needn't worry about trying to stay active in sales as I was dealing with health issues. I don't know any other company who would do so much for someone who'd been with them such a short time. I hope when I get back to being healthy again, I can bring more people and friends into the Premier fold. Not only is their jewelry beautiful and guaranteed, they are devoted to making life better for their employees. They've proven to me that they not only talk the talk, they walk it. Those are the kind of folks I want to be part of my life.

Several of my friends told me how cool they thought it was that I was so close to my family and that my Premier family had turned out to support me, too. I was really proud of both families and really glad to show all of you off to those who are my friends, but not relatives. It's like having a spouse that everybody likes (and I do have one of those): it only reflects well on the other half. You all sure made me look good last night.

Then there were my former co-workers, some of whom were working the concession stand and didn't get to get out and get about and hobnob with everyone else: My dear friend from the first time we met, Beth, along with her new husband Virgil Lipscomb (they're so cute; still honeymooning). Beth is a supremely talented cook and brought cookies to share with us. She also sold some at work earlier in the day to aid my cause. Isn't that cool? Of course, Beth's cookies are a bargain at any price. They're like carbohydrate crack; I crave them fortnightly. I was thankful to also see my favorite Marmetian: the always-helpful and loving, point-me-in-the-direction-I'm-needed Terri Bray, and the endlessly talented and funny Deadra Cummins. I had so much fun with all of them when we worked together. It's really crazy and wonderful all at the same time that people I worked with on what is now going on eight years ago still think enough of me to be there for me. I don't miss the work so much, but I really do miss all my good friends back at Guthrie & Thomas. It's nice that I can still see them and hug their necks and tell them how much I miss them. They're good people.

But man, I absolutely cannot forget to thank my favorite Twister Sisters (or is that Twisted Sisters?), Teresa O'Cassidy and Lois Swannigan, who both went to high school with me. Along with my fabulous cousin Inza--who, incidentally, is part of another Twisted Sister act ; - ), they made up "The Lunch Crew." This is the great name they thought up for us since we've had some really LONG, but fun and laughter-filled luncheons, They actually brought Elvis wigs for the four of us to wear just to make me hoot with laughter--which it did--and then proceeded to present me with pretty much all I'll ever need vanity-wise to get through all this dealio. They gave me a cool hat, a "hair hat," and other really cute caps that will be perfect for the very near day when my hair is all gone. Thanks to Teresa, for going on behalf of the the group to Resolutions II to round all that great stuff up for me. Baby, you know what I like!

We're supposed to wear the Elvis wigs at a future luncheon date . . . I can't wait for the pictures that will follow that particular outing. I think I'm blessed to have such funny, creative friends who find ways to make me laugh my fool head off.

This morning, I found bags of mints and gum and snacks in the kitchen and asked where they came from and Pat said, "Those crazy girls." He meant my loving friends, The Lunch Crew. These girls make me laugh and help me forget the cares of any day. And, btw, ladies, the only thing that tasted really good to me today were the peanut-butter snack things from those bags. Gotta love that and you!

I also really appreciate Jill McCormick for all she did in helping out before and after this shindig. She helped stay and clean and do all the end of the evening stuff. She was the last of the bunch that left and the rest of them were my family members. She didn't have to do all that, but she did and I really appreciated it.  Long ago, I got a wonderful and much-loved Scottish Terrier from Jill and her husband Mike. Isn't it funny how things come around on the banjo? Mom says she doesn't know what I mean when I say that, but I think you get the gist.

I also had some other pals from high school representing: I can't forget my beautiful, wise and sweet friends: Sharon Cullop and Paula Meadows, Janie Belcher and Vickie Dingess. My Mom always says when she talks about Sharon: "She really loves you, Russie." Sharon has called a lot since I've been sick and talked to my Mom, getting updates. Sharon has had her own bout with this kind of stuff and she knows just about how I'm feeling. Sharon's two beautiful daughters, Jessie and Olivia were there, too. I love Sharon's girls so much and it just tickled me no end to see them. Olivia even gave me one of the prizes she won and told me she wouldn't be using napkin rings, but hoped I could use them instead. (She's just a little bitty thing, so this cracked me up.)  An Sharona, here's what I have to say to you personally: Love You, MEAN IT!

My old school chum, Paula Meadows, has sent me some hilarious and uplifting cards and assured me she has others waiting to be sent. She was double-booked for the evening, missing the early part of a shower for her niece, but still came to be with me and stayed for as long as she could before leaving. Isn't that cool? And caring? And Vickie Dingess is just the same smiling, beautiful babe she was in high school. I was simply honored that she came out to support me. And grateful that she can keep secrets. [Smile.]

