So hair. Hair, hair, hair. Hair. All this focus on my hair. I have just about run the gamut with it and can perhaps (almost) say that I can handle the loss of it. In fact, whether I lose my hair or not, I have just about made the decision to cut it. The truth right now is that I am finding it hard to care for it. After one chemo treatment, the amount of energy it takes to wash, rinse, comb, dry and care for it is too much. I have had help the last three washes and while that is nice, I don't want to need help with it. And the reading I am doing about caring for your chemo influenced hair is daunting. Baby shampoos every 3-5 days, pat dry, no dryers, caps to bed to prevent hair loss through friction, etc. Geez. I am starting to feel that cutting it is the right thing to do simply becuase I will feel worse if I can't maintain it. It will take way more physical and emotional energy to baby my hair and study every follicle to see if it is showing signs of falling out. I am tired of it already and it hasn't even started. And with this fatigue, I have to let something go. And I would rather spend the time with my son than with my hair dryer.

So the tentative plan is to go to some expensive salon after Steel Magnolias closes Aug 5th (cause I am still hanging on to the thought I may perform next weekend - let me deal with one delusion at a time please...). I am thinking of some cute low maintanance pixi cut. Layers and spiky? Natalie Portman boyish? Whatcha think? Chin length? I have never contemplated a short do for myself and I am hoping to make it an adventure. I am not promising not to mourn my hair for a bit, but I think I am already thru the worst of it. And I am tired of feeding it energy. So there.

Poor Jackson. His normal life has been so disrupted the last three weeks or so. Being away from home, having house guests and babysitters, not going to the theatre, etc. And we have let him develop some sleeping issues with all the turmoil. Like wanting to get up in the middle of the night to "sit me" on the recliner and watch late night tv. We decided after yesterday's 5:00 am yellfest that we simply have to go back to what worked for us in the first place. Stop going in when he yells. It doesn't calm him down if we go in to reasure him. He wants what he wants and he yells all the louder for thinking he might be getting it. So last night, he woke up about 1:30 and chanted, yelled and cried "Get up, get up, get uppppp mammmmaa" for an hour. Then at 2:30 he took a 10 minute break before starting back up again for another 30 minutes.

David has a hard time with it. He wants to go in and comfort him. But from experience we know that if you go in, it will only piss him off when you leave again. So we let him chant and yell about getting up and wanting the 'yellow paci'.

I have to say it is harder to do this time than when he was one. This time he has words and uses them. Hearing 'Mama, sit me" is bittersweet at 2 in the morning. But his sleeping has been disrupted for a few weeks and I can tell the difference in his behavior when he sleeps and when he doesn't.

On another note entirely, J and L visited a few nights ago and brought me a book. I glanced at the book when they gave it to me and was a bit confused as to why this book. It is called "Of Monkeys and Dragons; Freedom from the Tranny Disease."

"Tranny disease?" I thought. Is this a memoir of a transexual coming to grips with the reality of his/her life? And what of the Monkeys and Dragons? Is he/she a monkey and wants to be a dragon? I was confused, yet interested in a Maury Povich sort of way. I thought "Hey, I trust my friends to bring me something worth reading."

And then last night I took another look at the book laying on my counter and noticed one Key error. The Y. In Tyranny. As is Freedom from the Tyranny of Disease. A perfectly appropriate book to give a newly diagnosed cancer patient. Much more appropriate than the transvestite memior I imagined. Um. Yeah. Tyranny.


And yet, oddly, I wonder about the monkey/dragon he/she and how that memoir would have read...

It is not quite 8 pm on Saturday night and I am almost too tired to blog. I could go to bed right now, but I am not ready to give in and go to bed before dark yet. I decided yesterday that I was not going to perform this weekend and that is turning out to be a very good thing. I feel ok. Just very, very tired, like I am slogging through molassas to get my legs to move. I am slow. And I can't seem to get moving any faster and for me, that is very hard to take. I am a person who moves quickly from place to place, with a focus and a purpose. I have always been impatient walking (or driving) behind the slowpokes. And now I am having to come to grips with the fact that I can't control everything. That I can't speed up and walk faster just because I really, really want to. And purpose be damned I will get there when I get there. But it sure is difficult. My mind is still going as fast as ever, it's just my body that simply won't keep up.

Luckily I am with understanding people mostly. Today David and I went to the Theatre to help a bit with Cats! auditions. Jackson came along and took his afternoon snooze in his accustomed place in the handicapped bathroom. He slept like a log all afternoon while the auditioners sang and danced. It was good to get out of the house and see friends and just be around the theatre and the normalcy it represents for me.

I was a bit afraid I would get there today and feel disappointment or pain to see the Steel Magnolias set waiting for tonight's show in which I will not be performing. But I think the fact that I could hardly climb the steps to the stage made it perfectly clear that I did not really decide not to do the show, I simply cannot currently do the show and I can't change it. If I got there and felt great and got that energy you get before a show and then had to say, "I wish I was going on..." But nope. I am ok with it. I may be up for it next weekend or I may have done the last of it I can, and I have to just accept it.

It was nice to step into the office for a minute. I found a whole stack of cards on my desk with my name on them. People have dropped off little notes to me. It is so wonderful to know that even though this really sucks and isn't what we planned for my 30th year, I am surrounded by people who care about me and don't hesitate to say so.

I actually had a minute or two yesterday when I simply felt happy. Well, content, I should say. How weird that I should feel contentment now. But there it is. We have been dealt this hand and I am proud and happy at how well we are going to be able to deal with it. We are blessed with good health insurance that is widely accepted and I don't have to work full time to keep it. We have family nearby who can and will take as much slack as they can. And tight as things may get, we aren't going to lose our home to pay our bills. If you have to be diagnosed with cancer, geez, there isn't a much better position to be in.

I do worry that this may mean David and I cannot have another child. Heh, we were well into the planning of baby #2 when I got Lasik done and put it off for a few months. Who would have known what a good thing that was. To have gotten pregnant and then be diagnosed with cancer would be...well I don't even want to think about that. It is just another bonus that it didn't happen.

I got my appetite back yesterday. Spent most of the day grazing on the homemade beef stew my dad made. I was pretty weak and shaky for much of the day, but in the afternoon Dad, Jackson and I went to the grocery store. I had been told that walking and getting even a little excercise would make me feel better. And it sure as hell did. I was weak and slow and shaky when we got there and after about and hour of walking around my legs felt better and stonger and I just felt more myself. I was tired afterwards, weary, but not as weak it seems. So yes, getting up and moving around even when I don't feel like it has to be part of my daily life after chemo.

Jackson is having a serious language explosion. He is repeating everything and even coming up with independant thoughts. "where's mama?" he'll ask and they say "Mama sleeping?" And he just talks up a storm all day now. You folks at the Palace aren't going to believe it when you see him next. He is turning into a little boy.

My hip bone is sore from the bone marrow biopsy. I have not heard any results yet and am hoping to get a phone call today. I may call and harrass them this afternoon if I don't hear anything.

And since today is Friday I have some decisions to make about the show this weekend. I just don't know yet if I want to do one, some or none of them. I have a hard time letting the show go on without me, but I also have to face the reality that I have an illness that is taking my energy and attention. Not to mention the new port on my chest that isn't quite healed and the hip bone recovering from the biopsy. I don't know why I feel the need to push myself further. The show will go on whether I am there or not. SO I need to just relax and let my body decide and go from there.

Oh, on the good news front, we read up on my health insurance benefits and they will pay up to $500 for a wig if I want one. Heh, I can get a kick ass wig if I want and Aetna will pay for it. Yay Aetna.

The last two days have been quite eventful and full of surprisingly enjoyable moments and some not so enjoyable ones. Some of which I have chronicled here. It is a long one so feel free to get bored and stop reading at any time.

9:00 yesterday morning, Mom and I arrived at the cancer center for my first round of chemotherapy. The lobby volunteers offered us juice and refreshments and made us welcome. We didn't wait long for the nurse to bring us back to the chemo infusion center. It is a big open room with a nurses station, lots and lots of windows and three separate infusion areas. Each area has about four to six vinyl recliners with a pillow in each one. They are arranged in a circle, so that patients can interact and talk with the others. Pretty good idea to prevent isolation. The nurses area is nearby and open to the room. They can easily see if someone needs something or calls for them. Infusions can take hours so it is nice that the environment is so comfortably laid out.

My nurse, Jennifer, is in her early 30's and really savvy and nice. She sat with me, mom and Andrea' for half an hour discussing the drugs I would be receiving and what to expect from each one. She was so kind and thorough and spoke with me as a peer in intelligence, if not in knowledge. She told me to pick a spot and recommended the back corner where you can see everyone coming and going and still see out the windows. So I set up residency in the back corner. Mom and Andrea were allowed to stay with me as long as the chairs weren't needed.

