The Forgotten Halloween

Taking a break today from writing about my oc journey, to write about my favorite holiday… Happy Halloween all!

Truly, one of my favorite holidays. I have always enjoyed the creativity of the costumes, wigs and make up, and of course all of the candy that Halloween brings. I have such fond memories of trick or treating around my neighborhood growing up. Baldwin Harbor was safe, and the streets were always filled with kids galore talking about which house to go to because they were giving out the best candy.  I remember wearing those plastic masks with an elastic band, and a funny face on it, along with a costume made out of some flammable polyester material, as we ran from house to house to collect our goodies. We also collected pennies back then in an orange box for Unicef. I don’t remember ever being escorted around by an adult though... Ahhh, the innocent days of childhood.

In high school, our innocence turned into adventure, and we had “bad boys night” the night before Halloween, and “bad girls night” the night after. This made for three nights of egg throwing, shaving cream fights and running around the neighborhood. We had no worries; it was all in good fun. Even in college, we had so much fun, creating costumes (see pic of tube of toothpaste a toothbrush - U of B 1981) and drinking beer! No egg throwing or shaving cream fights anymore, but Halloween meant fun, and fun it always was for me.

When I became a mom, I couldn’t wait to dress Evan up in costumes for Halloween! His first costume was a cow. He was the cutest little cow ever. I have a picture from then somewhere, when I find it, I will post it. His Nana and I took him to a few houses, with his little plastic pumpkin to hold his candy in. I think, well… I know, Nana and I had more fun than he did J.  A couple of years later his dad and I took him trick or treating around the old neighborhood that held such great memories for me. He was a fireman that year, and his boots were too big on him, but he didn’t care, he wanted to wear them… We got to a house on Bertha Drive, and the man answered the door with a really scary mask on (not funny), and Evan got so scared he screamed, then jumped into his dad’s arms. We felt so badly for the little guy, and the man apologized up and down, he felt awful. Then I looked down for a moment and there they were standing on their own, Evans boots. He got so scared; he jumped right out of them! I couldn’t help but laugh looking at those little boots just standing there with no feet in them!

When Evan was in the third grade, I had met Frank. With Frank came Brittany, which I considered a really great deal! Frank and I share many of the same interests, but the one that stands out the most is that we both love kids, so of course, we had to have a Halloween party for 40 kids plus! We had so much fun. I made a really cool creepy kind of cake (see pic), Frank barbequed; we had a costume contest, carving pumpkins table, tattoos, a pinata and a wish on a balloon send off. Evan and Britt were exhausted at the end of the party, a true sign of a good time.

Starting when we moved into our house 7 years ago, each year, on the first weekend of October, we would decorate for Halloween. I had accrued lots and lots of decorations over the years, so let’s just say, our front yard was full of scarecrows and witches, and funny ghosts, and pumpkins, and bales of hay. I always went for the fun theme as opposed to the scary, creepy type of theme.

This was the first year we didn’t decorate. It was more important to spend our one free weekend preparing for The Circle’s bowling event, to raise money for medical research for ovarian cancer while raising awareness, then to decorate for Halloween.  But, Halloween still came, and I enjoyed baking and decorating spider, mummy and ghoulish cupcakes for the high school bake sale. I really got a kick out of staying for the sale and seeing so many of the students and staff dress up. Some really creative costumes going on there! There was a frog on a lily pad, lots of kitty cats, and scary faces, but my favorites were two of Evan’s teacher’s who really went for bust. One dressed as Fay Wray from King Kong, and the other as an Angry Bird (see pic).

I was warmed today as I lived vicariously through their spirit for the holiday. Sometimes, it’s the little things in life that can really be very, very big. Life is so worth living.

From Hair Loss to Remission...

I realize as I am writing this blog, I have three years of life to write about to bring me to today, while I write about my current days… hummmm, this could be interesting! 

Losing my hair:  I was told my hair would fall out 2 weeks after my first treatment. During the interim, I asked  my daughter (Brittany) to cut my hair. She took about 8 inches off of my long curly blond locks. I figured it would make the hair loss process go much easier with shorter hair.  It was 2 weeks to the day, and as prepared as I thought I was for this process, I was still taken aback when I was in the shower and my hair was coming out in clumps. Clumps, and clumps of hair. I didn’t expect it all to fall out at once like that. I thought it would come out over several days. I called out to Frank to please bring me a garbage bag for it. My pillar of strength stayed with me, and there we were, I was standing in the shower pulling out clumps of hair and handing them to him to put in the bag. Then the tears started to well up in my eyes, and I cried quietly as my locks of golden blonde left my head.  

When I went to my hairdresser for him to shave the rest off, and set me up in my “new” wig, Frank stood by my side, and he said the cutest thing to me that day. He said; “you know how when couples grow old they start to look like each other?” I said; “yeah”, He said; “well look at us, we are doing it in four years!!”  At the time it was really sweet and so funny, even Lou (my hairdresser) was laughing… The reference here is that Frank shaves his head all of the time!