And that cutie Janie Belcher . . . I don't have enough words to say just how adorable she is.  She and her beautiful daughter Hannah were there playing Bingo with us and I was so pleased to see them there.  Her Mom and my Mom have been the best of buds since they worked together and Janie and I have been friends since my Mom, her Mom, Karen Webb and her Mom and Janie and I all went to Myrtle Beach for my first time there. What fun we had! Janie and her Mom, Peggy McCallister, are people we know we can count on to bring the love when we need it.

Another person who stopped by but I didn't get to spend enough time with was my first grade to forever friend Cathy Caruthers and her partner Mary Jo. I walked outside to the jungle gyms to see their two active young boys, well, in action! Cathy has been my friend for as long as I can remember. Unlike my family--who are stuck with me--she has chosen to keep me as her friend. And what a good friend she has been. The last time I was sick, Cathy was the first among my friends to call and say, "What can we do?" And she really meant for me to tell her. She's a shrink by profession and knows me pretty well, so her words of wisdom have a tendency to resonate with me. Last time, she kind of talked me back down from my scared place and I don't think I've looked back since.

And I have to give thanks, last, but not least, to my great college buddies, Randy Coleman and David "Chief" Pennington, who came such a long way to just say hello and wish me well. I was so surprised to see them, but it sure felt good to know they thought enough of me to come from Bristol and Johnson City, TN, to let me know they cared how I was faring.  They saw the event on FB and just decided to come be with us. They're both pretty big deals, so I felt even more grateful they took most of a weekend to spend in Charleston for me. Pat and I spent the morning/afternoon with them at I-Hop today, swapping stories and laughing a lot and making a new memory. Time has only improved these fellas and they were pretty doggone good to start with.

Blessings, blessings, blessings.

Yesterday and today, I felt such a sense of gratefulness and awe at all that has been done on my behalf by people I so admire and hold dear. It's been a wonderful lesson to us to just hold still and let people love us. I hope you all feel the love I send back to each and every one of you in return.

Snoopy Dancing In My Kitchen

Just a little health update for those who have wondered how things are going with me.

I went to Duke twice last month and found I loved the team of radiologists, oncologists and the surgeon who would be working with me. Dr. Horton is the main radiologist, Dr. Gretchen Kimmick is the main oncologist and Dr. Gregory Georgiade is my surgeon.

I had a real curve ball thrown at me while I was there. The radiologist started by giving me the good news that Herceptin (one of my chemo drugs) can work so effectively in some people with HER2 protein that their tumors seemingly melt away. (I heard a strong "YAY" in my head when she said that.) But then I met with the oncologist and everything was changed. She felt I might have metastatic or inflammatory breast cancer, which, I'll be honest, were the two that I was so happy I didn't have when I did my brief research on invasive ductal carcinoma. It's my way of seeing the glass half-full, but it came back to bite me. Thinking, "Well, I'm very fortunate that at least I don't have that . . . ." turned into "OmiGod, I might have that!"

She also thought she felt enlarged lymph nodes on both sides under my arms, which would mean metastatic breast cancer. The thought of inflammatory breast cancer was brought up because one of the tumors in my breast had actually punched up through the skin of my breast, below my collar bone.

I shamed myself by crying a little bit, then got myself in shape while they did a punch biopsy (to rule in or out the inflammatory breast cancer diagnosis), then cried again when I was getting dressed to go down and meet with Dr. Georgiade.  


He was great, but explained to me that the tumors I had were so large, that no matter what, the order of my treatment would be much different than I had been led to expect in Charleston, where my doctor wanted to immediately do surgery.

1. I would first have six to eight rounds of chemo to shrink the two tumors (Taxotere, Carboplatin and Herceptin), followed each by a Neulasta shot to keep my white blood cells up;

2. I would have two months of radiation, twice a day;

3. I would then have a mastectomy and lymph node dissection of the right lymph nodes, even if I did not have any sign of cancer in them. Standard protocol dictates that they are taken from either side of the armpits if large tumors are found in the breast nearest them;

4. I would have reconstructive surgery sometime later;

5. I would be well and happy and go back to everything as normal. Okay, no, he didn't really say that, but that is what I heard in the taped loop that runs in my head. I always think to myself that I've just stopped on the playground to tie my shoe and that I'm going to be back, caught up and playing with everyone real soon.

However, some days are roller coasters, even for someone like me with what I'd call a pretty good attitude.  For about three hours that day, I was feeling really scared. Then, I just said, forget this, if I have to deal with something worse than I thought I had, well, that is just what will happen. I am as equipped mentally and physically to get through that as I was the earlier diagnosis, so I am trusting God for all of this, just as I was before. He loves me, He is not punishing me, He will hold my hand through whatever comes. Nothing has changed but the words coming out of my doctor's mouth.