Heh, I was sitting in the corner facing the whole room, with my visitors and the nurses and the American Cancer volunteers spending lots of time just talking with me. I felt like I was holding court from my throne. Made me laugh. Mom said that the nurses and volunteers were so interested in me because I am a youngster, rather than their usual elderly patients. I have more conversation fodder and I tend to get chatty when drugged. They started the drugs with IV Benedryl to prevent severe allergic reactions and I was high as a kite for a while.

All in all, my first chemo session took about six hours to complete. And it was a surprisingly enjoyable experience. Having the port implant meant that there was no one digging around in my arms to get an IV started and without an IV in my hand or arm I had both hands free. I had the company of my mom and my best friend, a great nurse, and great conversation with people I will be spending lots of time with in the next several months.

I didn't start feeling queasy until about an hour after I got home. I took one of the phenergan they gave me for nausea but it didn't help much so I took a second an hour later. You are allowed two at once, but I like to start with lower doses because of my weight. I battled the nausea through the night, waking up to eat some fig newtons and take more medicine. Poor David, I woke him up at 5:30 this morning crinkling the fig newton wrapper so loud for what seemed like 5 minutes, because I couldn't get them open in the dark.

When I got up this morning I had the worst cotton mouth ever and my body felt really really heavy. Like my limbs were wrapped in cement. But after a bit of breakfast and juice and my anti-nausea big gun (Emend), I started to feel a little better. The nausea subsided, and I was just left with this odd weakness.

You know that is what is really surreal to me about this whole thing, the times when I need to use a wheelchair to get around and have someone help me get into the bed or to the bathroom. It just doesn't feel like I am me at those times. I am a strong, vital person and I am tough. I do pain and illness well. I handle it with minimal drama and understand that simply relaxing through the pain and knowing that it isn't going to last forever, makes it easier to endure. So when the tough girl can't walk from department to department in the hospital or can't manage to get into the bathroom without help, I start to feel really weird. Who is this person I have become? Personal Long-term illness simply isn't in my plans. It isn't supposed to be part of my life story and I am having a hard time assimilating it. But perhaps my inability or refusal to define myself as a sick person will help in the long run. I won't wallow in this. I won't be a victim. To do so would mean re-writing my entire internal story of who I am. And I am not willing to do that.

Of course there is one thing that I am unable to take quietly - the hair. I am going to lose my hair and there isn't anything I can do to stop it. When I was feeling the ill effects of the chemo last night, I indulged in a hair meltdown. I cried and sobbed about it. I don't want to lose my hair. And I am not interested in being positive about it. Yet. All the well-meaning "It'll grow back" responses I get do not make me feel better. Yes, I will eventually have hair again. But not for quite some time. As long as I receive chemo - 6 to 8 months, my hair will not grow back. When it does start growing again it will be fragile, possibly and probably a different color and texture. And it will grow slowly. Maybe 6 months after I stop chemo I may have something I won't be embarrassed to be seen with. My hair as I know and love it is about to be gone and I refuse to take it in stride. I am mad about it. Pissed off. Sad. And I think I deserve to be. So while I appreciate the caring motive of the 'it'll grow back' crowd, all that I truly wish is for co-misery. I'd much rather you tell me "I think it really sucks ass that you are losing your hair. That pisses me off too!"

This afternoon I had my bone marrow biopsy - the last big procedure to determine my stage of cancer. David and Mom went with me to Georgetown hospital to get it done. One perk of being a Cancer Center patient is that I don't have to go through main admissions and the waiting room gauntlet to get registered, etc. The Cancer Center registered me and took me strait to my prep room.

I had to get some lab work before the procedure so we got to test the amazing port for a blood draw. Yesterday, accessing the port was pretty painful - because it is new and still tender and also because the needle is like a push pin that they pop into your skin to the port below. Today, I went prepared. I got a prescription of Emla cream (mostly lidocaine) and put a gob on the port site and covered it with a small piece of Saran Wrap. By the time the lab was ready to access the port, I was good and numb. Didn't hurt at all. And once again I had my hands free and no stress about how many tries it would take to get an IV started. Yay ports!! If you ever have the unfortunate luck to get cancer, you simply have to indulge in this must-have accessory. It is all the rage in the Cancer Center.

The biopsy itself went well. It was done on the CT scan table. They took the biopsy from my pelvic bone, accessed through my butt. I had to lay on my stomach and using the CT scanner, the doctor located the exact trajectory for the needle. He marked the spot on my ass with an X (of course) and that told him the best path into the bone. It was a ten minute deal. Pretty painless since I got the mighty Fentanyl/Versed cocktail for the third time two weeks. Of course I needed the drugs for more than just pain. Because I had to lay there all covered up - except for one thing. My ass. I lay there on a skinny little CT table facing the wrong way to see the team in action, with my tush quite perfectly on display for any and all comers. Yes, the nice nurse pushed the drugs at about the same time as a stranger began drawing with a marker on my ass. All I could think was "Am I back in College?"

I have to say that I am having a bit of a problem with these doctors who begin performing their little procedures on me with not so much as a "Hi how are you? I am going to draw on your ass now." First Dr. Cain, who didn't say boo to me before the WD-40 attack on my nose and now the Radiologist whose face I never even saw has intimate knowledge of my ass, but didn't introduce himself to me before or after the biopsy.

I am just glad that Dr. George and the nurses at the Cancer Center are so wonderfully human. And I would like to know what the hospital plans to do with those CT scan pictures of my ass. If I were a state beauty pageant winner they would be posted to the Internet by now and Donald Trump would be defending my honor.

Oh man, I am rambling. Sorry.

Just had to post these pictures of Jackson on his second birthday on July 14th. Elaine took them and I just stole them from her blog. http://stillrunningamuck.blogspot.com/

She is really getting good with her camera. The first picture is the perfect moment when we brought out the cake and Jackson got a look at it. Cake is one of his very favorite things. The second picture is the after pic of the sated little boy. He sure loves chocolate cake.

The shows went well on Saturday and Sunday. I was feeling well enough to perform. I kinda pooped out Sunday afternoon, long about intermission though, and had to finish the last scene on sheer force of will. But I did it. We performed to very full houses, almost sold out both shows. That was really nice. My Dad got to see the show on Saturday night and though the irony of the role wasn't lost on him, he enjoyed the show.

This morning I had an eye doctor visit to check on my lasik healing. I confess that I have not been as diligent with the tear drops to combat dry eye as I should have been. Guess I just had other things to think about. So my left eye is still a bit behind my right in terms of dryness and visual acuity, but all in all the lasik was a success and I can see 20/20 without contacts or glasses.

I told Dr. Miller about my lymphoma and we talked a bit about what chemo means for my eyes. She said that chemo can exacerbate dry eye, so we need to keep using the gel drops at night and I will continue with monthly check-ups to make sure this doesn't mess with my eyes too much. She wants me to consult with her before I get any radiation, cause that can cause some damage depending on the type or placement of it. But that will be later down the road and she said that as long as we watch it, cancer should not mess up my great lasik results.

I am sure glad I got it done. With all these procedures they sometimes don't like you to wear contacts and that means glasses, which you can't wear during a procedure, just before and after it. So you end up blind and wondering where they put your glasses when you are already vulnerable from the drugs and procedures and those breezy stylish gowns they give you. It is definitely nice to not have to worry about my sight while undergoing all this shit.

This afternoon I got the Portacath placed in my chest. They were really nice and even pretty much on schedule today. I was not supposed to eat after 8:00 this morning, but after experiencing on Friday just how sick I could get going NPO all day, Mom and I decided to ignore that order. She's an RN and felt that while it is imperative to be NPO for a PET scan like Friday's, it is simply not necessary to be NPO for conscious sedation, like today. They don't want you to get sick from the drugs and puke all over them or yourself or aspirate it into your lungs. But I had these same drugs last week. We know they don't make me sick. So we decided that it was in my best interests to eat a light lunch. And when they asked me when I had last eaten, I was a bald-faced liar and told them what they wanted to hear. I wish I didn't have to do that, but after Friday, I am not going to go without eating without a really, really good reason.

The port is just under the skin above my left boob. You can't really see it under there unless you are looking for it. Right now it looks kinda scary cause I have two incisions and pen markings all over. But when the incisions heal, I think it won't be very noticeable. It is pretty tender and sore right now. I am not looking forward to the nurses touching it tomorrow when I get my first round of chemo. But in the long run this will be so much better than having to get an IV all the time. I will not miss the techs and nurses multiple attempts one bit. Today the guy got in on the second try. No I won't miss that a bit.

While I was having the port placed, Dr. George called my cell and left a message for me. He has the results of Friday's PET Scan and it is very good news. The scan did not turn up any other areas of lymphoma. So what we already knew about in my chest/lung area is all of it. The lymphatic system is all over your body and they are all connected to each other somehow, so it is possible for the cancer to travel to other parts of your body where there are lymph nodes.

