The Glad Game

I think I discovered the secret to being happy. I haven't worked out all the kinks yet, but really, I think I'm on the way there.

The only stupid part is that PollyAnna figured it out before me. She had the Glad game all set and going before I was even born.

I realized over time that as long as I keep looking for things to be thankful for, I will always feel lucky and happy and special.

When I was in high school my friend Miri and I would play the Kvetch Game. We would take turns kvetching to each other about our lives and the only rule was that we couldn't repeat any of the kvetches.

We used to laugh at how long we were able to keep going, like it was cool how much we had to complain about.

Looking back I think of the stuff we used to kvetch about and I laugh and cringe at the same time. This was before the days that I had cancer and before anything really momumental ever happened to any of us. We had such easy lives compared to so many other people we know and even knew then, but still, we let ourselves wallow in our miseries by turning it into a game.

No wonder we were such attitude ridden kids.

But when I got sick a lot changed.

One of the big things that changed for me was the kvetch game. Miri wouldn't play it with me anymore because I would always win. So I offered to change it, but still she wouldn't play.

Instead, I developed a small ritual. Every night, no matter what time I pulled myself into bed, I said Shema and played the Glad Game. I listed three things I was grateful for. I sorted out my day in my mind, thought about tomorrow, and thanked Hashem for at least three things.

They could have been anything. I could have been thanking for getting the small needle instead of the big one or for getting a blood transfusion or for even making me go down another skirt size.

It didn't matter, as long as I went to sleep feeling thankful for something.

Today people ask me all the time what was the secret to my being so upbeat when things seemed so bad. It's hard to give a real answer because I'm not a special person or anything who can see Hashem's plan in all of this and know that no matter what it all turns out for the best.

For me it was just being thankful. I guess that as long as I went to sleep each night knowing that I had something going for me, how could I wake up really miserablt and upset in the morning?

To give credit where credit is due, I didn't even learn this from PollyAnna. I got this from my 6th grade teacher.

It was the first day of school and she told us all to open our Chumashim to whatever page and hers happened to fall open to the exact page as soon as she turned the cover.

She smiled and said out loud "Thank you Hashem!" and we, being 6th graders, of course, laughed.

She looked at us all in sincerity and asked why we were laughing. Hashem just did her a favor- he spared her from turning pages and making her look flustered in front of us on the first day of class.

Most of us laughed and thought she was a little weird, but for some reason that moment popped into my mind sometime during my illness. I started figuring that she was right. We complain to G-d all the time, but when do we ever tell Him that we are happy? Doesn't he deserve to hear that too?

So later on, when I started this little ritual all to myself late at night, half asleep, it made perfect sense to me, even if I wouldn't neccessarily say it out loud like my teacher did.

And I really think that this is the true way of finding happiness. Being thankful for everything. No one says we can't kvetch too, but I think we have to remember to give thanks along with the list of complaints.

Life is what we make it out to be. We get to choose the way we want to see the world. The unfortunate part is that most people just expect the world to see them a certain way, when really they should be the ones adjusting the tint on their glasses.

The world aint gonna change for you if you won't even change for yourself.

So let's make a change.

I dare everyone who reads this to be happy for three things every night. I DARE you.

To start you off, this is what I was thankful for last night:
1. My KA"H cutie son who was sleeping in the next room.
2. My husband who was snoring in the next bed.
3. The extra chocolate cake in the fridge that I couldn't wait to eat for breakfast.

Your turn!

The fun of Being Me!

Sorry for neglecting the blog recently, but you know how it is... Writer's block I guess....

Well, here's a long overdue post:

I was out with my son the other day and I called him JB. This lady stopped and looked over at me and asked me what I just called my son. I told her I called him JB cos those were his initials.

She asked if my last name was Caton and I looked all confused and told her it wasn't.

She looked so disappointed and walked away.

I guess she didn't know I wrote under a pen name LOL.

That's my fun anecdote.

More later!

G'mar Chasima Tova everyone!

In My Shoes

Black with a buckle, a dull leather shine
Comfortable tread, these shoes that are mine
Soles worn at the heels, rubbed out at the toes
With me so long, wherever I go

They click as I walk, running, they slide
In bad moods they carry me in good ones they glide
Black with a buckle, pair that I choose
Wear them a while, do a mile in my shoes.

They know my imprint, recognize my shape
Arch lends support on those days not so great
Instep just right, room still to grow
Step after step, with me they go.

Walking the pebbles, the dirt, and the path
Molding to me faithfully, whatever I ask
I shine and polish to keep them like new,
For only they know what it is I go through.

Do you know how it feels, size six and a half?
To be in my shoes when I cry and I laugh?
Each scuff on the toe, the story of all
Every time I trip, each time that I fall

The mileage on this pair has taken me far
Only your shoes can take you where you are.
But if you really want to know me, take a little time
Take off your worn loafers, and walk a mile in mine.

Reflections, a Letter/Song

REFLECTIONS

Dear World,

I'm just a reflection of what you want to see.
I'm a mirror- I show you an image but not the real me.
Your facial expressions, I copy your actions,
Whatever you do, I am the reaction.

Those labels you give me you think you're perceptive,
But let me tell you, I can be deceptive.
Before you define me as something not quite norm,
Believe that I reflect what you exude on my form.

CHORUS:

I can appear changed in someone else’s eyes,
And what different people see may come as a surprise.
You want to see anger, confusion, and despair?
I keep in mind it’s not me, and I try not to care.

You ask why I keep you guessing and why I don’t just tell
But like a mirror I’m a myth that you need to dispel.
You say mirrors are fickle, they can distort and lie
But mirrors don’t talk, and neither do I

You can keep staring, define me with your gaze.
But you won't get to know me till you travel my maze,
Most people are content to judge but not try,
They are fine with my image staring them in the eye.

How can you be sure when you don't really know?
My personality is within me, outside it won't show.
So when you walked away with whatever you knew,
Know now it's not me, but a reflection of you.

CHORUS:

I can appear changed in someone else’s eyes,
And what different people see may come as a surprise.
You want to see anger, confusion, and despair?
I keep in mind it’s not me, and I try not to care.

You ask why I keep you guessing and why I don’t just tell
But like a mirror I’m a myth that you need to dispel.
You say mirrors are fickle, they can distort and lie
But mirrors don’t talk, and neither do I

But if you had tried to come with an open heart,
I should tell you that I'd also echo that part,
I am a mirror; I reflect what you do,
Extend your friendship and I'll give you mine too.

Stop talking and scheming, for once just don't plan,
Forget my image and get to know who I am.
But who ever looks beyond imperfection?
Until someone does I remain,
Your Reflection.

CHORUS:

I can appear changed in someone else’s eyes,
And what different people see may come as a surprise.
You want to see anger, confusion, and despair?
I keep in mind it’s not me, and I try not to care.

You ask why I keep you guessing and why I don’t just tell
But like a mirror I’m a myth that you need to dispel.
You say mirrors are fickle they play with your mind,
Mirrors don’t talk, but I could try.

Moved in! And Wondering...

You know what I find weird?

Well, lots of things.

But you know what struck me over the last couple of weeks as being strange?

How is it that some people face tremendous challenges with the powerful faith and strength that leave us all speechless, but then can break down when the hairdryer goes bust?

Over the last few months all I've been hearing is feedback about the book. I've heard it all- the good, the bad, the ugly. There are the people who think it's too sad, some that think it's too upbeat, and some that think it's just right.

But what I think everyone agrees with is that the route I took when I was ill was the best one for me. Maybe not for anyone else, but for me, yes.

And another thing most people like to embarrass me with is the part about me being soooo strong and blah di blah and how I had such amazing faith and blah more blah. I say blah, not because it's not nice to hear this, but because there is nothing to answer and because I know from where I get my strength and bitachon. I had lots of people helping me along the way and it was mostly them, not me, getting me through everything.

But ANYWAY. The point is, that whatever the case may be, I've been through the runaround. And not to brag or anything, but I would like to think I came out reasonably stable and okay from everything I have been through.

So what I couldn't wrap my head around last week was why after everything so far, what caused me to really break down in tears, and I mean really wracking, sobbing, cry your heart out tears, was when the locksmith I was using installed a broken buzzer into my new home and then wanted to charge me $200 to have it replaced- five days after he installed it when it never worked to begin with. When I insisted that it had never worked he got all huffy, called me a liar, took his tools and drove away without even saying good-bye or working it out.

And so I sat down on the stairs and bawled. So much so that my son came over to give me a kiss and his pacifier.

Of course, this is kind of a stupid embarrassing story to put on a blog, but I wonder- it seems so weird to me. I've seen this happen to other people and always thought it strange but now it happened to me too.

