Kerfuffle

September 21 marked two years since my transplant. I've been meaning to write since then. I like to write on these important milestone days because I like the way the dates look when the entry gets posted. But, alas, I missed it on the 21st. So, October 3rd will just have to do.  I've always liked October and I'm very glad to see another one. Isaac was born in October. And so were Allison and Kaethe. I just love Libras. What's not to like?

But we did make September 21 a very special day this year. We drove out to Wales and we got another puppy! She's the same breed as the lovely Laila but a sweet apricot color instead of Laila's beautiful basic black. Her name is Scarlett, but we call her Kerfuffle.  She causes a real stir wherever she goes; serious outpourings of love.  She's twelve weeks now and she sleeps a ton.  She will pass out right in the middle of a conversation.  Today, after a little bit of mini tennis ball chasing she lay down in the middle of a soccer pitch to take a nap. It made her look so tiny! Shes so little she can get up the stairs but wouldn't dare try to get down. She just sits at the top and gives a little squeak for assistance.  I can't yet leave her at home without a human very long so I carry her around London in a scarf tied around me like a baby sling.  I think I am attachment parenting my dog!

The week we got Scarlett I think was the quickest week I've ever lived. You know how some weeks go so fast and others don't? That one hurtled forward like a comet! It was almost scary. I feel panicky when days go super fast.  Lately I've been resenting sleep. I know it's probably the thing I need the most, but it just annoys me. What a waste of time! Tonight, as I was putting Ari to bed and reading him The BFG, by Roald Dahl, the giant talks about just this! Apparently giants don't need much sleep.  He was ridiculing humans for sleeping our lives away. He said that by the time you're 50 you've slept for 20 years. According to him, that would make me only 30, and Ari four. We laughed. But there's such a part of me that wishes it were so. I want all my years back! Which obviously is impossible, so instead, I live in this, "Quick! I wanna do everything!" state of being.

I was thinking of concluding my blog today. I don't write in it very often anymore. And my original hopeful goal was to end it after I met my donor. Now that I've met Monique, in my mind, I still feel baffled. Still overwhelmed but what happened to me. To us. My family and friends. And I'm still stunned by this happy ending. So much so, that I don't think I could gracefully end this blog today. I think there's still more to process, still more to learn. There's still some more thinking I must do, and thanking I must do. So, for today, I am just gong to say, "Welcome Scarlett". And, "Wake-up baby girl! There's no time for sleep!"

California Dreaming

It was dreamier than I could have imagined. But at 2:45am in London I'm so jetlagged. I'm not dreaming at all!!!

I'm "sleeping" in the living room so I can toss and turn and grumble all I want and only bother the poor dog, while the rest of the house snoozes away. I don't get it! How are they sleeping? Tonight I fell asleep at 9. I was bumping into walls all day and I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. But then woke up at 10:30. Done! Clearly I need more than 90 minutes of sleep. I'm going to be more horribly bitchy tomorrow than I was today! Oh no!

But I do like laying here "dreaming" about California (where it is 6:00 in the evening, by the way).
I got such a wave of sadness sitting on the plane in San Francisco waiting for take off. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to leave Monique.  Meeting her was so special. She's a nicer person than I could even have imagined. And believe me, I imagined she was. She did NOT have to donate her bone marrow to me.  It took general anesthesia and doctors digging into both her hips for tons of bone marrow for some imaginary person in need somewhere in the world. Not everyone would do that!  Literally.  When I tell people about it, many have said, "Yikes! I wouldn't do that!"


I know if Monique reads this she'll be embarrassed. (Sorry honey, but I just have to gush about you).  But she's simply a good person. Which isn't always so simple! She cares about people. All people. It's just so clear.  It's funny. She used to do intake in an emergency room. And it makes sense, because when you speak with her she has a clear grip on many things medical. But she's also so reassuring in her demeanor. If I was being wheeled in to an ER I'd be so glad to see her face at the front desk.

I know when we first hugged at a pretty beachside restaurant in Santa Monica there were a lot of tears. My friend Susanne said it was so emotional it was like being at a wedding or a childbirth. In a way I feel like Monique gave birth to me. And I would walk down the aisle with her anytime if she'd let me. (Too bad we're both taken). But I feel committed for life to her, just like I do my family and friends. I kept saying to her, "there's no way for you to understand what you did for me, for us, you saved my family!" And she replied, "Ok! Then just live a good life!" I promised I would. I hope that my friends and my family and the party on the beach sufficiently overwhelmed her. I hope it was a big giant hug from us: my handsome grateful family, my gorgeous friends, my beautiful cousins, my extraordinary aunt, that Monique will always remember.

I was so pleased that she accepted an invite to spend the day at Universal and come to a second party in her honor that next evening. I hope it means maybe she liked us too.  We had a fun time. Screaming on the Terminator ride, watching the kids swim in the pool, talking about schools and life and raising 7 year olds. Sipping red wine.

It's difficult being so far away.  I feel super homesick for everyone.
I will now end this 4:00am GMT blog entry. Cuddle with the dog and hope for rest. London is wet and balmy right now. Tomorrow I will head into it. Leading a good life. Thank you Monique. I love you.

The Best Days of My Life

The day I married Andy.
The day Isaac was born.
The day Ari was born.
The day Marty Tallman got me back into remission enough to have a transplant.
The day Sergio Giralt told me he could transplant me.
The day of my stem-cell transplant.
The day I came home after six months in New York.
The day Isaac was a Bar Mitzvah,
Yesterday; the day I met Monique, my stem-cell donor, and her daughter Aneeya.

My hope is that I'll quickly feel less gob-smacked, that I'll be able to process this full full circle, and eloquently write about it. Soon.