But in my case, they all decided that living in my right lung was the way to go. So they are all concentrated there oblivious to the fact that we plot their death even now. I picture the bugs in those old Raid commercials. You remember, they're all sitting around the kitchen partying and having fun til one sniffs the air and yells "RAAIIDD!" And they all explode in a cloud of dust. Well that is my lung: Party central today, but the sunsabitches are gonna get it tomorrow!

Heh, I think the darvocet I took for my tender port is making me silly. I better go to bed.

Yesterday was a tough day. I was tired and short of breath from the getgo. It is amazing how little activity it takes to make me feel like I just ran around the block. I can't carry Jackson anymore.

We had a wellcheck at the pedi for Jackson in the morning. My mom came and took us to that. Jackson was having a rough time. Crying cause I wouldn't let him play in the water in the toilet, crying cause I wouldn't give him ice cream for breakfast, and refusing to eat the waffles that I did make him. My mom wrangled him into his clothes so I didn't have to. I was just hoping he wouldn't be getting shots at the visit. He didn't. Apparently he is done with shots till his 4-year-old visit. So that was good news. He is still small. Still only 21 lbs. That is less than 5%. But he is sure getting tall. He is 34 in. plus a little and that is the 50%. Which means that he is taller than half of the boys his age. So he is going to be tall and thin like his dad was. Dr. Unite was wonderful as usual. We told him about my diagnosis and we talked a bit about it.

My Dad recently suggested I find a part-time preschool for JAckson to give me more rest and flexibility with Doc appts. I thought it was a great idea, but Dr. Unite and my mother quickly put the kabosh on that idea. Chemo severly lowers your white blood count and weakens your immune system. If I send Jackson to preschool he is going to be constantly bringing home colds, viruses and other illnesses. While it would be nice to have the Jackson break, the risk to my health is too great. So Jackson stays with me. I am ok with that. I have a ton of people who would watch him if I schedule things well. Instead, we discussed a housecleaning service. I want to find someone to come in and clean several times a month, both so I don't have to do it and so the environment gets de-germed more often. I think that is a great idea and am going to look for a service right away. If anyone has a recommendation I am open to it.

In the afternoon yesterday I had my PET/CT scan done. This is what made the day so damn hard. I wasn't allowed to eat all day in preperation for it. Normally I could probably handle it, but now if I don't eat I feel terribly sick. I started feeling weak and light-headed from no food around 10:30 and it only got worse from there. We arrived at ARA at 1:15 as sceduled and waited in the lobby for over an hour. I felt myself becoming weaker and I turned to my mom and asked "So what happens if I pass out in here? Do we have to reschedule?" Mom felt my pulse, which she called 'thready' and was about to have me lay down in her lap when they called us back. Finally. I had a hard time walking unassisted so they brought out a wheelchair for me. Tells you how sucky I felt, I let them push me around in a wheelchair like an invalid.

After 2 tries with the IV start they finally got one in, but it was too small for their comfort. They watched it constantly while I got the radioactive sugar infusion. This is what makes the PET scan work, something radioactive. After they gave it to me, they made my mother wait behind an iron sheild and I'm thinking "this stuff is so bad you can't even be near me, but it is ok to shoot into my veins? Alrighty." They put me in a warming room to percolate or whatever for about 45 minutes. They were also nice enough to leave me with a cup full of barium to drink. Nice white chalky liquid lightly flavored with coconut. Yuck. But the actual scanning only took about 20 minutes and was not uncomfortable. I just had to lay there.

On the way home Mom picked up a pizza. It was 4:15 when I finally was able to eat something, and you'd think I'd pig out, but I didn't. I ate as much as I could which isn't much right now. I am having a hard time eating sometimes. It feels like the food gets stuck in this one specific spot and it hurts. Mom thinks it is an affected lymph node pressing in where it shouldn't be. It makes things uncomfortable sometimes.

I was just so wiped out yesterday that I couldn't do the show. Steel Magnolias went on without me last night. Joni says they did well. I am glad. I am disappointed that I couldn't do it, but I was pretty sick.

Today I feel great in comparison. I have eaten and not had to run all over to appointments. I am going to be able to go on tonight. My Dad has come into town unexpectedly to see me and he is going to the show if I go on. And it is 2pm and I feel good. If I can get a nap in and eat another couple of times today, I should be fine and dandy to go on. Yay!

Today I had my first appointment at the Southwest Regional Cancer Center - Georgetown branch. I met with Dr. George there along with David and my Mom. We had all my records faxed to him from Round Rock and from the Pulmonologist so he was able to read all that and take over my care. Looks like I have Large B Cell Lymphoma. But I have to have several more tests and scans to determine what stage of cancer I am in. That information will determine exactly what kind and duration of treatment I will undergo. Short course of chemo followed by radiation or long course of chemo with or without radiation. Most likely the latter - 6 to 10 courses of chemo given every three weeks. Radiation down the road if necessary. Dr. George assured me that lymphoma is not only treatable it is curable. We will talk about my specific prognosis when we have established in what stage I am.

Dr. George was great. He was informed, seemed very with it and organized. He was determined to get my tests and scans done right now, not the end of next week and he made that happen. And above all he is a human being. Warm and caring. That is such an improvement from Dr. C, the Pulmonologist.

Dr. C did my biopsy on Monday and I swear he didn't even say hello to me before he squirted the most foul concoction up my nose and down my throat. Not even a smile. "This is really gonna burn." He said as a form of greeting. And it did. This was the numbing medication prior to the bronchoscopy. It was in an aerosol can and had that long little tube on it like a can of WD 40. And it tasted like WD 40 - OK, more like paint thinner. Er, I mean it tasted and burned like I imagine paint thinner would. I haven't actually tasted paint thinner so I can't say for sure. But if it is anything like this anesthetic, I certainly would not recommend it.

Back on topic though, I really like Dr. George and he sure got everything moving very quickly. He doesn't want to delay my treatment very much at all. Says we don't have to start chemo tomorrow before we get some test results, but we are starting early next week.

I have a busy, busy week scheduled. Tomorrow I get a PET/CT scan of my whole body to pinpoint any lymph nodes that are affected - could be more than just my lungs. On Monday I am getting a port put in my upper chest, above my breastbone. A port is basically permanent IV access - or permanent til we are done with chemo and we take it out. This is something my mom recommended and the doc agreed. This way I don't have to get an IV every time I get chemo and they can also get blood draws from it. It goes into a bigger vein than what is in my skinny arms. Otherwise I would risk damaging my arm veins and enduring countless sticks and do overs from nurses missing. Pretty practical I thought, so I am getting one. Tuesday we start the first round of chemo. I am supposed to plan on being there 4 - 6 hours as they give you the first dose really, reeeaaaallly slowly to see how you react to it. Then Wednesday I am having a bone marrow biopsy taken from my hip bone. This will make sure the cancer isn't so systemic that it is in my marrow. I hope not.

So things are moving rapidly. And I feel better having something to do and plan. I just want to get started even though I know we are looking at a long road and I really, really don't want to lose my hair. Sigh. The doc pretty much destroyed my hopes that I would not have to be a baldy. But alas, the hair is doomed. That is really gonna hurt. I am sure that I will get over it pretty quickly cause I don't enjoy moping (too much). But man. Sure wish cancer didn't have that one-two punch.

I did request one perk today and got it. A handicapped sticker for my car. If I have to go through all this and do it without the comforts of my hair, I am damned well gonna have preferential parking.

I am going to try to do some if not all of the Steel Magnolias shows this weekend. I think I can do it and I would like to do it. I may find my energy is simply not enough to do all three of them and after chemo next week I may be too sick to any more of. But I am going to try. Wish me luck!

Update...

Thanks to everyone for your thoughts and wishes. Just wanted to post a quick update for everyone, since I don't really feel like answering my phone.

I had my procedure this morning where they attempted to look around and get a biopsy of the mass in my lung. We are not sure if they were successful or not. The doc said that I was bleeding from the biopsy sites too much for his comfort and he stopped before he really got a good piece. What he got may or may not be enough for a diagnosis. If not, I will need a different kind of biopsy that will require them to go into the lung from between a couple of ribs on my chest - a sugergical biopsy instead of an endoscopy. Needle biopsy would not yeild enough of a sample either.

But the long and short of it is that the two docs who treated me today agree that whatever it is appears to be malignant. Yup. I said it. The Big C.

The question now becomes what kind of big C. They are guessing and hoping for Hodgkin's Disease, Lymphoma or a Germ Cell tumor. Any of these things are very treatable and even curable and tend to show up in otherwise healthy young adults like me. If this is the case we are looking at chemo and radiation, not surgery. It's not how I would prefer to spend the next year (or however long) of my life. But nobody asked me.

If this is not some form of lymphoma, but is instead a true lung cancer, I will need surgery to remove most if not all of my right lung. The docs feel the chemo is the lesser of the two evils, so that is what our hope is right now. Hodgkin's, or similar and chemo/radiation. Funny thing to hope for, but that is the plan.