What makes us weird weird people tick? I wonder.

Anywho! I'm back!!! Any readers still around?

Not in Hibernation...

To answer a commenter's question, I am not in hibernation, don't worry.

I am though in the middle of moving and getting settled into a new place where the internet isn't working yet (neither is the hot water or stove...) but should be up and running within the week.

So bear with me till then!

Hope everyone is fasting well, I'm already counting down until I can have a J&J cappucino...

Amy's Army

I recieved an email asking for help in finding a stem cell transplant for a young girl named Amy. This is not one of those dumb pranks that you get in your emails where they say that Google will donate 5 cents for every person that reads this sob story. Those, by the way, are all fake. Google and Yahoo and Aol and whatever can NOT track who you are sending your emails to and they are not interested. Before you pass on those dumb annoying inbox-cluttering emails, please verify them. You can just go onto Google and search the name of the "sick girl" or the "doctor" and a bunch of sites will come up and tell you that this stuff is all nonesense.



Back to Amy. Amy Katz was diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia (CML) in 2003. She volunteered to participate in a worldwide study for Gleevac in order to “help other kids..” But, while the drug allows her to lead a somewhat normal life, the only known cure for CML is a stem cell transplant. Although Amy’s whole family has been tested, none of them are a match (although ironically, her two sisters are perfect matches for each other.)

Amy’s Army was founded by friends and family soon after learning about Amy’s diagnosis. They held their first marrow drive in 2004 and had a turnout of over 1,620 people! The second drive drew 500 people in the midst of a Pittsburgh snowstorm! Although the many marrow drives that have been hosted by Amy’s Army have found 22 other donor matches for other patients, none has yet been found for Amy.

The most likely matches for Amy are Jews of Eastern European descent. The Pittsburgh Jewish community has been enthusiastic in their support of the cause, but we are now trying to expand by encouraging national Jewish organizations to host donor drives. Amy’s Army has already hosted donor drives in 12 states and is hoping to increase this number.

Amy’s Army has received a lot of local press coverage. If you are interested in reading the articles you can find them on the website at: http://www.amysarmy.org/press.htm.

For more information you can also visit: www.amysarmy.org.

If people are unable to attend a specific Amy’s Army donor drive, they are still encouraged to register and provide the donor bank with Amy’s CBB tracking number, #Z0020553.

This is as much as I can really write here because most of what anyone needs to know is on her website. If people reading this could maybe forward her website to others, maybe someone who is interested in donating will get to read it and we can make something happen for a girl who needs it.

Tizku L'mitzvos!

Whirpools and Maytags and Kids! Oh My!

I recently found my son and great nephew hanging out together in my sister-in-law's dryer. The laundry had just been taken out and since her hands were full, my sister in law left to put the laundry basket down before coming back to close the dryer door. Of course, by that time, her grandson and my tzaddik were already making themselves at home inside.

After the initial freak out stage, we grabbed our cameras and saved the moment for posterity. It was all very cute.

And then I went to buy a dryer for myself. I wanted a similar one to what my sister in law has and went into the appliance store to check out the features and decide between similar models.

The sales rep there showed us around and when he overheard me fielding a call from my sister (babysitting my munchkin) he said that this specific dryer that we were looking at was great for kids.

Now I don't know about you, but all that comes to mind when I hear "dryer" in the same sentence as "kids" is "IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF MY DRYER RIGHT THIS SECOND I WILL DO A LOAD WITH YOU IN IT!!!!"

Remember the days of hide and seek?

Well I couldn't imagine that this is what the rep meant, and so I asked.

"Oh," he said happily, "this is the best model for playing hide and go seek in!"

I think I did a double take.

"You see, this was specially built to withstand up to 50lbs of a child's weight so that if yours chose to hide in there it would not break. It even has an easy close from the inside and an air vent so that he can breathe..."

My husband did the double take then.

"Oh yes, and here is a sensor that can feel if there is a child or a pet in the machine and it won't let you do a load if it isn't all right. It will make you check first and open the door before letting you dry the clothes."

Yippee do dah. So because parents were lazy and tired of screaming their kids out of the laundry room all the time, the companies just caved and adapted for hide and go seek.

Not only do they sell this as a safety feature- the fact that it's kid friendly is a selling point for these machines! Wow. Times have changed.

I can't help but get annoyed at the companies- yeah, I know its a safety issue and all and I'm going to buy the machine anyway and take pictures of my son in it whenever he climbs in, but why does our society bend so much to give in to laziness and childish antics?

I see it everywhere these days. I can't complain because I am a part of it all, but I can't help thinking that it's ruining us in a way. When I was growing up there was no such thing as every single kid haveing all the same toys as everyone else in the class and the same $100 backpack and the mandatory iPod for the bas mitzvah present.
What are we subconsciously teaching our next generation? That they deserve it all? That we have to cater to their inability to think for themselves and play by their own rules? We have to make our dryers child proof and give them all permission to play in them?

I know this is kind of taking it out of context, but after spending a few years in the classroom and watching my siblings grow up and thinking about how I'm going to raise my kids and buying new dryers that are rasing my kids for me... It just gets me thinking...

Hashem Set that up Years Ago!

In a United States convention of neurologists from all over the world, one of the main topics was the phenomenon of people fainting upon getting up from bed.

One of the speakers was Professor Linda McMaron of Great Britain and she gave a lengthy speech regarding her study on this issue. She elaborated that after many years of study and investigation on this subject, she came to the conclusion that the fainting is caused by the sharp transfer between laying down and standing up.

Professor McMaron said that it takes 12 seconds for the blood to flow from the feet to the brain. But when a person quickly stands up upon waking up, the blood gets 'thrown' to the brain too quickly and the result is fainting. She suggested that each person, even one that does not have a tendency to faint, upon waking up should sit on the bed, and count slowly till 12 to avoid dizziness, weakness, and/or fainting.

Her speech was rewarded with loud applause and enthusiastic feedbacks.

Another Professor, a Jewish religious man, asked permission to speak.

He said: "By us, the Jews, there is an old tradition, thousands of years old, to say a prayer of thanks to the Creator of the World for meriting us to wake up healthy and whole. The prayer is said immediately upon waking up, while one is still on the bed and sitting down. There are 12 words in this prayer and if one regulates himself to say it slowly with concentration, it takes exactly 12 seconds to says it... 12 words in 12 seconds.

He said the prayer slowly in Hebrew:
Mode Ani Lefanecha Melech Chai VeKayam, Shehechezarta Bi Nishmati Bechemla Raba Emunatecha
“I thank Thee, O living and eternal King, because Thou hast graciously restored my soul to me; great is Thy faithfulness.”

The auditorium burst into a standing applause that roared throughout the auditorium. This time, it was for the Creator of the World.

Now Eye Know

On the first day of school in third grade two of my best friends came in wearing glasses. I decided then that I needed glasses too. Of course, even with excessive squinting and horribly misreading signs, my mother wasn't convinced that I needed a prescription.

So I began to read in the dark, stopped eating carrots, and did whatever I could to ruin my eyesight enough to need glasses.

I finally got them the day before school started in sixth grade.

I have hated them ever since.

Almost as soon as I got my first pair of frames they were out of style. Because my insurance didn't cover them, I couldn't get new ones until they broke in the summer before eighth grade. When I got new ones I decided they were dead ugly and when I lost them a month later my mother thought it was done on purpose. I walked around half blind for almost a year until my mother was finally convinced that I really didn't know where my glasses were.

My memories of eighth grade all have a blurry quality... as if I was walking through that year not really seeing what was going on around me...

Of course I found those ugly glasses (Pesach cleaning) the week before my appointment with the eye doctor and when I showed them to my mother she finally agreed that they were as ugly as I insisted they were.

And then I finally got contact lenses!!! For the next six years no one even knew I had ugly glasses because they never saw me in them.

And then I had chemo and I had to stop wearing my lenses because my eyes were sensitive to them. I started a search to find special lenses that my eyes could deal with and finally ended up wearing Acuvue2 like everyone else in the world.

And then I had my baby and after many many many sleepless nights my eyes just wouldn't cooperate with my percious contacts on a day to day basis. And so I went out and bought a new pair of cool frames.

Of course, walking into class this past September, I found that I was wearing the same pair of cool frames as half of my students.

Luckily, JB began sleeping through the night right about then and it was back to my lenses most of the time.

But then I noticed I had a problem seeing certain things. I saw everything around me just fine but for some reason couldn't read street signs until they were right above me. I missed way too many turns on Ocean Parkway before I realized I should check it out.

Mind you, I was determined to check this out almost a year ago, but just got around to it now...

