...but I'm a Leo!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Ripping off the Band-aid
As bewildered as I've been by this whole hair loss/head shaving debacle, it's over. I decided a while ago that sharing this facet of my experience was particularly important. I wonder if I had stumbled across a similar blog posting a few months ago I would have dealt with it differently. Special thanks to Matt's crafty editing work and my fantastic stylist Courtney Engel's serious abilities with clippers. Although it's not featured in this particular video, her work with thinning shears is also incomparable.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Imerman's Angels Benefit
Imerman's Angels, a fantastic organization that pairs survivors with current patients for support, is hosting a benefit this Thursday. Provide your own support for this special program:
What: Imerman's Angels 4th Annual Spring Fling
When: Thursday, March 18, 7-11pm
Where: Enclave, 220 W. Chicago Ave., Chicago
Admission: $30 presale at www.imermanangels.org, $40 at the door
What: Imerman's Angels 4th Annual Spring Fling
When: Thursday, March 18, 7-11pm
Where: Enclave, 220 W. Chicago Ave., Chicago
Admission: $30 presale at www.imermanangels.org, $40 at the door
An Inspiring Story
This is sportswriter Rick Reilly's tales of spending time with Denver Nugget's coach and current cancer patient George Karl. His treatment sounds much more intense and invasive than mine, and I admire his open attitude and spirit. Thanks for sharing, Matt!
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/news/story?id=4997277
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/news/story?id=4997277
Monday, March 15, 2010
It's time for a sing-a-long!
Because I don't make good use of my time, this is what I did this morning. In true Weird Al form, I've created my own lyrics for Rocky theme "Eye of the Tiger." I dedicate it to the driver of the bright yellow bug. So follow this link and play it while perusing my lyrics.
"Survivor: Eye of the Hodgkin's"
By Anne Kasdorf
Walkin' out, onto McLean
Time to go get some chemo
Had pneumonia, now I'm back on my feet
Just an Anne and her will to survive.
Six cycles of, A-B-V-D
Will get those lymph nodes back to normal
We're off to Kellogg in the bright yellow bug
Just to rid cancer cells from my life!!!
It's the eye of the Hodgkin's
in my chest and stomach
but it never got into my lungs, yeah.
And the rate of survival's unbelievably high
So I'm gonna get rid of the eeeeeeyyyyyee.
Of the Hodgkin's.
I was sick, feelin' so tired
Now I'm tough, stayin' hungry (for ice cream)
I've got big lymph nodes, and my white count is low
Chemo Girl's got the skill to survive
It's the eye of the Hodgkin's
in my chest and stomach
but it never got into my lungs, yeah.
And the rate of survival's unbelievably high
So I'm gonna get rid of the eeeeeeyyyyyee.
Of the Hodgkin's.
Cortisone, straight to the vein
Lost some hair, not my dinner
Went through chemo, now I'm not gonna stop
Just an Anne and her will to survive
It's the eye of the Hodgkin's
in my chest and stomach
but it never got into my lungs, yeah.
And the rate of survival's unbelievably high
So I'm gonna get rid of the eeeeeeyyyyyee.
Of the Hodgkin's.
"Survivor: Eye of the Hodgkin's"
By Anne Kasdorf
Walkin' out, onto McLean
Time to go get some chemo
Had pneumonia, now I'm back on my feet
Just an Anne and her will to survive.
Six cycles of, A-B-V-D
Will get those lymph nodes back to normal
We're off to Kellogg in the bright yellow bug
Just to rid cancer cells from my life!!!
It's the eye of the Hodgkin's
in my chest and stomach
but it never got into my lungs, yeah.
And the rate of survival's unbelievably high
So I'm gonna get rid of the eeeeeeyyyyyee.
Of the Hodgkin's.
I was sick, feelin' so tired
Now I'm tough, stayin' hungry (for ice cream)
I've got big lymph nodes, and my white count is low
Chemo Girl's got the skill to survive
It's the eye of the Hodgkin's
in my chest and stomach
but it never got into my lungs, yeah.
And the rate of survival's unbelievably high
So I'm gonna get rid of the eeeeeeyyyyyee.
Of the Hodgkin's.
Cortisone, straight to the vein
Lost some hair, not my dinner
Went through chemo, now I'm not gonna stop
Just an Anne and her will to survive
It's the eye of the Hodgkin's
in my chest and stomach
but it never got into my lungs, yeah.
And the rate of survival's unbelievably high
So I'm gonna get rid of the eeeeeeyyyyyee.
Of the Hodgkin's.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!!!
Zephyr Dance, the modern dance company I have so proudly been a member of for FIVE SEASONS, is celebrating its 20th birthday. Check out our new channel on youTube: ZephyrDanceTV! The first "episode" promotes our online birthday card. In order to support our fabulous programming (exciting choreography, unparalleled arts education work...) we are hoping for 500 signatures throughout 2010. What can YOU do with $20? Find out here.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZEPHYR DANCE! I eat a cupcake in your honor.
Searchin' for my lost grande plié
As I gradually regain proper use of my dance technique, I'm still missing one key component: my grande plié.
Now, a brief but worthwhile digression for my non-dance readers:
(Translated: a fancy squat and return to standing sans grunt)
My muscle memory has actually been pretty miraculous throughout this process. Considering that at Christmas I could barely climb steps, I'm relieved to have rediscovered my feet, spine and
(speaking of miracles) abdominals. And yet, if I attempt this full, pliable bending, I'm not getting up. Maybe Jimmy Buffett knows where I put my plié...
Now, a brief but worthwhile digression for my non-dance readers:
According to Gail Grant, (Webster of the ballet world) a grande plié is a full bending of the knees; an exercise to render the joints soft and pliable and the tendons flexible and elastic, and to develop a sense of balance.
(Translated: a fancy squat and return to standing sans grunt)
My muscle memory has actually been pretty miraculous throughout this process. Considering that at Christmas I could barely climb steps, I'm relieved to have rediscovered my feet, spine and
(speaking of miracles) abdominals. And yet, if I attempt this full, pliable bending, I'm not getting up. Maybe Jimmy Buffett knows where I put my plié...
Sunday, March 7, 2010
strand by strand by strand
Ever since I learned of my treatment options I've attempted to brazenly and casually mask any insecurities I have about losing my hair. Even as I write this, I feel the need to select my words so carefully as to sound poetic and insightful and NOT UNGRATEFUL that I'm getting better. I'm really struggling to admit how preoccupied I am by this inevitable disappearance. It shouldn't be a big deal. It shouldn't. I made it clear that I planned to shave my head as soon as the shedding got excessive. Or as long as I made it past various events, then I'd do it. Or my hair didn't look "so" thin (a constantly relative term). Excuses, excuses.
I've had almost three months to watch the strand by strand dispersal of my hair. But yesterday I found myself putting down a deposit. A deposit to a guy named Jerome who swears you'll never see anyone wearing his hairpieces. At least that's their motto.
I think my discomfort lies in that a bald head or fake hair automatically seems to tattoo "Cancer Patient" across my forehead. Enter fear, sympathy, pity. Bleh. I'm really trying to articulate this in a tactful way, but maybe there isn't. Whine.
I've had almost three months to watch the strand by strand dispersal of my hair. But yesterday I found myself putting down a deposit. A deposit to a guy named Jerome who swears you'll never see anyone wearing his hairpieces. At least that's their motto.
I think my discomfort lies in that a bald head or fake hair automatically seems to tattoo "Cancer Patient" across my forehead. Enter fear, sympathy, pity. Bleh. I'm really trying to articulate this in a tactful way, but maybe there isn't. Whine.
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