On a different note entirely, I was able to open Steel Magnolias this weekend with little difficulty. We had three good solid shows and pretty damn full houses. Opening night, in fact, we had 230 people which is the largest opening night of a non-musical at the Palace ever. And the biggest opening, musical or non, since Beauty and the Beast two seasons ago. The crowds were appreciative and seemed to really have a good time.

Nikki Z. starts rehearsals tonight to take my place as Shelby. And it looks like she will definitely be needed. I know she will do a fabulous job. And I will try not to be sad if I cannot perform in the rest of the run. I got bigger fishies to fry right now.

It's Friday the 13th. Tonight we open Steel Magnolias to a full house at the Palace. On Friday the 13th. Some people call that unlucky, but I was born on Friday, August 13th and David proposed to me on Friday, December 13th. I happen to like the date.

But it is interesting cosmically that I should be opening this particular show on Friday the 13th. In this show I am playing Shelby, a woman dying of disease and determined to live anyway. This at the same moment in time that my health is in such a questionable state.

This week all the signs and symptoms of illness I have been experiencing converged and made themselves known. My mom took me to the ER on Tuesday because I was short of breath for no reason. She is an RN and knew that was not normal and shouldn't be ignored. Turns out my chronic cough is not allergies as I and my doctor kept assuming, and all the allergy meds in the world can't fix it. Instead, the x-ray and CT scan show that I have pneumonia and some kind of mass or growth in my right lung. Monday morning I go in for a bronchoscopy - where they go in with a camera to look around and get a biopsy. The hope is they will be able to figure out what it is before I have surgery to remove it. Things are pretty obstructed, though and they may not be able to get a biopsy. In that case, I will simply have to have surgery without knowing what it is.

So here is to hoping that they can get a successful biopsy and it turns out to be something cool, like my twin sister, and not something less cool like the big C.

But tonight we open Steel Magnolias. We already have an amazing actor learning my part so they will be covered if I have to have surgery right away, or if I simply become too out of breath to go on. As it is, I feel like an invalid. I feel as if I ran around the block after wrestling my son through a diaper change. Be nice if they can fix this and give me full breath again.

Heh, I just have to laugh now at all the shit I got during Robin Hood about projecting and being heard over the kids. I would just like it to be known that I did the best I could given that half of my right lung is obstructed! So there. And I am grateful to be mic'd in Steel Magnolias so I don't have to waste energy on being heard.

The cast is wonderful. They have cough drops placed all over the set for me. Last night, I was about to have a coughing fit and Jan handed me a cough drop. I didn't even try to hide it, simply made it common place. And it sure helped me get through. Just eased the terrible tickle in my chest and I was easily able to talk without sounding like I had something in my mouth. Hopefully tonight will go as well. I am getting that opening night excitement now and am pleased that nothing can dim the performer in me. Yeah, I am possibly very ill and unsure of what the next few weeks will bring, but goddammit, I am an actor. And tonight the show goes on.

So you'd think that since I haven't posted in so long that nothing interesting was going on in my life. But then you'd be wrong, my friend. I seem to be unable to post when I have too much going on in my life. Rehearsals for Steel Magnolias, memorizing lines. Oh and that Lasik thing.

Yup. After 22 years of increasing levels of blindness, I am now free of glasses and contacts. Hurrah! Of course, it wasn't that easy. No, no, my life needs more interesting fodder for storytelling than simply "Hey, I got my eyes fixed and it was great." There simply has to be an epic tale to tell. So if you want the short version stop with this paragraph. If you want the epic...read on.

It started so simply. I decided to to finally take the plunge and get it done. Made an appt with my eye doctor in April and found that while I am very blind, I am actually a candidate for Lasik. When I say very blind I mean that 20/20 is a 0 and I am a -12. 90% of people who wear contacts or glasses are a -6 or better. And I am (was) twice that. But testing showed me to have abnormally thick corneas. This is a good thing considering that they reshape your eye, basically shaving it with a laser and the more prescription you have the more reshaping needs to be done. So I am (was) a freak with legally blind vision and crazy-thick corneas.

I wanted to get it done right away, but there were two complications. I needed to be out of my contact lenses for at least 2 weeks prior to the surgery and I was performing in Robin Hood. Maid Marian could not wear coke-bottle-lensed glasses. So we put the surgery off till after Robin Hood closed and I could wear my glasses full time for two endless weeks.

June 14th was the big day. And I cannot begin to tell you how ready I was. Wearing my glasses was difficult for me. It was hard to see because the level of prescription I have gives no peripheral vision and lends a serious feeling of vulnerability to a girl. And I found myself slipping into behaviors and body language that I hadn't seen since I was a sophomore in High School and got my first pair of contact lenses. Couldn't look people in the eye for more than a second and didn't want them to look at me. Kept my head down and shoulders hunched. Protected my space in a way that reminded me of junior high. How you had to be very careful who got too close to you, cause if the smartass boy took your glasses and passed them around the cafeteria to see how blind you are, you'd be virtually helpless till they gave them back. Really -I was that blind. And wearing my glasses reminded me of the precarious position compromised eyesight can place you in. Add to that the fact that I was not taking my headache prevention meds cause they cause dry eyes and was starting to suffer from increased headaches. I was cranky about it and ready to get the surgery.

And at 7:11 am on June 14th, the laser center called to tell me not to come. They calibrate the laser each morning at this morning it came up with an error code. It either works at 100%, or it turns itself off. And there would be no surgeries performed that day. I was devastated. I had been telling myself 5 more days, 2 more days, etc. and couldn't imaging having to wait longer.

But I had to wait. It just so happens that the laser center was moving to its swanky new offices the very next day. That meant they had to shut down and move the lasers, recalibrate them and the FDA had to re certify them before I could get my surgery done. They were very vague on when they could do it, but I finally got them to work out a plan for me personally. My eye doctor is the wife of the man that runs the laser center and I was considered a priority patient. The plan was that they would do their damnedest to get the lasers functional and approved by Tuesday AM and call me in on Tues Afternoon to end my suffering. But we wouldn't know till last minute whether this would happen or not. So I waited. And waited.

Monday evening my doc's assistant called to tell me it didn't look good and to not plan on getting in on Tues. I tried to ask what the alternate plan was, Wed? Thurs? But Joe was just the assistant and had no answers. They would call me with more news.

Tuesday came and I got no call from them. I waited till 3pmish and called them myself. Somebody needed to tell me something. I could not put this off forever. Steel Magnolias opens on July 13th and I understood light sensitivity to be a common side effect of the surgery. Not a good thing when you are standing under stage lights. The flunkies reported - cheerily - that I was being schedule for the next Tuesday, another week away! Why? I asked. Why next week? Well, it seems the surgeon at the laser center was taking his vacation. Leaving tomorrow, so it was either the failed Tuesday plan or next week. I almost calmly asked to speak with my doctor. She'd call me back.

In the meantime, while I fumed, madder than I have ever been in my life, I started calling the other 5 or 6 state of the art laser centers in Austin with my story. Mann Eye Institute said come in tomorrow for scans and if you are cleared, we'll do it Thursday.

When my doc finally returned my call, I told her I had fired her husband's laser center and wanted to go to Mann. And my wonderful doc gave me no shit about it and helped me get my records over to the new place. I think she understood how shitty it was that I was being put off another week so the surgeon could go on vacation.

Mann Eye Institute was wonderful, first class, treated me well, got me - a complicated patient- in for surgery with two days notice. They agreed to co-manage me with my eye doctor and let me do all my follow-up with her. Which is important to me because she runs a child friendly office. All the exam rooms have toys in the corner and they encourage me to bring Jackson along.

So I am now a week post surgery and am seeing nearly 20/20. I am told my vision will improve even more once I heal further and take care of the dryness that is a common side effect.

This is pretty life changing. I have identified myself as being blind for so long. It is hard to grasp that the disability is gone. That I am not just wearing my contacts. That what I am seeing is produced solely by my own eyeballs. Very weird. I have a hard time getting into bed at night. I have such a feeling of wrongness when I walk to my bed with perfect vision. It feels like I have simply forgotten to take out my lenses.

Maybe I needed it to be an epic struggle to make it real somehow. It's a personality trait (flaw?). I somehow need to fight or suffer for something for me to appreciate it. Silly huh?

Just wanted to post a couple pics of my fantastic hubby playing the disturbing Edward Rutledge. Hate the character, not the actor...

Opening nights have a special flavor and excitement to them. And last night was no different. Last night 1776 opened at the Palace to an appreciative crowd of about 120. Andrea and I had a girls date. Dinner at the Wildfire and then the show. We ate too much, spent too much and gabbed plenty. And the show, oh the show!

1776 is a little-known musical, but I don't know why. I love it. Of course in addition to being a theater lover, I am also a history lover. And early US history is my favorite period of study. So I guess I am just destined to love a musical that combines both these things. But more than that, I think it is well written, the music is catchy, lyrical, comedic and at times poignant and biting. The writers walked a fine line in keeping the subject matter fun and entertaining, but throwing in reminders that this was serious business and that these men were signing a treasonous document and that many, many people would lose their lives over the decisions that they made that summer in 1776.