My oncologist told me to check out the possibility of cataracts because it was a side effect of one of the chemos. My father had just finished cataract surgery that week even though he was still too young to have them, and I decided right then that I must also have cataracts.

My eye doctor checked my eyes and found nothing wrong with me and so I made an appointment with an Opthamologist. I was getting all excited thinking about how I was going to have cataract surgery and then never need to wear glasses again.

I reminisced about the times I read with a flashlight under the covers and squinted on purpose and promised that if my kids ever asked for glasses I'd give them a pair of empty frames like my grandmother wears just to look good so that they shouldn't have to ruin their eyesight for it. That way when they decide they're as sick of glasses as I am they can forget about them and never have to live with the curse of a real prescription.

I was getting all emotional about getting my vision back and starting over when I booked my appointment.

I had my appointment last week. The doctor looked at my eyes and said that even though I had a white cloudy spot in one of them it meant nothing much and he wasn't going to touch it now.

When I asked him what I could do to correct whatever was wrong with my vision he laughed and said I should find a new doctor because my other one didn't know what he was talking about. Within five minutes he had me written up for a newer higher prescription and I walked home from his office wearing those huge offensive ugly sunglasses feeling like an idiot.

Hypochondriac that I am, and all I need is yet another new pair of glasses.

So I'm off to fix my prescription (which did I mention hasn't been updated in 5 years?) and I hope this will be the last episode in the saga of my eye wear until I'm ready to do Lasik...

Practice Makes Progress

Not the type of thing that's really related to the blog, but the newest poem off my press and couldn't wait to share!

My pencil pressed hard on that paper with lines,
As I practiced my script in a writing so fine.
My teacher gave stars to the work that was best,
“Practice makes perfect” she said to the rest.

My little tongue poked out as I rounded a letter.
Knowing this time it was sure to be better.
I waited for approval as teacher checked my swirls,
And finally got a sticker like the other girls.

But even with the shiny star I got at the end,
I knew my script couldn’t compare to that of my friend.
I really tried my best and I knew that I did good,
But others always seemed to do better than I could.

All through the years perfection was the dream
And I practiced all the time so I could see what it would mean
But somehow even when I pulled out all the stops,
Perfection was out of reach- somewhere at the top.

It got me down as I grew to understand
That I was never going to attain the goal I had at hand.
Perfection was unreachable, it got me really blue.
“Practice makes perfect” just didn’t ring true.

And then one day it hit me, it was sparkling clear,
Perfection wasn’t the reason that I was put down here.
If Hashem wanted perfect he wouldn’t have created me,
He just wanted the best- the best that I could be.

It didn’t stop my practicing; I just set different heights,
And I didn’t want perfection to ever cloud my sight.
Now my dreams of perfect; I dismissed ‘em,
“Practice make progress” was what I put into my system

No one here is perfect, it’s an unattainable score
But we can progress in life and grow a little more.
Life is all about changing, learning, and growing,
And those that think “perfect” are not all- knowing.

I think we can never stop learning and practicing to fly,
Because we are only here as long as we try.
We exist to work on and better our souls,
Progress, not perfect is the name of our goal.

Today when I see my kids keeping up with demands,
I take their little chins and lift them in my hands.
And tell them “Practice makes progress” that’s all you need to know,
Hashem is very happy just to see you grow!

Fair's Fair

This poem was sent to me by a 12 year old girl who goes by the name TaliHotTamale. I thought it was beautiful and wanted to share it with everyone. The nicest part about having this blog and the book is getting feedback and learning how awesome other people can be.

Teacher said that life ain't fair,
Mommy said so too.
But what I’d really like to know, what I wonder is if it’s really true.
If you get a cookie instead of me, do I have right to cry and say,
Life ain't fair?
If I fall down out of carelessness do I have right to scream and say,
Life ain't fair?
If you are funnier, smarter, or nicer than me do I have right to whine and say,
Life ain't fair?
If I get sick one day instead of you does that give me the right to groan that,
Life ain't fair?
For the King of all Kings sits on His throne on judgment day and looks down in His book
And if He thinks you should be He’ll let you off the hook.
But if that’s not the case and we don’t deserve to swim away,
Do we have the right to go and cry and then complain?
For our Father in Heaven only does what’s best, and never Judges unfairly while he throws at us those tests.
So are Mommy, teacher, and the rest right to say that life ain't fair?
I don’t think so.
In my eyes there couldn't be anything fairer.

To Teachers

This song was sent to me by Freeda Goldman. She wrote it for a teacher who helped her through a hard time.

(to:shema [shwekey])

I leave the classroom, "thanks goodbye",
see the worry in your eyes
you can't approach,
is there what to say..
with a heart locked up in a wall of stone
to cover up the stress at home
here I sit in your class each day..

In the shadows, I sit in back
Life's confusing
So much looks black
Yet some people linger
They show me a kind face
Help me out, wrap me in an embrace....

(chorus) you watch,
don't know what to do...
know that I also
am confused too
I long to learn, to participate,
just know that it's not your class I hate
Teacher it's all right,
It's not about you

I wait for these times to pass
So I can reapply myself to the tasks
Of a normal student with a normal home...
I travel far in my mind
To find a place where all is kind
Perhaps there I won't feel so alone

My heart will warm,
And melt the cold
"all is well" I'll finally be told
"Hashem above" I cry out
"Please help me get through
Only You can help me, only You"

(chorus) you watch,
don't know what to do...
know that I also
am confused too
I long to learn, to participate,
just know that it's not your class I hate
Teacher, it's all right,
It's not about you

So from afar, you watch me
This is the way, it has to be
but don't worry,
I know you're there
It means a lot for me to know
You care about me and so
Please overlook my behavior and blank stares

My heart will warm,
And melt the cold
"all is well" I'll finally be told
Teacher, please understand,
I feel torn in two
I can't but want, to listen to you....

(chorus)you watch,
don't know what to do...
know that I also
am confused too
I long to learn, to participate,
just know that it's not your class I hate
Teacher it's all right,
It's not about you

First Aid for Men

Dedicated to my dear husband who makes sure I take my vitamins but will never swallow a Tylenol.

When it comes to boo-boos, every man thinks he’s real tough,
“First Aid? Pshaw! That’s just baby stuff!”
A man may be feeling deathly sick and ill,
But you’ll never see a “real man” taking any pills!

Hallmark cards are silly; men don’t read ‘em,
And doctors?Ha! Who needs them?
‘Cos every man is just like you,
Thinks he’s Bob the Builder too!

You’d think men run on batteries the way they keep on going,
And pain? They’ll do everything to keep us from knowing!
And it’s only when they feel like being really nice,
That they’ll “do you a favor” and use some ice.

See, when they are hurt they don’t need no help.
They can find their own way to the “fix it” shelf.
They don’t see why stitches should do the trick,
When Crazy Glue can also make a cut stick.

Between paper clips, rubber bands, and colorful tacks,
Men have their own way of getting on track.
Hammers and screwdrivers, nails, and glue,
They accomplish everything a doctor can do!

“Don’t worry,” “I’m fine,” and “It’s really okay”
Are typical phrases you’ll hear them say.
‘Cos they’re sure they can fix anything, after all, in the end,
There’s a reason why Duct Tape is a man’s best friend!

Don't Judge Me (please)

You talk down to my heart, my pride,
You challenge my journeys and my ride
You put down my success and joy,
All for your own selfish ploys.

You think you have a right to judge me,
Just because you can’t begrudge me,
The happiness I stand to gain,
While you’re still riding on your train.

You think you have a right to this,
To smack down my smiles and bliss,
You say you know me but you don’t,
You only see me through what I wrote.

You haven’t been through thick and thin,
You have no idea what shape I’m in,
You weren’t with me through the sludge,
I don’t think you have a right to judge.

Say what you will, I can’t care now,
I know I’m here and I know how,
You had nothing to do with who I am,
And so I’ll ignore what you say as you talk to the hand.

I know it’s not over; you’re not the only one,
There’ll be many more of this until it’s done,
But for right now I am not ready to budge,
Say what you will, but please don’t judge.

It might be jealousy; it might be for real,
But scars you cause are hard to heal,
Who are you to shout out loud?
What have you done that makes you proud?

When you stand with and hold my hand
Then if you want to judge I’ll understand,
But until I say you have an in,
I only answer to myself and Him.

What's Within

"What lies before us and what is behind are tiny compared to what is within us."

Today I went back to Hackensack for a routine checkup. I go back about twice a year and usually to a different "post cancer" office building. Today it just so happened that my appointment was back at the clinic where I took chemo almost five years ago.