Okay, yes, I know the biology would be different with the other two cancers, but this again is what I heard in the taped loop that runs through my head.

So, Pat and I stayed an extra two days in Durham, awaiting Friday when I would undergo further testing.


We went to have brunch, went to a funny matinee movie, had an early dinner, strolled through the urban sprawl of shops surrounding Durham, but this was in 103 degree heat, so not as much fun as you might think. 

Pat and I looked at furniture and couches at Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware and found one at the latter place that I simply adored. Pat said to put it on my wish list, but gave me the distinct impression that not even a 20th anniversary present could make that couch look like a good deal. He hates retail pricing.  But the couch we own now was purchased at a steep price, but has served us well for over TWENTY YEARS. You could say we don't buy on impulse or splurge much in furnishing our home. My sense of style derives more from thrift shops, estate sales or hand-me-downs, with a few really good pieces thrown in here and there to show I do have a little sense.

I think I could make a house look great if given an unlimited budget, but I'm not in that position, so I make do with my own eclectic imagining of a home. It suits us. But we do need to find a place for our all Scottie collectibles. No matter how artfully I arrange them, the sheer volume is starting to be creepy, not fun. But that's a thought for another day.


Much refreshed from our day of relaxation, I went back to Duke on Friday for PET scans, MRIs and blood work.
I found that I liked the staff in those clinics as well as I had my team of primary doctors. Everyone so far has been so organized, professional and encouraging at Duke. I like that combination!

I had a small reaction to the dye they used in the MRI. It was the first time anything like that had happened, so when I popped out of the machine and everyone in the room rushed up to me and exclaimed over the huge, witchy welt that formed on my chin, I was surprised.  They asked me if I had that welt when I had gone in the MRI, I was like, no, not unless I am Jessica Parker and I don't know it. But really, it was way bigger than Jessica Parker's wart. It was a big welt of a thing, and oh, was it itchy. (And witchy.)


So the next time I have a PET scan, I have to have it in the main part of the hospital where I am near the surgical suite just in case I have a reaction where I can't breathe or something even more serious. But I'm not gonna worry about that, either. They seem to be doing enough of that for me.

When I was done with the tests, Pat and I were free to go home. I tried to clear my head of everything and not let myself dwell on all the possible scenarios, i.e., inflammatory or metastatic breast cancer because honestly, I just didn't want to think too much about it until I absolutely had to.


And that turned out to be a smart thing to do.  About a week later, Dr. Kimmick called to give me the great news that my cancer was not either of the two forms she had been worried about. She still could not completely confirm it was ductal carcinoma as my pathology slides from CAMC had still not arrived (after a month and two weeks of requesting them), but that she felt confident in the treatment plan they were going to give me. The only new information not already provided by Dr. Georgiade was that I would be receiving Taxotere, Carboplatin and Herceptin as my chemo cocktail every 21 days. It would take about four and a half-hours to receive that during my first visit, and would be a little less time in the subsequent sessions. I would have my Neulasta shot the following day. So we'd have two nights in Durham. After six to eight sessions, I would be following up with Herceptin for the next year or more, once every 21 days.


I wrote down that Dr. Kimmick said that I had right lymph node involvement, but the radiologist I'd met with here at home (the one terrific doc I've had here in WV), Dr. Prem Raja, called to make sure that I understood all the results of the tests and assured me that I did not  have any lymph node involvement, but as I had been told, right lymph node dissection would be recommended due to the size of my tumors and the probability of microscopic (read: undetected) metastasis to them.


Well, this was just the best news I'd heard in a while. Dr. Kimmick's call had come while I was in the kitchen fixing dinner, Mom and Pat milling around talking and helping here and there. I took the call and left pots on the stove, hoping Mom would take care of things. 


When I came back into the kitchen, I tried to look serious, but I couldn't help it . . .

I broke out into the Snoopy Happy Dance.

Then Pat and I started dancing together:

Then Mom started dancing and singing, "Praise ye, the Lord, and we sang "Hallelujah!" just like the old hymn, ending with a big "Praise ye, the Lord!" Mom clapped her hands and Pat said, "Well, I think I'm about to tear up," and we all hugged and said how blessed we were. And we had a big, beautiful dinner of celebration and gave thanks for that, too.

Jewel flying around the room

 
It was a good day. Another day to be thankful. Another day that God did great things for us.

My Mendhi Melon

I am thinking today about the art of henna and mendhi and wondering if my head would look like the melon above if I decided to decorate it in such a way. I've always loved henna, thought it looked exotic and mysterious on the hands and feet, but never had such a broad expanse as my noggin to work with before.  I am going to have a few weeks to think about it, but I think I'll go for it!