But my real pleasure of the night was witnessing my husband's command performance. It is an established fact that David is a gifted actor and a beautifully talented singer, but this time he has shown more depth and range than ever before. He auditioned for this show feeling certain, because of his height, good looks and tenor voice, to be cast as Thomas Jefferson. A role he could have done very well and done it in his sleep. Instead, what he really wanted was to play Edward Rutledge, the continental congressman from South Carolina. It is a relatively small role, but a pivotal one. Rutledge is not the standard goofy guy/leading man type David usually plays. He is one of the dissenters. He steadfastly refuses to endorse the Declaration of Independence as long as it contains the abolition of slavery.

Not a historically popular stance indeed. But in the show Rutledge disdainfully rejects John Adams' and Ben Franklin's claims that slavery is a dirty southern custom and gets right to the uncomfortable truth that it was the northern sailors who went to Africa selling bibles and rum to buy the slaves in the first place. They may not have held slaves in their homes, but they profited greatly from the triangle trade. And this point he makes in a show stopping musical number called 'Molasses to Rum'. It is a creepy song, designed to make you uncomfortable, even though it is geniusly and beautifully written. And this is the song my husband desperately wanted to perform. It requires both a strong actor and a strong vocalist and holy shit did he bring down the house!

We have been wondering how the audience would react to the number. Would they be silent? Would they clap? Would they boo? Well last night they cheered and applauded. And with good reason. David was magnificent, adding the perfect expressions to throw the point into John Adams' face and the vocal dexterity he showed was the best I have ever heard from him on stage. We all know what a fabulous leading man he is, but after this show, he has proved his stellar chops include a depth and passion that everyone can appreciate.

I am so proud. Sigh.

Go see the show!!!

www.thegeorgetownpalace.org

Just got home from the read-thru of Steel Magnolias. I guess I didn't mention it before, but I got cast as Shelby in the Palace production that will open July 13th. It is funny how things happen. I never in a million years thought I would be playing the Julia Roberts part in Steel Magnolias. The show has just never spoken to me on a Southern level. I was born and raised in Texas, but my parents are Yankees from Pennsylvania. I don't have a southern Grandma feeding people and saying things like "I swanee." I simple was never interested in doing the show.

But when the scripts came in a couple of weeks ago, I decided to read it to see if I changed my mind, and I did. Not because I love the colors blush and bashful, or feel any more at home in a home-based beauty parlor. But because I am a mom now. When you have a child everything changes, they tell you that, but it really is true. I cried when I read the script. Because I can relate to Shelby who wants a child so badly she is willing to stupidly risk her life to have one. I relate to M'Lynn's trauma of dealing with her sick daughter and the pain of losing her. I just wanted to be a part of the show that shows how women can play the odds in life and win or lose, be surrounded and supported by her women friends.

So after a grueling 3-hour callback audition, I got the role of Shelby. And I have to find a way to relate to a woman who loves pink to distraction and has to have the absolute perfect color of nail polish or the day will be a failure. Luckily the script is well-written and the cast is great. It should be just enough of a challenge and good time had by all.

Here is the question of the century. Why do I blame my husband every time my son poops in the tub?

Really? This isn't a one time thing. Of late, Jackson has decided that his nightly bath ritual should include mommy screaming and snatching him out of the tub while yelling "David, get in here, there's poop!"

I am in the beginning stages of potty training with Jackson. We have a potty chair and several times a day I ask Jackson if he wants to sit on his potty. He is usually excited to do it and runs to the bathroom. He has not, as of yet, actually put any waste into the potty, but I have hope that will come.

I just have this irrational reaction towards my husband. I somehow think it is his fault. I yell at him and make him deal with it whenever I can. Maybe it is because he just thinks it's so damned funny. Maybe it is his fault because he is in charge of washing Jackson and Jackson pretty much only poops when we leave the room for a minute. Maybe it is his fault because, as anyone who knows my husband knows, he finds flatulence entertaining like a 5th grader and is known for it far and wide. So the pooping in the tub gene must come from him. I don't know.

All I know is that the instant the poop hits the water, my poor husband takes the blame.

7 Random Facts About Me!

This is a tag from Stella's mom, Julie!

Here are the rules: Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. You need to choose 7 people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!

1) I have nightmares. Rarely ever just plain old dreams, just nightmares. Haunted houses, serial killers entering my bedroom, spiders, lots of spiders. I tend to wake up yelling and grabbing for David, who has gotten used to it.

2) I took my brother to my senior prom. Didn't have a date - no one asked me : ( I am actually not bitter. It was a boring prom, really. In our school cafeteria and all the DJ played was suck-ass country music. I wished for a life anywhere but in Florence, Texas that night.

3) I have always wanted to be 4 inches taller. I am 5 feet even and as a little girl, I was told that to be in the Miss America Pageant you had to be at least 5 foot 4 inches. I actually don't know if that is true or not, but it stuck with me and I have always felt that physical beauty meant being at least 4 inches taller than I am. I am about over it now, at 30. But anyway...


4) I once won $625 on a pull of a slot machine in Vegas. Lights and sirens went off, a man in a tux came over and handed me the money. It was the most exhilarating moment ever. I stopped gambling for the night, and bought a $30 shot of tequila at the bar and listened to the band they had playing for the rest of the night.

5) In second grade I found a classmate, Lindsay's math homework on the floor, erased her name and turned it in as my own. I did this for two reasons. One - I hated math even then and knew her work was much more likely to be correct than mine. And two - the teachers had just handed out parts to the spring musical, Song of the South- without auditions as usual -and even though I wanted desperately to have a real part, they said I was too little and quiet and had to stand on the risers in the back and sing Zippidy do dah with the chorus. And who got the lead part - without auditioning? You guessed it - Lindsay. I remember that I felt bad when she couldn't find her homework and started crying, but it was too late, I had already done it and it didn't occur to me that I could confess. The teacher gave her credit anyway cause, well, it was Lindsay.

6) My favorite all time movie is Goonies. Growing up I always wanted adventure. Treasure hunting, swashbuckling adventure. I used to bury things and draw maps to them. We had 7 acres of land so this game got rather extensive and I am sure there is costume jewelry still buried somewhere out at my Mom's house.

7) I don't care for chocolate ice cream. I am reminded lately how kids adore chocolate ice cream and think vanilla is just lame. I never understood this as a kid. I much prefer vanilla with a little chocolate sauce or strawberries or something added. Chocolate is too sweet and overpowering. Vanilla ice cream for me - especially Amy's Mexican Vanilla. Mmmmmmmm.

So I tag: Andrea', Joni, Ronni, Cici, Elaine, Lynn, and Kris

Yesterday was my first Acupuncture appointment. I decided to see if Eastern Medicine can help me with the vertigo and my insurance actually will pay some of it.

And after one appt I can't really tell you if it works or not. They want to see me twice a week for a bit then they will taper it down. They seem to think they can help me. And they can treat my allergies and cough too. I have had a chronic cough since Sept last year and I am ready for it to go away.

First, I want to say that acupuncture is not the painless, relaxing, zen treatment I expected. Christine, the acupuncturist, pretty much told me that the placement of the needles for my treatment might cause some 'discomfort'. Seems if you go in for relaxation or other mild treatments, you barely feel the needles. But to tackle vertigo and migraines it is a little more extensive.

The first needles she put in my forehead I felt only as a little pinch. Same with my scalp, and belly. But then she started putting them in my legs and it wasn't the needles that hurt, it was the surge that went down my leg that did it. Then several more that didn't hurt and then in the side of my foot, near my big toe. Those hurt. And the couple in my wrists sent electrical funny bone-like surges into my hands and that was not fun. But after a minute it stopped hurting and I was able to relax. Christine commented on my high pain tolerance. Heh. Natural Childbirth, lady. A few painful needle sticks can't compete.

After about 20 minutes of me lying in the dark listening to zen music Christine came in and removed the needles. Then she massaged my forehead with a bit of menthol oil That was really nice.

I am still feeling dizzy and queasy today, so I am not sure about that. But I can report that my cough is better. Not gone, but better. Less tight and itchy in my chest and less powerful. So I don't know. Maybe there is something to this. Or maybe I am just letting people stick needles in my nerves for no reason.

Texas Senate Passes Bill Requiring Abortion Seekers to Hold Newborn during Procedure.
Today in Texas, in an unprecedented move to preserve women's health, the Senate overwhelmingly approved a bill requiring women seeking abortions to hold and cuddle a newborn while undergoing the procedure.

Dufus McCrackhead (R) sponsored the bill saying "Not being required to hold a newborn during abortions has long been a danger to women's health and I am glad today that Texas has taken this great leap forward to protect these poor women."