I haven't been inside the clinic in at least two and a half years and it was really strange to be back there again. It felt so familiar, like my second home, but then it felt like I was an outsider now. I didn't recognize a single patient there. All the ones I knew have finished up and are out of there a long time already.

The doctors and nurses were busy tickling and entertaining JB who was there for the first time, and I was signing copies of my book that I had brought along to give out.

I felt a little out of place talking about my book in a room full of kids who were so sick and seemed to have it so much worse than I did back then, but then the phrase at the start of this post caught my eye.

It was framed on the wall above the secretary's desk and I thought it was so beautiful. It made me feel so at peace with my illness and how long or short or hard or easy it may have been compared to others.

I realized it's not about comparing. Hashem doesn't compare. He gives us all different lives to lead, and different strengths to deal with our different struggles. Hashem doesn't look at us and compare our nisyonos with others', He knows what He has given each of us and expects us to use what He gave us to live with it.

He won't ask me after 120 why I didn't deal with my illness the way Leah'le did, or why I wrote a book about it when Michal kept quiet. All He will want to know was if I used the tools he supplied me with in the best possible way that I could.

He won't ask me about the details in my life, He will already know them as He is the one who maps out those details. He will only want to hear about what was within me. What I used from my own resources to navigate the road he chose to be my path in life.

So when I left my hospital today after a short checkup and a long visit, I left reassured that no matter who may compare me and judge me and criticize, the only two answers I need to give are to Hashem and to myself.

I am growing and learning and changing every day and there is no possible way for me to answer something now that will have to last for eternity, but I can say that I am happy with where I stand right now.

I didn't write this book for me, I wrote it for others. I know what role cancer has held in my life and now I hope that others can take hope and inspiration from my story, whether they like the book or not.

My book comes from that which is within me- my writing was a tool that G-d gave me to use in my personal life struggles and I know that people can say all they want about where I have come from and how far I have gone, but no one can judge me about what is within. That is between me and my creator.

I'm proud that I was able to work my outside experiences into something I was able to internalize. It doesn't matter to me anymore that my illness was maybe a little shorter than someone else's or that my story had a nice ending, what matters is how I dealt with it. I took a look within today, and I guess you can say I like what I saw.

And now I just took a look in the mirror and discovered that my head is once again bloated.

Looks Like we Made It!

Now I'm starting to feel like this is all real.

I got an email to my inbox from Aish.com and it was a link to their new articles this week, Guess what was headlining??? Mine!!

I was asked to write an article for them and so I did and Gavriel Sanders polished it a little (okay, a lot) for me and today it hit the site! I'm so exctied.

Plus, my mother woke me up this morning to tell me that my book was listed as number one seller of the month in the Country Yossi magazine.

Talk about dreams come true!!

*Hugging myself with joy with right hand, left hand is trying to squeeze my head into before-ego size...- hands too tied up to write more!*

Doctors don't know Everything

Doctors think they know everything. I used to think so too.

If the doctor told me to drink toilet water and smear toothpaste on my hair because it would help my vocal chords, I would listen blindly. I used to think that if the doctor went through x amount of years in medical school and made it here, it must be that he knew what he was talking about.

Of course, that was before I found out that they were passing by using Google and then getting drunk every night in the local bar...

Then I started seeing things happen that the doctors themselves couldn't explain. Kids who lived through "fatal" tumors, and kids who died from
"minor surgery."

I proved my heart could withstand pregnancy after chemo without a single drop in performance, and that my lungs went through each round of chemo without losing even a decimal of its former ability.

Kids like me were told the facts before we even started and some of us went and turned those facts into myths, right in front of our doctors' eyes.

I feel like slapping the kid who called me up crying that she only had a 90% chance of ever having kids- the same chance as almost anyone who never went through chemo anyway, and feel like bursting her eardrums with the stories of patients I knew who shocked the world with a baby after being declared 95% infertile.

I would never go to a doctor who said he didn't know anything, but then again, I would never go to a doctor who claimed to know everything. My doctor always impressed on me that he was Hashem's shaliach and that he was obligated to tell me what it said in the textbooks, but that he knew that nothing had to be true if Hashem didn't want it to be.

I still think doctors know a lot, but now I know they don't know everything. (Especially after the toothpaste and toilet water regimen...and yes I'm joking about that one! *rolls eyes*)

***Just as an addition, I was at the doctor for a random checkup today (a few days after the original post) and I had a funny rash he wasn't sure what to do with. My husband suggested a cream he had used on a similar rash. The doctor had never heard of this medication and so right in front of us he took out his blackberry and Googled it. He found out what the cream was made of and found that it would serve my rash very well indeed. I was so impressed that he listened to my husband's suggestion when he could have easily insisted that he was the doctor and that he knew what he was talking about...***

The Deal With My Name

Okay, here's the post you all deserve.

What's the deal with my pen name?

Well.... Long story, let's start at the top.

To begin with this was an anonymous blog just because I was trying to protect my family and the names of all the people I associated with at the time of my illness. I had to respect everyone's privacy, and even though my story was very recognizable to those people who know me, I had to keep it on the low for those that didn't.

I also wanted to keep it identity free because of all the readers who were reading this while trying to keep their illness a secret. For them, seeing that someone they might have known wrote this blog might make them afraid of reading it. I once had a reader email me to the blog addy and beg me not to tell anyone that she had read my blog. She thought I could tell who visited my site just by running it. She emailed me in a panic when she realized who I was and begged me not to tell anyone we knew. I know it sounds weird, but there are people out there who honestly know nothing about computers... and about how keeping cancer a secret (doesn't) work.

And then the idea came up for making this into a book. I was all for it, but I didn't want my name on it for a few reasons. One, I didn't want my students coming into class next year and on the first day waving the book in my face and asking if I was the bald kid who sassed her teachers.

Second- I didn't want to walk into a shop, hand over my credit card and have my name recognized. I can only imagine buying some clothing for my JB and having the salesclerk lean over and say "OMG EVERYONE!!! THIS IS JB!!! HE'S THE BOY WHO WAS BORN AFTER CANCER!!! THE ONE WHO LIVED AFTER HIS MOTHER FACED "THE DISEASE THAT MUST NOT BE NAMED!! LET'S RAKE OUR EYES OVER HIS FOREHEAD AND SEE IF WE CAN SPOT HIS LIGHTENING SHAPED SCAR!!" Yeah, I don't think so.

I also didn't feel right having my name on the cover of a book. I like attention, but I know when it becomes an ayin hara. It's one thing if I had written a fiction novel, it's another when the book is about my true life story and fairy tale ending for all to yenta about.

And then my book became more than a book. It's becoming a movement. People are asking me to speak all over the place and obviously, that means I'm not just Tzipi Caton, I have a real identity too.

I still chose to stick with Tzipi- (well by that time the book was already in print and I had no choice) but I had another reason for doing so. I have no problem getting on stage and introducing myself with my real name- and then explaining why I have a pen name.

This is why.

As much humor as there is throughout my book, cancer is a big deal. A scary, terrifying, nightmare of a thing to go through. I did it. I went through it, wrote a book on it, and hopefully gave and will continue to give a lot of chizuk with my story. Veni, Vidi, Vici.

But the fact remains that it is a very hard thing to live with every day. My trademark phrase is "That was then. I am now." Let the world associate the name Tzipi Caton with the kid who laughed through cancer. My name should not be stuck to that part of my past all the time- I want my name to just be me. The ME who is living life today, happy and healthy.

I always say that cancer has changed who I am as a person but has not defined me. I know that very clearly, but it's hard for others understand. I don't want to give them the permission to label me forever as that cancer person. I was, and I still have times that I am, but as a general rule, my life today does not scream "I WAS ONCE SICK!"

Even now that my book is out and some people have put two and two together and realized it was me, I am getting swamped with calls begging me to mentor this kid or that one who is going through treatment. This may sound so selfish, but I have a life, and a great one at that, and I can't invest my energy into developing close personal relationships with kids in tough times. It will kill my spirit as well as sap all my kochos. I wrote my book to help as many people as I can, but I know my strengths. My best tools are my writing and speaking. NOT my personal phone calls and the stresses of keeping tabs on a million kids on chemo.

I know this may be shocking to people out there, but I am not the expert on cancer. Far from it. I just touched the tip of the iceberg with my round. Yes, I chose to write about it and give the world a peek into what life forms on other planets are like, but that does not mean I have all the answers or that I would make a good mentor to others.

I have a family member who totally gives me that fish-eye every time she hears I got another speaking arrangement. She also went through treatment for another type of cancer and she thinks I know nothing because I didn't have the same symptoms as she did. Well Duh, She and I had two different diseases and took different chemos. I cannot speak for her pain as she cannot speak for mine.