I hated that wig. I looked like Carol Brady, and it was hot and itchy. Baseball hats are much more suitable for me!

 In early March of 2009, after 3 chemo treatments I had my first CAT scan. It showed great progress. I was winning! Yes!! I knew I would do it! By the 5^th treatment my CA125 was about a 12. Dr. S. called me his golden star! One more treatment to go and I was done!

On a side note: The CA125 is a blood test which is a tumor marker for ovarian cancer. It is an indicator of the protein levels that the cancer is producing. It is used with oc patients after diagnosis to monitor the decrease/increase of the cancer. The number should be under 35. When I was diagnosed it was a 125, after surgery 52, and then downwards with each chemo treatment.

My last treatment was in April of 2009, and a CAT scan confirmed “NED” No Evidence of Disease. I was in remission! I did it!!! I won!!!  Brittany’s Sweet-16 was in May, she had a huge party which I bought a new wig for. It is auburn and straight with bangs, a very different look then I had before. We had a really great time at her party, the summer was peaceful, the fall brought Halloween, then Thanksgiving and the holidays! I was feeling great; I was in love with life, my family, my friends… Happy New Year y’all! Welcome to 2010!

And, so it began...

On November 25th, it will be 3 years to the day that I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. My life as I knew would change forever. One word. Two syllables. Cancer.

November 25, 2008 - NYU Hospital in New York City; Frank (my husband) drove me in for the 6:30 AM arrival.  I was more frightened of the anesthesia then what the outcome of the surgery could be. Giving someone else the driving wheel for my body, while I was not able to do anything about it, made me very uneasy. I would not be in control of me. Would I know I was being operated on? Would I feel it? What if I woke up?

After they had prepped me for what was supposed to be a laparoscopy to remove my right ovary, I kissed and said goodbye to Frank. As they led me into the operating room, I panicked. The room was so cold, and baron. I wanted to leave. I did not want to do this. No. I am not going to do this. I told the O.R. staff, I couldn’t go forward, and opened the door to leave. With their expertise and kind words, they comforted me, and eased me to the table. Once I laid down, they asked me where I would like to travel to? I said; "Aruba…" the next thing I knew, they were waking me up in the recovery room.

The laparoscopy turned into an 8 hour operation, where my amazing surgeon, Dr. P. removed both of my ovaries, fallopian tubes and my uterus. The quick pathology report on a biopsy sample taken during the surgery showed I had cancer. She then took the time to look all over my abdominal cavity to remove anything that looked “suspicious” to her. 8 LONG hours, while she operated, and Frank and my parents waited one hallway over, not knowing what was going on in that cold and baron room.

Waking up was difficult… They told me immediately I had cancer… and all I could say was… “my arms and hands are asleep, I can’t move them.” I was in and out, as they massaged my arms and hands… I then told the recovery nurse, “please go out to my husband and tell him to leave. He has to get up early for work.” I just didn’t want to hear it… cancer…

A few days later while I was recovering in the hospital, I realized, I now had a new title besides mom, wife, daughter, employee, friend and so on… I am now a “cancer patient.” At that time, I had no idea what that meant, but what I did know was, I was going to fight my ass off, and get rid of this disease. I was going to win; it stood no chance against my will to beat it. I just need to get my arms and hands to wake up. Then Rosa, my roommate from Russia farted. She was so embarrassed; I thought it was hilarious.  To this day, my middle finger on my right hand still tingles, everything else woke up.

Two weeks later… Frank, my parents and I met with my surgeon. I heard her say, “stage 3C ovarian cancer” and my mind and I went somewhere else…  Whoa… stage 3C?? That’s bad, right? That is really advanced. Holy shit.  But wait, I have kids, and have to be a wife. I can’t leave them now. I looked over at my dad and thought “he already buried one daughter, I can’t make him go through that again.” Ok, back to the room I am in…. “So? What’s the plan of action?” I asked? Chemo… 6 rounds, its protocol, and then we decide from there where to go.

Although, Dr. P. still remains my surgeon, Dr. S. took over my case, as he is my dad’s oncologist and the Director of all of Oncology at NYU. Same plan, just a different approach. I am blessed to have both doctors looking out for me. Two phenomenal doctors.  Two wonderful people.

December 30^th, 2008 – NYU Cancer Center – 5^th floor. My first Chemo treatment. Taxol and Carboplatin. Six hours of infusion. That was easy, let’s go to the cancer shop on the 4^th floor and shop for wigs! I knew I was going to lose my hair, and I was (and still am) cool with it. So let’s have fun. I can have straight hair now, any color and length I want! I can wear a bandana or a hat! Oh, this will be a blast! We didn't buy anything that day, but got some great ideas. About 36 hours later, as the New Year rang in, I felt as if I was hit by a truck. Everything hurt, as if I had the flu, and everything tasted really bad. Welcome to 2009.