When asked where the newborns would come from McCrackhead replied "Oh, that's easy. See we take all the unwanted children born to Texas women who can't get CHIP and Medicaid and we distribute them to clinics all over the state. It's all for the common good, see?"

******************************

Here is the real story.

http://www.statesman.com/news/content/region/legislature/stories/05/03/3abortion.html

When will it all end? I am not pro-abortion, but I sure as hell am and will always be pro-choice. But I am really beginning to think we should just overturn Roe v Wade and then women can set up their own secret clinics and seek help in private with less harassment and our government can stop spending inordinate amounts of time and money on this one and only topic. We can then try to focus on electing candidates based on their plans to improve the lives of the children already here instead of saving those who aren't.

Can the Texas Legislature please return to trying to fix the goddam broken school system and property taxes instead of trying to shame women, control their bodies and tell doctors how to practice medicine?

Our oral hygiene plan seems to be working ok so far. Last night, David held him and kept his hands out of the way and I attacked his teeth with the brush and a dab of toddler toothpaste. It seems to me that when I have been trying to get in there, his fighting me has been sorta unsure. Like he doesn't cry, he just fusses and he will open up and let me in and then laugh nervously and push me away. Well last night, with David's help he couldn't stop me and he pretty much giggled the whole time. It seems like it might tickle or just feel funny. He isn't sure about the feeling somehow. And today, I brushed his teeth myself by laying him down on the bathroom counter, leaning over him and holding his hands in mine. Same reaction. Kinda wants me to do it, kinda doesn't. But hopefully with repetition, he will get used to it and accept it as just one of those things we do. Like the carseat.

And I got to thinking how lucky I am after his bath, when I asked him if he was ready for bed and he got himself a toy and headed to his room. I put him in the crib and he said "night night" like I always do. And he was so excited to say it. "Look what I can do, Mommy!" So sweet. And I get to punch out for the day.

Which is good since I had a killer migraine after work today and am still battling the vertigo. Went back to the doc today and she changed my meds. I wonder if I am ever going to be well again. Seems like I have been sick in some way for a year. It is getting old for sure. I wish we could figure out the cause of the vertigo and some way to fix it. If it continues for another week, they want me to see an ENT specialist. I hope it just goes away. I am tired of throwing money at doctors. I know I am lucky to have health insurance and access to care, but it seems like every time I go to the doc it costs me $100 I can't really spare and I am still feeling sick anyway. Blech. Tired of being sick.

But at least I have a sweet toddler who tells me 'night night' and sometimes gives me kisses. Sometimes, when he is feeling particularly generous.

So I am a little less annoyed this morning after my google advice breakdown. It was just for me, the last straw in the parenting advice realm. David and I were discussing it and how it seems that for every toddler problem, the internet has one solution - make a game out of it. Can't get your kid to help pick up his toys - game. Won't eat? Game. Won't dress? Game.

I guess I just got fed up with the pervasive idea that I have to be my son's 24 hour entertainment director instead of his mom. When do we stop playing games and simply enforce acceptable behavior? Why does everything have to be fun - at my expense? I shouldn't have to do things that I don't want to do just so my toddler can have fun doing the things he doesn't want to do. I am an adult and I have earned the right to make my happiness come first. And what would make me happy is to get dressed and brushed and changed quickly and efficiently so that we can get on with the real fun in life -those things outside the realm of hygiene.

Sigh. I guess I am not less annoyed after all.

I defy you, modern parenting!

O.k. So maybe I am a bad mom. What brought this on? Toothbrushing. I am having a difficult time getting Jackson's teeth brushed and barely manage to get the brush in his mouth before he goes into wrestling mode to make it stop. And I have let it go on too long.

This is not what makes me a bad mom. I am good in that I have spent an hour or so googling to get advice on how to brush a physically resistant and determined toddler's teeth. I am a bad mom because I don't like the answer. And I may be unwilling and unable to do what the majority of parents are doing.

The overwhelming advice of parents? "Make it fun!" It seems that twice a day parents of small children are making fun, theatrical, multi-faceted entertainment extravaganzas out of the simple necessity of tooth brushing. And I am not going to farking do it.

I am not exactly sure why I can dance around the living room singing and playing with Jackson but won't do the same to accomplish a hygiene goal. Actually, I am sure why. Because there is play time and there is hygiene time and tooth brushing isn't supposed to be an entertaining endeavor. It is a habit you develop to avoid social and physical pain. And I don't want to make what should be a few minute ritual into another event that must be made fun so that your child will decide to go along with your idea of brushing their teeth. It isn't an option and I am balking at the idea that you must beg, plead and trick your kids into doing what you want them to do.

I don't want to make tooth brushing fun. I just want to make it mandatory and second nature. Do I have to put on the purple dinosaur costume in sacrifice of dental hygiene? I don't think so. Jackson will just have to learn that he doesn't get his way all the time and this is one of those times that, just like getting dressed and diaper changes, he can protest all he wants, but I am still going to do it.

Routine is so important to small children. Tonight I said "Jackson, are you ready to go night night?" His response was to run to the TV, turn it off and head to his room. Just like I do in the morning at nap time. After sesame street and before doodlebops... Morning is time for a bit of TV - Playhouse Disney mostly - after work is an hour or so of outside running around time and evening is bath time. He doesn't watch TV except in the morning, but he knows that turning the TV off is a sleep signal. Or he doesn't want me to search for CSI re-runs all night.

Here I am signing programs as Maid Marian on Saturday. Robin Hood opened well this week/weekend to scores of happy kids. Tuesday and Wednesday were the shows for schools. Local private and pre-schools brought their classes those days and this weekend we opened to the public. Things went much better than I expected after our single dress rehearsal - in which any and all costume/props mishaps that could happen, did. Wigs fell off, keys fell off their key rings at inopportune times and we were just generally distracted by the costumes as most casts are the first time they wear them. I had to adjust my way of moving to accommodate the train of the dress. But I have worn gowns in shows before, so I'd had a little practice with it. Of course, this show involves much more running around than past period pieces I have been in.

But the shows were well attended and well received and I am glad it has turned out so well. But that doesn't mean there aren't parts I sure would like another shot at as the writer. There are a few bits that are simply not funny enough. For instance when Robin Hood comes out and rummages in his bag for a proper disguise, I knew he should pull out a few items that wouldn't work at all. And I didn't spend much time thinking about it as I was on a deadline. So the first things I thought of were (1) a clown wig and (2) groucho nose/glasses and (3) a giant pair of granny panties. I remember at the time that I wrote it that it wasn't really silly enough and that I wanted to go back to it. But during the editing read-thru at my house, no one raised objections to it and I was focusing my re-writes on the things that came up then. So it stayed in as written and now that we have an audience, I realize my initial thoughts were right. It just isn't funny - except the panties, those are funny. Panties are always funny. The rest isn't painful or anything, but I can clearly see how the moment could be improved. I chatted with Elaine a bit about it and she immediately suggested a snorkel and a tutu. Man, I wish I'd workshopped that bit because a snorkel would be much funnier than the groucho glasses. Instead of saying the groucho glasses were too cliche, he could say "I could use this snorkel to swim to the jail where they have Little John..." and the kids could object that there isn't any water. That would be much better. And the tutu could be tiny and wouldn't fit him. Or any number of things. I just wish I could go back and solicit better ideas of unusable disguises for him to pull out of the bag. I am just not happy with the bit as written.

I guess every playwright finds things he or she wished they had written differently. But overall the script is funny and I am ok with it. I will definitely go in for another editing round before I shop it to publishers though. I know what needs tweaked -and I'm not afraid to do it...

The daily CNN Poll today asks "Are campuses more dangerous than other public places?" I voted with the 90 percent that said no. That is my gut instinct. I feel that safety is an illusion and danger in the form of accidents and sickos is always closer than you realize. Not a cheery outlook, I know.

But upon thinking about my answer, I considered whether I would want to be a middle school or high school student today and I have to answer "Hell no!" I think the relative safety I experienced at my small middle-of-nowhere school district were a sort of end of days. Graduated in 94. After Waco. But before Columbine. I don't think I had ever heard of a school shooting while I was there. I never once went to school in fear for my life. I feel lucky. And terrified of what the next 20 years will bring as I think about how best to school my own children. I can only imagine what the families of the dead in Virginia must be going through and I hope against hope I never have to do more than imagine.

I am not a religious person. But I don't discount the possibilities of what may be after we die. And I had a moment while watching the news that I started to imagine the time just after the shooter had taken his own life. I imagined a scene where the souls of the victims stood over the carnage waiting to see what the afterlife held for them. And amongst them came the shooter. Dead himself. What would that moment be like? The victims and the perpetrator all standing as spirits among the carnage together. Waiting. Wonder if they would have anything to say to him. Now that the power of his guns could not be held over them, now that they were all on equal footing. What would they do? It would have to be a moment of pure honesty, him to them and them to him. I wonder if they would ask him why. Or if it simply wouldn't matter to them at all.