I am involved and I do mentor the odd kid here or there, but it's proving to be a huge strain on me. I would rather keep my lives separate, my names separate, so that I can have the kochos I need to give strength to others and then forget about it all when I need to be a wife and a Mommy.

I hope this all made sense to you because it's all a little garbled in my mind right now- I am exceptionally tired right now as I had four phone calls just today from people I don't know who asked me to talk to people I don't know either to give them emunah from I don't know where. I am slightly annoyed that people don't respect my privacy and the decision I made by putting Tzipi Caton on the book instead of my real name, and that they still went and tracked down my unlisted number which is that way for a reason.

Oh well, can't win em all. :-)

Now, for those of you still following my kvetch rant for today- if you have been reading my blog long enough and still haven't figured out who I am, then why do you think that if I tell you my name it will mean anything more to you than Tzipi Caton does?

And my face? I blocked it off for tzniyus reasons... :-P

Mwhahahahahaha!

To Speak or not to Speak...That is the Question

Have a little debate going on in my head. Well not so much my head as between my husband and I and now on the blog.

My husband is not very happy with this whole publicity thing around my book. He is really excited with the book and the fact that I'm an author but he's afraid of all the speaking arrangements and the public appearances.

He claims that even though I'm passing myself off as a young spunky stinker kid of speaker, the fact that I will get up in front of dinner crowds and speak in public will automatically cause people to expect more of me as a person. He thinks that I will be forced to change some aspects of my life to fit a certain image that people will have of me from now on.

I keep saying that it isnt true and that even as a speaker I'm not hiding who I am, but he insists that now if I walk out in a badanna or a slinky skirt, or take my son to the beach, people might look down on me, sort of expecting more.

So that's our disagreement. I wonder if he has a point. I'm sure some aspect of it is right- people are going to view me differently, they already are. But I wonder if I will really have to change my lifestyle for it and if I dont, will it have a negative affect.

It's not like I don't practice what I preach- and it's not like I'm speaking about Torah topics that turn me into a rebbetzin- I just talk about what I know- Cancer and my experience.

Does he have a valid point? Do I have to start watching my back from now on and start dressing my kid in only Jacadi outfits to stop people from avoiding my speeches because my kid only wears Old Navy?

Opinions please!

Ego Boost!

Having so much fun being Tzipi Caton...

I just walked into a local bookstore to buy a book for a student of mine and I noticed a beautiful display of Miracle Ride on the shelf.

JB was with me and he pointed at the bright butterfly which I took to mean he recognized Mommy's book. But then again, he also yelled "Pamper!" when he pointed at a stack of yarmulkas...

I couldn't find the book I was looking for and so I asked the lady behind the counter if she had it in stock. Turned out she didn't. She didn't have the other, backup book I wanted either.

Dreading the thought of leaving the cool bookstore to face the heat outside, I stalled for time.

"That book," I said pointing over at mine, "is it a good seller?"

She looked over the counter to where I was pointing and she starting raving about how she had just finished it and that it was a great book and that it so far was a good seller even though it was pretty new.

I asked her if she got any regards on the book and she shrugged and said that it was selling well but that it was still new. She asked if I read it.

I grinned and told her I wrote it.

Without even asking for ID as confirmation, she grabbed six books and asked me to sign them for her kids.

Mwahahah. Even the heat was okay after that ego boost.

Okay, time to deflate my head...

I'm Still a Stinker!

Wow, my life is getting weird.

People are calling me up and asking me to speak in schools and stuff. Some people are talking to me like I'm some rebbetzin or like I'm the authority on all things cancer.

It's so strange to me because even my mother is talking about me to her friends like I'm just some angel she rasied by mistake. Ma!! Wake up!! Remember the time I tanned with star stickers on my cheek?!

I feel like slapping people and telling them that I didn't change- only their perception of me has. I'm still a little stinker- I was alaways this amazing person deep down inside, but now I wrote a book about it so they all know it.

Why did my husband actually listen to me and stop on the way home for the milshake I wanted? I guess fame and fortune have its merits...but oh, it feels sooooo strange!

The only one who hasn't been affected by my new status is my son, he proceeded to empty the tissue box an hour before Shabbos and climb into my cabinets Friday morning.

I am totally loving the ride I'm taking with Miracle Ride, but whoa, can I snap out of it when I want my old life back for a bit??

Please??

Just kidding... But still, it does feel weird.

Does being an author mean I'm not a stinker no more?

My School's New Required Reading

Book Signing

Well here's my late post about the book signing last week.

It was awesome!

I was so nervous before it started that no one would show up and that my book was going to be a dud, but then at 6:30, people started pouring into Eichler's.

There were lots of people I knew, and many more that I didn't, and some just walked in when they saw the crowd in the store and others came because they heard me on the radio.

At the end of the night I signed 150 copies- a total record!! My hand was suffering from writer's cramp the whole weekend.

It was so great to meet some of my fans and other bloggers, and to see how many people were excited to get the book.

I got a call from my publicist- Gavriel Sanders, this Friday. He called to tell me that we needed to fix as many typos as possible in the next hour because the book was going into a second printing before Shavuous. In the first three days my book sold 3800 copies of the 5000 printed and they were rushing to get more on the shelves!

Thank you to whomever out there bought this book!!!! I feel so cool!

The book signing ended at ten- two hours after it was supposed to, and it left me on a high!

My students came too, and three of them bought me a helium balloon with a little teddy bear at the bottom- they said that they wanted to get me a HUGE white bear that cost $80 but after reading excerpts from my book all year, they sort of figured I wouldn't be too thrilled. (For those of you who read the book, you know what I mean!)

They are so cute!!

When I came to class on Thursday- 95% of my kids had Miracle Ride on their desks. I think it became a new textbook in my school.... I took a picture of them all reading it- I'll put it up here later.

So now that school is ending and I have summer open, people are starting to ask me to come speak for them. I'm speaking in a girl's school this Friday and then in New Jersey in a week. I'm getting stage fright already, but I'm so excited!!

I'll keep you posted!

Some Reviews...

wow, the book came today. while waiting for the cheesecake to cool i started to read... i'm nearly done - i had to force myself to stop reading so i'll have SOMETHING for Shabbos!!!!

G'shabbos,
Stam


I just finished reading your book. I ordered it online (since all the stores I went to in Monsey didn't have it yet), and I sat down to read it the minute I got it. Its amazing! A real source of inspiration. I really have to thank you for all the chizuk you put in there. I really enjoyed your book. I cried on one page and laughed the by the next. I hope your part on shidduchim for people who aren't the typical because they have gone through something... will help to change the way people think and act.

Thank you!

Miriam

Dear Tzipi's Mom,

I dont know where to begin...

First of all, thanks for the most beautiful gift,
My intent was to save it for Shabbos, after all I havnt been home at a
decent hour for over a month, so I couldnt indulge in a good book,
However, I couldnt resist and I just peeked in...

Well of course I couldnt put it down,

I cried and laughed and cried some more, I didnt know that a human has the
capacity to laugh and cry so intensely at the same moment, not the laugh so
hard till you cry kind of combination, but the real tears of emotion from
the pain and the hysterically humorous wit...
Well your girl is something special!!!!

Every part of the ride touched me all over again. Your strength throughout
the ordeal and the ability to document it, photograph it, laugh about it and
run your household through it all continues to amaze me.

I have lots more to say, but the sun is rising, and I'm scared my husband will
catch me still up

SO I will end with wishing you much nachas from your daughter, her husband, and JB (is that his real name?) and much much nachas from the rest of your mishpacha.

May this book inspire and encourage Klal Yisroel, and may this disease and
all sickness be eradicated from our people.

See you later, I"yH

Privileged to know such amazing people.

Esther

I just wanted to let u know that I skimmed the book yesterday (especially the last few chapters) cause I remembered part of the story from when it happened and it’s great! It’s such an easy read, I read much more than I meant to (being that I was in middle of giving my son a bottle at 12:45am). My husband was actually reading it too, and he really liked the Jewish Santa part. I’ll let u know when I finish it.

Book Signing Pics!

Will post on how it was last night when I get back from my day job...

Half my Nerves Gone

Half of my nerves for today are taken care of! Just done the Nachum Segal interview and I had so much fun! He was so funny and easy to talk to. The archives should be up later so I'll post a link to them soon.

Mr. Segal actually called me after to tell me that he was so unexpectedly surprised that I was from Boro Park and yet so worldly. I told him that he got me and that I was really an alien invader from another galaxy just posing as a chassidish kid from Brooklyn. Mwahahahaha!