Today is the Day

August 10, 2014
Monique is on her way. We are waiting for her here in Santa Monica. Santa MONIQUE-A!!!  I had to get her a sweatshirt that said "LIFEGUARD". I know it's corny but that's what she is!
This trip here has been so life affirming. Surrounded by Kaethe, Allison, Susanne and my family. Walking on the beach. Everyone healthy, running, breathing, drumming, surfing. Laughing. Loving.
I raise my glass to life. To opportunities taken. To obstacles overcome. To family. To friends. To the power of love. To Monique.

Bridge

So excited. On my way. JetBlue to LA. I'm not sure what to do with myself. We're heading toward a giant convergence of love on this trip. The kids and I had the comforting start to our whirlwind vacation by going to Bridgehampton to stay with Andrea and her family for a week. We basked in her generosity and humor and had a great time. The Hamptons are always reassuring to me, I have such pleasant and abundant memories. At the end of each summer, while I was growing up, my parents would rent a buggy wooden house in Amagansett and we would luxuriate on the beach and buy sunflowers from the outdoor market. The sun was always so golden and the shadows were long. We would spend afternoons rolling around the roads taking in all the fascinating modern houses made from what looked like driftwood. I could still, easily, spend hours doing that. Except now, of course, a lot of those houses are replaced by much bigger, much fancier digs. But despite all the changes, traveling to Long Island will always comfort me. There's nothing like my high school  memories of being stuck in traffic onthe way to Jones Beach. Having in depth conversations with people in other cars, dead stopped on the Long Island Expressway traffic.

The plan in LA is to meet up with Kaethe, Allison, Susanne and Jenny. As well as Aunt Dee, and my cousins Adam and David and their families. We're going to have a lovely beach party on Sunday for Monique and her family. I just have a feeling she's going to be the coolest person I've ever met.  I mean cool in terms of clear in her thoughts and beliefs. Clear in what she knows is important.  It's not that this is so uncommon, but it can certainly be rare when you're in your early 30's. Which she is. I have so much respect for her.  Somebody taught her at a young age to approach life with a lot of love. And I love that! Maybe there's a gene for it and it'll rub off on me!

An Invisible Sign

I'm so glad I did the 5K for Race For Life. They raise money for Cancer Research UK. I was alone amongst this packed crowd of women in hot pink. Leggings, wigs. T-shirts, tutus. Everything hot pink. I was meant to run with a friend but she hurt her ankle. And then, clutzy me, I trip and fall over a seemingly invisible free standing sign in Paris, and fractured my elbow. Whoops! I was walking with Ari next to the Paris Plage, which is a long sandy area they bring in during summer that stretches alongside the Seine for people to play in. It's so great.. There were giant beach chairs whole families could fit in, fabulous large acoustic bands with crowds around them and plenty of sunshine. Then, just as we were passing a 125 anniversary commemorative model of the Eiffel Tower  built out of 324 red lacquered bistros chairs, I guess I was so distracted, I went down. Landed straight on my left arm and felt a slight pop in my elbow. It was like my lower arm bashed into my upper arm! I remember seeing these two cute teeny kids on scooters as I was falling and I hope I didn't yell out anything profane. Ari said I didn't... I opened my eyes, and there were those two cute little kids, staring at me. I said, "Hi! You're so cute!" They were American and their parents quickly offered help. But oddly, I was fine.  I could totally move my arm! So we wandered on. Yet the next day my arm couldn't straighten very well and after a brush with a few handsome French doctors I was told it was fractured and I was given the chicest sling on the planet to wear for 3-6 weeks. It looks like a Baby Bjorn. I think I might look like I gave birth to my arm.

So, was I going to walk this 5K on my own with a fractured elbow? I thought about it all week long. And I left the decision to the very very last minute. I needed to be in Hyde Park Sunday morning at 11:00am. I called a cab at 10:00 and I was right on time. This was a race to help people suffering with cancer. How could I let an elbow stop me? That's just not a good reason. So when I got there my favorite part was writing on my back plaque whom I was running for.  I wrote: "I am running for my mom, my sister, my dad, my Uncle Gary. For my extremely supportive family and for Monique. My stem cell donor!"

Tonight I write before I leave for NY to be at the beach with friends. And in one week we leave for LA, city of angels, to meet my angel, Monique! I love this story. I love the way this story ends. It's a really really good one. I think it's a hopeful story. And it's a story about good people. Monique did not have to do any of this. She has NO idea who I am. But that didn't matter to her. This is a pure example of generosity. I can only repay her by having a good life. And I find the challenge absolutely exilorating.

Wings!

I grew up during Charlie's Angels. During Farrah Fawcett's Charlie's Angels. I fully admit that she was by far my favorite.  So pretty and blond and soft-spoken. But you could tell Charlie really respected her and she just looked so great with a gun. Or maybe it was just all about the hair...

From 1976-1980 she was THE star. (At least in my eyes).  From my early Junior High School days, all I wanted was WINGS...I was obsessed with it.  I tried so many things. I'd blow dry my thin, fly-away, twelve year old hair until it became all burnt out looking and then I'd curling iron the front until I looked like I had two pieces of corn on my forehead. And then I'd go to school like that.  Here's a shout out to anyine who was friends with me: "Thank You!"

 I'd worry about my wings everyday, knowing that it was an absolute fail, but that there was nothing I could do.  I had completely uncooperative, split-endy, mind-of-it's-own hair.  And of course there were the girls that DID have wings.  I remember being awe-struck by them.  One girl in particular: not only did she have wings, she had fabulous lip gloss and rode horses.  How on earth could anyone keep up with that?

Well, turn the clock forward 39 years. I am so proud!! After countless rounds of chemo and losing my hair countless times, I have been rewarded with not only good health, but WINGS!!! And I just HAD to post a picture to show off.  It's a miracle! (I'm referring to the good health, of course...)