Immediately, my thoughts turn to theatre. And how, as in The Laramie Project, theatre is uniquely suited to exploring such powerful and painful questions. My mind is buzzing.

I went to a swanky party this weekend as Andrea's date. It was a benefit for Planet Cancer, a group that helps 20/30 somethings who have cancer. The theme was pink flamingoes and they handed out feather boas at the door to everyone. It was held at a penthouse loft on 5th Street. Probably a $2 or $3 million dollar home. But it was one of those places that is so swanky and trendy that they didn't bother to finish out the place and called it done. The cement floors were nicely stained, but the concrete pillars here and there and the fact that there weren't doors between rooms or walls that reached the ceiling was a little too modern for me. It seemed ultra-cool and coldly unlivable. It would be nice to have the rooftop patio and the view of downtown, but other than that it felt like a really really nice, modern hotel suite, and not someplace that anyone actually called home.

The place was jam-packed when we got there and I could tell I was not going to be comfortable enough to relax, have lots to drink and party with everyone. But I knew it was going to be fabulous people watching. A friend and I sat watching the impeccably dressed social elite and tried to decide who did what for a living. It was probably the best people watching I've had in years. And though the people were obviously hipper and/or younger and much richer than me, I didn't feel out of place or anything. Plus there was an open bar all night, so it isn't hard to feel confident in yourself when you are the only one sober. And my group behaved pretty well, even though there was much to drink. Though Andrea' and I did get our picture taken in the swimming pool of the bathtub for fun. And the crowd kept inciting us to 'kiss! kiss!' - you can imagine. And the drunken Andrea' puckered right up and there is photo proof that I took her up on the invite. But you won't see that here.

She didn't even remember the bathtub scene and called me the next day when she downloaded the pics. "We kissed in the bathtub? OMG!" I assured her there was no tongue involved and nothing remotely 'girls gone wild'. Heh, All I could think at the time was about the Miss Nevada who just got canned for such pics ending up on the internet. Wonder what I will get fired from. The PTA in 8 years?

The title of this blog is "Biggest load of shit I've heard all month" or "How many times can I use the word 'menstruate' in one post?".

I was not very seriously researching amenorreah - when really skinny women stop menstruating - because a friend asked me if I knew how little body fat you'd have to have to stop menstruating. Her daughter asked her and we were casually discussing it. So I looked around online and found this guy.

Ron Brown - not a doctor. A fitness trainer "who doesn't have an inch of flab on his body" believes that these female athletes don't menstruate, not because they don't have enough body fat for their body to function correctly, but because they are healthier than the rest of us. He postulates that female athletes with amenorrhea can get pregnant because they haven't really stopped ovulating as the lack of menstruation would suggest. Then he says this:


"One proposed explanation is that the extra blood that drains out of the uterus following ovulation is reabsorbed back UP into a fit woman's general circulation. On the other hand, in a relatively unfit woman with poorer pelvic circulation, less pelvic muscle tone, and more pelvic weight from stored abdominal body fat, extra blood draining from the uterus following ovulation hemorrhages DOWN into the vaginal canal. Pathologists point out that hemorrhaging in any part of the body is never a sign of a healthy and normal physiological process.

Could it be that the ovulating fit woman with less vaginal blood flow associated with periods is actually healthier and more normal physiologically? If so, this would override any apparent need for a woman to raise her body fat level in order to stay healthy."


Ok. So really all of us menstruating women of the world, past, present and future - why, we're just fat and out of shape. Otherwise we would DEFY the laws of fertility and gravity and use our toned abs to push the menstrual blood back UP into our systems. What a fucking moron. We don't menstruate - we hemorrhage. Thanks, Mister Ron Brown - Not a Doctor. You really showed me the error of my menstruating ways. "Pathologists point out"...my ass!

http://www.bodyfatguide.com/Amenorrhea.htm

I went to the doctor today. I have been having symptoms of vertigo since Friday, sometimes really bad. And at first I just assumed that it was because I stopped taking the Pamelor that I have been on to prevent headaches. But it has been 12 days since I stopped taking it and this is just too much. I confirmed that with my headache doctor who said that though people do sometimes experience withdrawal from stopping cold turkey, it would have started within a day and would be done by now. So I went to the GP to see if they could help me.

Sometimes I think that going to the doc is pointless unless you are really really sick, and then it is best to just go to the ER. My visit today didn't change my mind any. The ADC clinic by my house is wonderful about getting you in same day and they are usually not very busy when you get there. But the nurse had me diagnosed before we got in the room. I am going to steal a construct from Travis to tell you how it went.


Nurse: So what are you here for?
Me: I'm dizzy and queasy and feel like I am going to fall over most of the time.
Nurse: Hmph, under a hundred pounds. No wonder. Are you eating?
Me: Yes.
Nurse: What. What did you eat today?
Me: Um, bowl of cereal...chicken sandwich for lunch...
Nurse: Mmmhmm
Me: Goddammit I am not anorexic, I'm dizzy!

Ok, so I didn't say that. I let her just assume that the anorexic girl doesn't feel good and just needs to eat. She must have said something to the doc though, because he asked me about my weight loss. My chart has me a few -like 2 pounds- heavier on my last visit. He said 'Are you trying to lose weight?" Noooo! I'm dizzy. I'm in a show, I'm busy. I often have no appetite. When I do make myself something to eat, my kid eats it half the time. But I am not anorexic.

Of course, denying it does no good. Just like if you ever say to someone "I am not an alcoholic," pretty much everyone assumes that you are. But dammit, really. I do not push food around on my plate to make it look like I have eaten. I don't lie and say I've eaten when I have not. I don't stuff my face and throw up. I do not have a eating disorder. I have vertigo. The doc even got around to deciding that. I think the fact that he was like a 100 pounds himself helped. He knows that sometimes being small just means that you are small. And being dizzy is just dizzy.

I don't know if I have vertigo or not. He did this head tilt thing on me to see if my eyes moved in a certain way, but they didn't. He decided that I have it anyway. It seemed the appointment only consisted of (a) rule out anorexia (b) rule out recent head trauma (c) diagnose vertigo and if it doesn't get better in 2 weeks look for something else.

He called in a prescription for meclazine - the standard. So I guess I will get that and see if it helps. I just am trying to get off of all the drugs so that we can thing about sraby #2. The thought of taking another pill is off-putting. But maybe it will only be for a few days.

When Mommy is away....

Here is the email my husband sent out to several family and friends while I was out at rehearsal the other night:

"Jackson discovered the smoker opens today and decided to play with the ashes. I suppose I was supposed to stop him, but ran and got the camera instead. Kind of unfortunate, as it doesn't show how nice and smudgey his face really got. Marsha goes to rehearsal and we play with ashes and rusty iron doors. Yay! David"

He even included several pics of their not very healthy adventure. Enjoy.

Been meaning to do this one from Julie.

Wedding Meme:

1. Where/How did you meet? At Sam Bass Theatre auditions for "Chicago" the original stage play, not the musical. Coincidentally (or not) I met my best friend and several more of my core friends on the same day. February, 2001.

2. How long have you known each other?: That would be a little over 6 years.

3. How long after you met did you start dating?: I was married to someone else at the time, so my attraction to him was not an option. We started an 'innocent' email friendship during rehearsals for Chicago in March. Then in May, when it became obvious to us that it wasn't so innocent, I went home to my husband and he started dating someone else (someone who is today, a dear friend to us both). David and I did not communicate at all for almost 3 months. I was trying to stay married to my troubled alcoholic husband and he was trying not to dwell on the married woman. And I didn't want to stick my nose into what could have been a long term relationship for him. But then he and his girlfriend broke up that August. I emailed him my condolences on the very day I found out and we instantly picked up where we left off, all illusions of 'just being friends' gone for good.

4. How long did you date before you were engaged?: 1 year and 4 months. Got engaged on Friday the 13th of December 2002. Got home from work to a house full of flowers. He'd bought HEB out of pink and red carnations and had them in vases, and mugs all over the house. He'd cooked dinner, steak and shrimp, and even bought wine, though he doesn't drink. After dinner, he brought out the ring and asked me to marry him. It was amazing. Then we had fifteen minutes to get to the theatre for call. We were both in "Annie", as in little orphan. And we went on that night as usual. But what a great day it was!

Interestingly, until he brought out the ring I had no clue he was going to propose that night. You'd think the flowers would have tipped me off, but they didn't. See, the same day, my Christmas present for him was delivered to the house, sans gift-wrapping. And I thought he just felt bad for ruining yet another surprise. He is the man that can't be surprised btw - nother story...

5. How long was your engagement?:11 months

6. How long have you been married?: 3+ years

7. What is your anniversary?: October 25, 2003

8. How many people came to your wedding reception: About 80

9. What kind of cake did you serve? Honestly, those things are so unimportant to me I don't remember. I remember how they were decorated, but I don't remember the flavors, fillings. Whatever Andrea' told me to do, that is what we did.