I must thank two blogs, Serandez and BadforShidduchim, for posting about my upcoming book signing this evening. I hope news of the book has gone out to a large audience and that we will totally bowl ArtSroll over with the demand for the book.

We must show the world out there that there is a huge need for literature on this topic and literature that can be spunky and humorous and honest. This is really just about me making more money off it, but seriously, be there. The cancer community wants to come out of hiding and the only way it's going to happen is if there is a really positive response to Miracle Ride.

So far I got really good feedback from the people who have already read the book (it was put on shelves yesterday) and people are still calling to tell me about it. I hope that tonight Eichler's sells out of the 250 books they have in stock for the signing.

Hope to see you all there!

Legally Me

So this is what being 21 is like....

I hosted the Friday night meal here in my tiny matchbox apartment for my family -15 people in total- l'kavod the book and my birthday. It was lots of fun and all order was kept at the expense of my sanity. Just joking mother- please come again! The ice cream cake was heavenly, (thanks to Sprinkles of Boro Park) and you have half a tray of leftovers in my freezer....

The next part of becoming 21 was getting stuck in that splendid display of thunder and lightening we had this morning- oh yes, and also the rain. My little JB refused to take the stroller today so we were both caught in the rain and soaked, him in his new outfit and shoes and me in my freshly washed sheitel that was supposed to make me look good for Wednesdays' signing. But JB had so much fun splashing in the puddles that I stripped him down to his striped undershirt and let him live and enjoy his toddler hood...until we got back home...

Then came the presents. The presents that remind me that I am no longer a teenager, but a (young) woman about to take on life... and allowed to legally drink...okay, well Vitamin Water is the most I drink, but its nice to know I can if I wanted to.

Soon comes my new diver's license in the mail- to replace the one I've been hiding away in my wallet for three years because it has "UNDER 21" printed right near that ugly picture of me.

Also comes the excitement of having published my own book, and the nervousness about putting it out there and becoming a voice representing people in my situation. I never meant to be anything but an author, but this year, being 21, might teach me a few things I might not yet know about myself.

Along with my new age comes the honor and challenge of standing behind my upcoming book- the honor to acknowledge the praise and the challenge of facing opposition from those who think I am too young and naive and too nervy to have a real opinion on life.

Turning 21 is a big deal for me, it means that I have 21 years of experience behind me, with 21 years worth of friends and family and blog readers along with me, and the world at large recognizing me as an adult. Now the last part of being 21 is to recognize myself that way and know that I am ready for whatever my 22nd year will bring me.

Can I be 21 and still be a little stinker?

Starting Something Big

Okay cyber-readers, I need your help.

With all the publicity that I'm trying to do for my book, I got a very unexpected call from a good friend of my father's.

This is man who lost a son to cancer years ago, and feels strongly about my book getting out there to help other patients laugh and see the brighter side of things.

He offered to buy $500 worth of books to be given to patients, and then he said that if ArtScroll would offer him a discount he'd give another hundred. ArtScroll said they'd definitely do a discount for people wanting to donate books.

Another pal of my fathers loved the idea and also pledged $100.

Now we're all thinking about spreading the word and trying to raise money to get my book out to hospitals and to Jewish patients and their families free of charge. It does mean money though.

We are trying to raise (for starters) like $1200 which will give us about 80 books to work with. 80 books doesnt sound like an awful lot, but having been on the other side, I will tell you that if someone had given me a humorous book about my situation when I was sick, it would have meant the world.

We are hoping my book will mean the world to 80 patients out there- maybe more.

Will anyone care to join the quest?

Proper Invite...

The Face Behind the Blog

Okay readers! You've been following me for a while now and this week you got to finally hear my voice. One reader- "Blueberry" commented that my voice sounds the same as my writing- like a 12 year old. I told her that my face looks the same too.

Now my face is going public with a book signing at Eichler's in Boro Park next week Wedesday.

I'll be on the Nachum Segal show in the morning and then from 6:30 to 8:00 pm I will be signing copies of Miracle Ride to buyers in Eichler's.

ArtScroll has done up a stunning email invite to the book signing but I can't figure out how to get it onto the blog- oh well. I still have lots to learn.:-)

I believe they are offering a %20 off the list price of my book- so there you have another reason to come and meet me. :-)

I'm really really nervous but soooo excited! I hope to see some of you there! I'll bring JB too...if he behaves...

Archive of Gavriel Sanders Show

For those of you who missed my late night interview with Gavriel Sanders, here is where you can listen to it:

For streaming online: Click HERE

For downloading to MP3 or computer: Click HERE

Tell me what you think!

Check it Out!

Click HERE to go to ArtScroll's website where you can already preorder a copy!

New book news!

Hey everyone! Newest update on my book...

I was interviewed by Gavriel Sanders for his radio show. The show airs Sunday nights at midnight on WSNR AM 620 NYC. There will most likely be archives of the interview for those of you who don't want to stay up that late :-)

Got to www.gavrielsanders.com for the archives if you miss it!

I will have another interview IY"H with Nachum Segal, Wedesday, June 4, at 8:30 am. The show plays on 91.1 FM WFMU. I can imagine there will be an archive of the interview too on his site: www.nachumsegal.com

Let me know if you hear me on the radio! I'll be going under the name Tzipi Caton...

Whoa!

From having nothing to say a week ago, I'm revved up to write right now!

The book is REAL. It's ALIVE! And it's coming your way! The people at ArtScroll called me yesterday morning to finalize the cover and to tell me that the book will be on shelves the first week in June. I am still catching my breath. Those guys work fast!

http://www.artscroll.com/Books/mirh.html That's the link to ArtScroll's page on my book and you can order the book there and actually preorder it now.

I got a call this morning about talking on the radio together with my doctor to promote this book and I'm really thrilled! I'm already picking out my wardrobe for when I go on the Oprah Winfrey show. ;-)

The people over at ArtScroll are making it sound like this book is going to be huge and I'm still kind of in shock. I never expected something I wrote to keep me sane at age 16 to become a national bestseller. This is too good to be true!

There will IY"H be a link on this page where you can buy the book directly from the blog, but for now ArtSCroll's website is the only place you can preorder it.

Amazon.com will also carry the book, and it has a glossary in the back that explains all the Jewish terms so that the book can go to a much larger reader base.

The description of the book on the website I posted is so beautiful, I'm really excited to hold a copy of my own and see it for real.

My students are all planning to buy a copy and have me autograph it for graduation. :-) One of my students today pointed out how so much good was coming out of a very bad illness and I felt like hugging her because that's kind of the whole point of my book- to show how much good can come out of anything Hashem gives us.

I plan on keeping the site open and updating you with the radio shows and the fame and glory and stuffs and of course with all the other cancer rants. Now that I'm going public there are sure to be many more stories to share.

My little JB is going to be famous but he's too little to care. Right now he got himself stuck into my cleaning bucket, so I need to take a break from fame and get him out.

Updates to follow more often now!

Updates

Okay! I'm here!

The book is really moving! They called me today from ArtScroll to finalize some minor little details that had to get done, and the actual printing is within the next week or two. That means that by this summer you can see the book on shelves! I'm so excited!

The title has been changed to "Miracle Ride" even though I liked "Riding Backwards" better. There will be a subtitle on the cover to give a little insight to the book and so far we came up with "Fighting a Tumor with a Dose of Humor". I thought that was a good subtitle, but ArtScroll still needs to approve.

The cover art isn't done yet, it's in the process of being created, but printing can happen before the cover is done so I dont care much. I need ideas for a good cover, but I trust ArtScroll has ideas of their own. After all, they're in the business a lot longer than I am!

There are two forewords and two afterwords in the book. My doctor and my mother have each written a foreword, and my friend (another survivor) and myself have written the afterwords. Well my aftweword is more like a thank you page, but its worth reading cause it's funny. I am not about to drop my unique style even for a boring acknowlegements page.

My students are so excited with this book- they are learning so much from the process of what it takes to write and edit and print. I should publish a book every year! My classes all deserve this experience.

My doctor actually called to talk to me about the book and he's really excited about it too. He felt that this is something that no one has covered yet in the market and he feels that this might be good for all patients to read- not just the Jewish ones.

He laughed about all thos incidents that he remembered me getting into, and said that there were a lot of times where I cried or was serious that he never would have guessed felt. He thought it was something that could show people out there that its possible to see things in a good way but its okay to cry too. I'm so happy that he thinks highly of the book.

Other than that he asked me if I would mind talking to a new patient of his who also has Hodgkin's. She's a little down about the whole thing and he thought it would be good for her to see me and hear my point of view. I said yes right away, but I'm kind of shy and nervous.

Anything else about the book? Oh, yeah. I went and gave a class to a seventh grade last week about what it's like to be an author. The teacher is my niece and she took advantage of me by asking me to fill up her lesson. I had a great time pretending to be this amazing author, and then it hit me, like, "Hey! I AM an author!" Feels good!

Pretty much that's what I have to write for now and I'll keep posting as my book gets closer to being published...

Thanks for reading!

I'm Still Breathing....

New post to be up shortly.. lots of stressers now, but life to return to normal within a few days. Sorry "amazing", be right with ya!

Condition: Un-Covered!

You would think that after almost 5 years I'd have nothing more to say on the issue of getting treated for cancer. Alas, that is not the case.

Treatments may be over but my lasting effects are far from gone. We're not talking lasting effects as far as my health goes, I'm talking about the lasting effect cancer had on my Insurance coverage.

My insurance has been a mess ever since I was first diagnosed. My insurance cancelled on my as I was taken in to the emergency room for the first time. They said I wasn't covered outside of New York and they cancelled me on the spot.

I was changed over to another provider that same night but my parents paid much more because I had a pre-existing condition. The company didn't want to cover half my scans and tests and my mother used to spend hours on the phone fighting the charges.

When I got married my husband and I went on the same plan and it's still a fortune cos of my condition. They refuse to pay anything unless I personally call them and tell them that under so and so clause of so and so law in my contract, they had to cover me.

And let's not forget about the co-pays!!! I went to the pharmcay to pick up a perscription and realized that the co pay was more than the actual medicine! I offered to pay for it myself- I need this insurance like a hole in the head.

My husband is into the idea of getting each of us a life insurance policy- of course, he's been trying to get one on me for a long time but these companies charge a fortune to insure someone with a pre-existing condition.

If I have to go to yet another life insurance company and take yet another blood test and EKG and urine sample, I will sue them all.

This week I find out that I am no longer on any insurance plan. The one I was on with my husband is up for renewal and we just found out that the payroll we had been on cut us off six months ago.

Being on a company's payroll list is so that we could apply for insurance with a group and that makes it cheaper cos the companies assume that if you are on payroll you are well enough to work and that makes is much less likely that they will ever have to shell out money for you.

So now that we have to renew our policy we have to show that we are on payroll but because we are not anymore and we were never notified that we were being cut off, we cannot renew our policy and we can't get COBRA cos we would have had to apply for that as soon as we were cut off.

So now I need to go for checkups in one month and if I don't get onto an insurance plan within 20 days I will have to apply for insurance as a brand new patient which means that they can reject me or raise my rates for my pre-existing condition yet again.

This is EXACTLY what I need erev Pesach!

The Pictures

This is the most exciting thing that happened this Purim. My JB became a Mommy and helped me cook for Shabbos :-)

Too Excited for Words!

Okay, I owe it to whomever is still coming back to check my blog....

You might have noticed (and if you didn't, I'll tell you now) that all posts up until and including the one where I got married to BK are gone. Don't worry, I didn't delete them, I just put them in storage.

Reason being; I signed contract on the book.

I'm very excited about it and a little nervous too. This was and still is my dream, to publish something of my own. To see my work on the shelves in the bookstores and say, "Hey, that's MINE!!" It would be soo cool to pick one up in front of my students and say, "Look! I don't make you write for nothing! I write too! I'm a writer!!!"

It's also a dream of mine to help spread the awareness of what it is like to be sick. So many people are doing tremendous chessed in our communities and lots more would love to join, but they don't know much about what they are getting into. I hope my book can help.

This is my dream, and I am taking my fragile hopes and putting them into the hands of the readers. I am putting everything I have into this book and everything I have into you! I am hoping that my dreams catch on and that others find them as inspiring (or at least enjoyable)as I do.

I'm not sure if I'm allowed to spill all my secrets, but I'm guessing it's a form of advertising so my publisher can't get too mad at me.

The book is tentatively titled "Riding Backward" and will be around 220 pages.

It's a better read than the blog because it was tweaked a million times by me, ten million times by my mother, mother in law, my sister in law and my nieces, another couple of times by my friends and then some more by my students (who by the way are gaining so much from going through an actual writing, editing and publishing process).

It also has lots more in it than the blog does- some more details, a new character, some actual names (instead of just annoying initials) and some other secrets.

I'm working on getting my Doctor to write a foreword and my friend, a fellow survivor said she's writing one too. I'm so excited.

I came very close to not doing the book at all though. I had a lot of hashkafic issues to begin with and didn't feel like it was worth bothering to fix them just to publish for such a small market.

I worked with an editor friend who told me to take another opinion by ArtScroll and see what they found wrong with the book, and then decide. Well, ArtScroll decided for me, and that's where you'll be seeing my book IY"H.

I'm not going to spill the publishing date now because it's not final, but I'll let you know when it gets closer.

I'll thank everyone that needs to be thanked when I get to writing my acknowledgments for the book, but for now I'd like to thank my blog readers who pushed my site counter up high enough to convince me that maybe I had something worth putting into hardcover.

Funny, for being too Excited for Words, I sure said an awful lot...

Yes! I'm Sick!

This was written by a friend of mine who is SICK of being sick! Well, she isn't sick anymore- She's getting her port out this week B"H! But this is what she wrote about how she feels about the last few months.

YES, I AM SICK!!!
Yes, I am sick of…your “concern”
Yes, I am sick of…your selfishness
Yes, I am sick of…your nosiness
Yes, I am sick of…your stupidity
Yes, I am sick of…your tactless and constant phone calls
Yes, I am sick of…your visits
Yes, I am sick of…your wants-how about mine?
Yes, I am sick of…your chessed and mitzvos
Yes, I am sick of…you talking about me
Yes, I am sick of…your pity
Yes, I am sick of…the pity in your eyes
Yes, I am sick of…your mouth
Yes, I am sick of…the attention
Yes, I am sick of…your fishing expeditions
Yes, I am sick of…your interrogations
Yes, I am sick of…your harassment
Yes, I am sick of…your lies
Yes, I am sick of…my new best friends
Yes, I am sick of…your presents and letters
Yes, I am sick of…your fakeness
Yes, I am sick of…your “friendship”
Yes, I am sick of…the tension
Yes, I am sick of…being told what to do
Yes, I am sick of…being stared at
Yes, I am sick of…being examined
Yes, I am sick of…being self conscious
Yes, I am sick of…the do’s and don’ts

Yes, I am sick of…my tears
Yes, I am sick of…my sleepless nights

Yes, I am sick of…waking up early
Yes, I am sick of…wearing a wig
Yes, I am sick of…taking pills
Yes, I am sick of… being pricked
Yes, I am sick of…chemo and radiation
Yes, I am sick of…doctors and nurses

Yes, I am sick of…Memorial Sloan Kettering
Yes, I am sick of…being part of the Chessed organizations- of them
Coming over to me, talking to me, of their pushiness to do that they want me to do!

Yes, I am sick, I don't need you to tell me all this,
I only want your help in getting better.

Part of the Club

Fine Chossid- You got me out of hibernation.

I went to a wedding last month of a good friend who is part of "the club". This friend is someone I talk to (or text/email) at least a couple of times every day. We have both been through cancer, both have had our scares and experiences with this, but they never come up in our conversations.

We are both normal people today. Absolutely fine and functioning and happy people. We both teach, and we both kvetch about our school days together, and we complain about piles of laundry, cooking suppers, and prices of shoes. We laugh at stuff together too. We laugh at how she got locked in the bathroom for an hour until someone heard her yelling and came to save her, and at the silly things my son does, and at how much we kvetch.

We met through our common denominator- the "club", but stayed friends because we have so much else in common.

At her wedding, I met another club member who actually was the one to first introduce me to the "club" when I first got sick. She was two years younger than I was but had already finished her treatment and was growing her hair nice and curly when she introduced me to some other kids in the group.

We were really excited to see each other again, and after catching up, she introduced me to some of the Kallah's friends that I didn't know. Most of them were fellow club members. I was shocked at how many of us there were.

She then brought me over to another friend of hers and I asked "Oh, is she in the club too?" And my curly haired friend laughed and said she belonged to another club.

So now, shmoozing with the not-so-new kallah, and talking about her wedding and all the club members I met there, she told me that our curly haired friend had said that I asked about her other friend in that "other" club.

She had said it as a joke. There is no other club...But really, I think there is.

For a long time I forgot what it was to think outside the box. I thought that cancer was all there was. And now, the closer I get to remission and the further I get from treatment, I am in a way, growing up.