The bride's cake was square, though and two tiers stacked on top of one another, but not in the same direction. And there were flowers on it. Very pretty. The groom's cake was chocolate and we did have the comedy/tragedy masks on top. Andrea' and David drew it for the decorator.

10. Where was your wedding?: The Inn at Salado. They had a tiny old chapel moved onto their grounds and restored and it is right next to their pavilion where the reception was. It was an open-air pavilion when we were there, but they have since enclosed it. I liked it open better.

11. What did you serve for your meal?: Um..nother one I can't quite remember. Andrea'? What did you tell me to get? Whatever she said to get. Turkey breast, I think and mashed potatoes and veggies and rolls and stuff. I didn't eat. I can't eat when I am nervous or emotional or there is too much going on. But Mom and Andrea' took care of me. There is a picture of me sucking down a slimfast in my wedding gown before the ceremony. Can't eat, but don't want to pass out = Slimfast and straw. Force fed if necessary, right Mom?

12. How many people were in your bridal party?: 3 bridesmaids, 3 Groomsmen and 1 Groomswoman. She wore a black gown of her choosing, though I tried to talk her into a tuxedo. She looked fabulous, though.

13. Are you still friends with them all?: Yes

14. Did your spouse cry during the ceremony?: Yup. I was fine till he started crying. Then it was all over.

15. Most special moment of your wedding day?: Hmmm. We decided to take most of the pictures before the wedding so as not to waste any Guy Forsyth time afterwards. But Joni made sure that David and I had a special moment before since we wouldn't have that special 'reveal' monent at the ceremony. When I was dressed and ready, everyone left the little cottage and Joni sent him in. We hugged and cried a little and had our time alone, then we went out for pictures.

Also, dancing to Guy Forsyth singing "Children of Jack" for our first dance. Which we snuck in when no one was looking. I am uncomfortable with too much ceremonial attention focused on me, so instead of waiting for someone to announce a first dance and draw attention to us, Guy started singing a song I loved and I said, "Let's dance." And it was nice. Leanne had to run for Joni who was inside photographing the cake, since I hadn't given her any warning. Sorry, Joni. That is just how I had to do it. Uncontrived. And you got great pictures of it anyway.

16. Any funny moments?: The 50 person dance-line started by Kyle and Andrea' was pretty awesome.

18. Where did you go on your honeymoon?: New Orleans. Glad we saw it pre-Katrina

19. If you were to do your wedding over, what would you change? Hmmm. Not sure. It was pretty bad-ass. Kyle performed the ceremony, which we wrote. My dearest friends and family were there. Guy Forsyth played a kick-ass couple of sets for us. Free photography, florist, and officiant. We spent less than $7k and it was at the perfect location. Weather was great. Sunny then got chilly that evening.

Oh! I know! At the end of the reception, while David and I were on a carriage ride through Salado, Andrea' filled the huge Jacuzzi tub in our cottage for us. Except she put in like half a bottle of bubble bath. And ask yourself what happens to bubbles when you turn on Jacuzzi jets. Yup. We got back, got in the tub together and proceeded to be smothered by Andrea's well-intentioned bubbles. It took us five minutes to find the off switch in the mass of bubbles pouring from the tub. It was fun, but not quite the romantic ending you expect. So we got dressed and Crashed Kyle and Dave's room for some champagne and the left-over food the staff had wrapped up for us.

Heh, when Kyle and I went to the kitchen to heat the food, there was a group of little old ladies playing cards there who wanted to know if our wedding - Mine and Kyle's - had gone well.

21. What side of the bed do you sleep on?: Right. Even though I believe that is traditionally the man's side. Is it? Or am I just making that up?

22. What size is your bed?: King! Must have a King.

23. Greatest strength as a couple?: We know how good we have it. So know not to screw it up.

24. Greatest challenge as a couple?: Like Julie, I am going to have to go with gaming. The amount of computer gaming that goes on in this house can be staggering. I get jealous, because he is playing online with other people from all over the world. I sometimes whine, 'You have just spent 8 straight hours with a group of strangers and I have been by myself all day.' Whiiiiinne. But since Jackson came, Daddy is forced to stop gaming so often cause Jackson requires his attention. So I guess that it it. He games too much, I nag him too much.


25. Who literally pays the bills?: Me. Online banking is the greatest tool. Due to really bad experiences during my first marriage, I have to know how much money is there, what it is being spent on and that bills are actually being paid. I have to do it myself. And that suits David just fine.

26. What is your song? Don't really have one. We feel special about Guy Forsyth, though.

27. What did you dance your first dance to?: "Children of Jack"

28. Describe your wedding dress: Two-piece - floor length skirt with tiny bell train and a strapless, beaded corset bodice. On clearance, discontinued and on sale from there. $245. Yup, something I am so proud of. My gorgeous gown, $245. Don't ask how much alterations were though. They kind of fleece you there.

29. What kind of flowers did you have at your wedding?:Another proud aspect. I went to Sam's with Lynn, theatre friend and florist. We bought $75 worth of bundled flowers in fall colors. Baby roses, and such. And that morning, Lynn and Tara created the bouquets and boutonnieres we needed and they were gorgeous! $75, eat that wedding florists!

30. Are your wedding bands engraved? What do they say?: David's is. It says my name and our wedding date.

So married friends, tell us about your wedding. And friends of the same-sex persuasion, tell us about what your wedding would be like if the man ever decided to acknowledge your absolute right to engage in such legal, binding, and pro-family contracts.

My baby broke my slinky.

I have always loved Slinky's. They are kind of like stress balls or the like. I sit watching a TV show and just roll it back and forth making a soothing 'whoosh, whoosh' sound and it relaxes me. Knowing this, my dad usually gets me a new slinky every few years. I like the plain old grey metal slinky the best - cause it makes the best 'whoosh' sound. But I have also had the dual color plastic ones, the little tiny pocket kind, and I also have one covered in fabric with a snake head - it's a snakey, I guess.

Well, as inevitably happens with first-time parents, all of our toys have become Jackson's toys. My husband has way more toys than I do. I do mean toys literally. Rubber chickens, little figures from kinder eggs, matchbox cars, etc. So my slinky now resides in Jackson's toy box. A bent and mangled little mess that no longer makes the relaxing 'whoosh whoosh' sound. And as we have a kid now, I cannot count on my dad to buy me any more toys. So I am guessing my slinky days are over.

The sacrifices once makes for parenthood. Sigh.

Last night's rehearsal was good. I think I finally turned a corner and have a grip on what I need to be doing. Andrea' has always been pretty clear on what she wanted - bigger, more character, more interesting - especially in the opening monologue. But I simply couldn't bring that out with the character and the lines as written. When I wrote it, I unconsciously shaped Marian as my child's eye saw her. Lady-like, well-spoken, elegant. And I couldn't take the monologue written for that character and apply it to this big, brazen and heroic character that Andrea' wanted. It took me a good week or so to figure out why I couldn't just give her what she wanted, but once I figured it out, with some key re-writes, I was able to get there last night. I still have a little ways to go perfecting the changes, but the hardest part is over. Whew. Anyone who says that children's theatre isn't difficult has never tried it. And it is worse when you are working against the writing. Good thing I did write it though. Being able to change my lines at will is a great perk.

On an interesting note, having your best friend as your director can complicate things a little bit. I don't have a problem taking direction from her as I respect her expertise in this area very much. But I know her. I mean, I really know her. And I can pretty much read every nuance of her body language and her words. Not just what she says but what she doesn't say. And during my learning process and my character difficulties, I felt her worry and her nervous energy in a way I am sure she didn't mean to happen. And it made it harder for me to relax and get into the groove. I t made me clam up a bit. And doubt myself - granted, I always doubt myself at the beginning of a rehearsal process. But I just felt uneasy and wondered if doing this show myself was the right thing to do.

But last night as we finished rehearsal, Andrea' came up to say how much improved I was and I could just feel the relief radiating off of her. So in my head I thought, "OK, what gives?" My character wasn't there before, but it wasn't that bad. Even at my worst I don't completely suck. And Andrea' knows damned well, from doing so many shows with me, that I am an actor that needs a rehearsal process to get a character right. She knows I eventually snap into it and take off running.

So I called her on it and she had to admit that she had been worried, but that it had nothing to do with me. She wouldn't say anymore, but I have to assume that there is some kind of political pressure afoot. I kind of expected a bit of that anyway. You can't put a non-company actor in a key role in the play she wrote, which is directed by her best friend, and not expect there to be a bit of political fallout. I have been involved with enough theatres to accept this fact as given and not worth worrying about.

And Andrea' never meant for me to know. And of course she hasn't told me anything about it. But a great friendship is like a marriage. You can't come home with whisky on your breath on not expect your wife to smell it.

But all is good. I have made my usual overnight snap into the character and can spend the next two weeks improving it with the help from my talented director. It is gonna be a great show.