I will never forget my bout with cancer- but suddenly, I hear things that I realize are much worse. Some of my friends are having hard pregnancies, one of my friends is going through a divorce, another has a sick child. We're all young kids, and so many are going through so much. How did I ever think I had the monopoly on the keys to the club?

I talked it over with my friend and she said that no matter what, cancer still gets a much bigger reaction from people than say, a divorce. I must admit she is right. Even I, who have been there and done that, get a lot more stressed about a person with an illness over a person with another kind of struggle.

But I'm not right. There is no such thing as a single club- I think in some way everybody belongs to some size shape or form of the "club".

Not only that, I feel that my time as a member of the club is slowly fading. Even though I strongly identify with everyone there, I know that I see myself as an alumni of the club- an honorary member. I feel that even my own club is not really mine anymore.

I love being there for people who want and need it, but sometimes I feel so guilty. Who gave me the permission to do that? Who gave me permission to name myself part of this club?

I think I realized that today I'm part of another club. I'm part of the club that has been there and is still there for others, but glad to be out of there herself. It's like the club was a hole and now I'm on the top of it, helping people out. I feel guilty sometimes - as if I'm only shouting inspiring things into the abyss but not really there with them, but today I realized that I don't need to be. Others need me to be in my NEW club- at the top, ready and waiting to lend a hand to someone needing to be pulled out of the dark.

So I'm proud to start my new club. And all my friends who were in my old one are more than welcome to join! There's no president or anything, we're all the same- here to celebrate being here and there to get as many people from that club into this one!

And a special mazal tov to my latest out of the last club member- mazal tov on finishing radiation and on IY"H getting that Port out! You're almost there!

Doctor Nerves

It's so weird. You would think that someone like me who went through all I did with doctors and cancer and everything would have no problem going for a routine checkup.Alas, such is not the case.

I had three separate doctor's visits in the last month and each was an ordeal. They were all regular not scary visits, just yearly checkups and normal scans and whatnot, but the planning and nerves that went into all that made it seem almost like I was taking chemo the next day.

Of course, blood tests don't scare me and once I'm in the examining room nothing bothers me anymore, it's just the bundle of nerves until I get there.

I wonder, am I crazy? Are there other survivors out there who also get pre doctor visits nerves? I don't slee the night before, cant eat in the morning, wake up early and stress big time.

Anyone out there? Or am I the only sane one???

Miracles

Tonight is JB's birthday. My son is one year old. He just had his first big birthday party in where he was dressed in a brand new outfit, wore a hat, ate ice cream cake, pulled off his hat, mushed his cake into his outift, threw up on the floor and then mushed it all into the tiny fluff of hair he has.

He cried at the end of it when it was way past his bedtime, and then on coming home, refused to go to bed.

Now, in his favorite jammies, JB is on my lap, holding his helium balloons and watching me type my newest (long overdue) post.

I remember a year ago when I left my sister's wedding to meet my new baby. (Yes, she had her anniversary party tonight too!) He was so small and soft when I first held him, and I cried along with his first wail. He had just as little hair as he has now and we knew right away who he looked like and then changed our minds a thousand times until the bris and then a million times until today.

He's the baby that came after chemo, after all the worries, after the old chapter in my life; he is the new one. He's the baby that's my special miracle.

And then I look at my sister's baby. Her baby is just as small (okay, he's an 8 pounder, but you know...) just as soft, and cries much louder. (He also has more hair...) They also decided he looks just like his father, (but they aren't changing their minds about that a million times....) and you know what? He is no less a miracle than my son is.

So he wasn't born after cancer, and he was born to two baruch Hashem healthy parents almost a year to their wedding, and so he didn't come with all the worries. But just like JB, he comes with all the nachas, the joy, the excitement, and the sleepless nights.

I don't think my sister sees her son any differently than I see mine. Some people say I need to appreciate JB more than others need to for their kids, and while I see what they are saying, I don't agree. I don't think that JB came with more nissim than anyone else. I think that others need to see how even a regular, uncomplicated birth is just as special as mine.

Miracles are miracles and it doesn't matter when they happen or to whom they happen to or after what or why. I think the most important part of miracles are to realize that they happen even in the quietest of ways and that we need to keep our eyes open to find them and to be grateful.

For my JB who has just fallen asleep and is still holding tightly to his balloons, I wish him the best of everything always. I'm not good at giving brachos; I never know what to say, but I do know what I feel and I hope that JB gets everything I want for him and even more.

I know that JB is the one getting the presents tonight, but if he only knew that I get a bigger one every single day when I get to kiss him and hold him... You think he's young enough to feel jealous???

Old Kvetch

Old Kvetch is a new reader who just left me a comment on my last post.

The comment was too funny and is so along the lines of the next post I planned to write, that I'm using it instead...

Old Kvetch, hope you don't mind, and thanks!!!

I just stumbled across your blog and have only begun to read some of what you have written so please accept my apology if you've already covered the following topics:

The "my uncle had an even worse problem blah blah blah blah' visitor who seems to think you'd enjoy hearing about a stranger's problem of fourteen years ago while you’re trying to get your mind around everything you must face right now. Somehow, knowing that someone I never met had a different illness in a different part of the body at a different time of their life and was treated with technology as closely related to state of the art medical care today as blood-letting, and mustard plaster and wearing fresh garlic around my neck is supposed to be uplifting.

The visitor who assures you in response to a set back and bleak prognosis c"v that 'eh, doctors, they don't know what they are talking about' (usually followed by an uncle story). Somehow that is supposed to make you feel better about the DOCTOR who is either going to explore your insides or invade (hopefully the correct) parts of your body with radiation or chemo.

DON’T even think of getting me started about the newly rediscovered best friend you haven't seen since kindergarten (and you never liked back then either because he was always trying to sell you the second 'half' of his sandwich, which just happened to be the crust) who shows up with a pitiful gift to make you feel guilty about not buying the alternative medicine product he drove 14 hours from Pittsburgh (without stopping!) to show you as soon as he heard you were sick, without mentioning that he happens to sell it for the Amway equivalent of junk science and even bought a $300.00 supply for you while driving (14 hours non-stop!) FROM PITTSBURGH! (could you pay me back in cash? I don't have a bank account right now) where he had gone to save the life of a yogurt farmer who LIVES on this miracle cure and has survived every illness from male pattern baldness (by rubbing it on his scalp which he has prepped by soaking it all night in cultured organic orange juice) to cancer in every major organ of the body (non of which the doctors could diagnose because they are in a conspiracy with Lyndon LaRouche, Merck, the FDA, Dick Cheney and Big Oil) all caused by his drinking a can of Splenda-sweetend diet soda while standing under the path of a Concord jet on a day he forgot to wrap his head with an extra layer of aluminum foil, all by ingesting copius dosages of the Original, Genuine, ProFauxFlaxiodtrated (unadulterated, of course) which the FDA has been preventing his uncle (the one who survived something worse than you have by staying away from tap water and now showers in WalMart Naturally Desalinated Spring Water - do you think you could help us raise money for him so he can shower in it four times a day like a mequbal he met on a secret flight to Bagdad to daven at the kever avraham avinu would have been buried in if Iraq had been Eretz Yisroel told him to?) from distributing so it is only sold in health food stores (and kept under the counter next to Dr. Marvel's Marvelous Midlife Malitated Midrif Melter that Oprah was censored for when she was this-close to bringing on her show because ABC is secretly owned by a French company that manufactures blood pressure medication that no one would need if they all lost 50 lbs.! They've been using it in Europe for 40 YEARS!) and (take a breath, you sound like you WALKED from Pittsburgh!) dropped everything to drive 14 hours in the other direction to pick up for you at the only surviving retailer selling this stuff because all the others were rounded up and shipped to a secret air-force base in Wyoming (which they have to disguise as an old hippie commune every four years when the national media looks up Wyoming on the map to report on the outcome of the presidential primaries, in which all three voter participate).

SEE! You got me started!

Stay tuned next week for the next episode of "The Chizuk I Could Live Without" in which the adult child of your grandfathers great uncle Mutchkeh' youngest daughter's music teacher's cleaning lady's landlord (in Brownsville. Isn't it just terrible what the goyim did to that neighborhood? I remember when you could walk there at three o'clock in the morning, but your too young, you wouldn't remember, ah kids today what do they know!) offers (threatens) to drive you to all your doctor appointments (by the way, you think maybe can we use your car? I don't have plates on mine right now because my license was suspended a few years ago because I didn't have insurance which I couldn't afford any more after some anti-semit cop wrote me 27 tickets, one for each red light I ran one purim. What did he want anyway? I knew it was no good to drive after so many drinks so I was trying to get home and stop driving as soon as possible and anyway the red light should only be for cars on the street, not the ones on the sidewalk, right?)