Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Giraffe Encounter!
Saturday Brian, my mom and I went to the Detroit Zoo to feed the giraffes. Brian and I got there very early and lined up--we were worried when the large group of kids wearing matching shirts went in because there is a daily limit to the amount of tickets available for the Giraffe Encounter. Obviously, we were successful.It was a lot of walking even though we took the train to the back of the zoo. I was ok later, but Brian had very sore feet!
Detroit Zoo Photos
Labels: Brian, detroit, mom, zoo
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Having Solved the "Skullet" Problem...
Do you think they'll let me wear my hair like this to work?
Brian and I went to the Detroit Festival of the Arts last Saturday, and went to see the performance art group "Osadia." They do creative hair-sculpture onstage to techno versions of classical music. We saw them a few years ago and found them highly entertaining, so this time we made sure to get good seats.
When the performers take the stage, they select audience members. They communicate non-verbally, which can cause a little confusion if multiple people think they've been picked.
I got picked first! The performer wearing red was a man. He looked around the crowd for his first subject; people were raising their hands anxiously like Hermione Grainger in potions class. I tentative put up my hand and he pointed and nodded at me right away. When I whipped off my bandanna, displaying an obviously bald head, the crowd cheered. Peruse the photo album and you'll see a sequence of events leading to my ending up with a fabulous "hair" style and rad makeup. I had great fun the rest of the day. People came up to me telling me how great I looked, and we got stopped several times so people could take pictures.
Driving home was particularly funny, because I kept trying to get the other drivers' attention. It is amazing how many people just don't look around when they're driving. An older lady did notice, and looked at me disapprovingly. A woman maybe in her 20's saw me and tried conspicuously not to look my way or stare. And another guy was definitely checking out the bizarreness via his sideview mirror, but nobody else looked. (It was a long drive, too.)
Oh well. I have the pictures. And the memory of how much fun that day was.
I went to see my general practitioner today, who was of the opinion--after thumping on my belly like it was a ripe watermelon--that I seem to have a lot of air in there, and that regular meals will help. I wear thigh-high compression stockings that look sort of normal in the morning, but then by the afternoon I have muffin-tops on both of my legs. Food is still very gross to me (except for the Longhorn steak my dad treated us to last night...I was going to link to their website, but music starts playing right away so I opted not to. It's http://www.longhornsteakhouse.com if you really want to go there and listen to the song) so I'm seeing a nutritionist on Tuesday. I went in for I.V. hydration last week and may do so again if I'm still feeling like a raisin in the sun...
I also went back to work last week, found out interesting things about my work this week and am wondering if it's too soon to go on vacation!
Brian and I went to the Detroit Festival of the Arts last Saturday, and went to see the performance art group "Osadia." They do creative hair-sculpture onstage to techno versions of classical music. We saw them a few years ago and found them highly entertaining, so this time we made sure to get good seats.
When the performers take the stage, they select audience members. They communicate non-verbally, which can cause a little confusion if multiple people think they've been picked.
I got picked first! The performer wearing red was a man. He looked around the crowd for his first subject; people were raising their hands anxiously like Hermione Grainger in potions class. I tentative put up my hand and he pointed and nodded at me right away. When I whipped off my bandanna, displaying an obviously bald head, the crowd cheered. Peruse the photo album and you'll see a sequence of events leading to my ending up with a fabulous "hair" style and rad makeup. I had great fun the rest of the day. People came up to me telling me how great I looked, and we got stopped several times so people could take pictures.
Driving home was particularly funny, because I kept trying to get the other drivers' attention. It is amazing how many people just don't look around when they're driving. An older lady did notice, and looked at me disapprovingly. A woman maybe in her 20's saw me and tried conspicuously not to look my way or stare. And another guy was definitely checking out the bizarreness via his sideview mirror, but nobody else looked. (It was a long drive, too.)
Oh well. I have the pictures. And the memory of how much fun that day was.
Slight Medical Update
I went to see my general practitioner today, who was of the opinion--after thumping on my belly like it was a ripe watermelon--that I seem to have a lot of air in there, and that regular meals will help. I wear thigh-high compression stockings that look sort of normal in the morning, but then by the afternoon I have muffin-tops on both of my legs. Food is still very gross to me (except for the Longhorn steak my dad treated us to last night...I was going to link to their website, but music starts playing right away so I opted not to. It's http://www.longhornsteakhouse.com if you really want to go there and listen to the song) so I'm seeing a nutritionist on Tuesday. I went in for I.V. hydration last week and may do so again if I'm still feeling like a raisin in the sun...
I also went back to work last week, found out interesting things about my work this week and am wondering if it's too soon to go on vacation!
Labels: baldness, Brian, Dad, detroit, Dr. Collier, hair, nutritionist
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Story Corps
Brian and I went to downtown Detroit today to record an interview with Story Corps. Brian was the interviewer, and I responded to his questions, which were primarily about my illness and what I see for the future. Our session, forty minutes long, was recorded and will be sent to the Library of Congress.
What's a little bit embarrassing is that we got a Story Corps interview with something called the "Griot Initiative," which is dedicated to recording the stories of African Americans for posterity, with a special emphasis on World War II veterans and people involved in the Civil Rights struggle. The interviews in Detroit will also go to the Charles H. Wright Museum of African-American History. We don't exactly fit the sought-after demographic for the Griot Initiative, but were advised to come to the appointment anyway.
Brian had a list of questions which he prepared in advance based on suggestions from the Story Corps site. At first he asked me who the most influential person in my life was, what my most memorable moment with him was, and then he asked me about what I see in the future.
I don't think the sound engineer was prepared for what he heard.
I don't know how much "future" I will have. I certainly don't see children in my future, or adoption. I talked about being diagnosed years ago, how shocking it was, how "lucky" I had been told I was, and about the fact that even before we met I had told him over the phone that I was healed and would not have to worry about cancer again. When I got my official diagnosis and had to tell my family, I called my mom from the parking lot at the doctor's office, and then went home to tell Brian I had essentially lied to him before we met. I was afraid I was going home to tell him news that would make him pack up and leave; I'm not sure I would have blamed him.
He tells me not to worry that I "lied."
We talked about how afraid we both were when I was hospitalized. I remember having a conversation with my mom (at this point Brian was looking for apartments without stairs to move into) about how I always thought that when the time came to move out of my apartment, it would be to move into a house or a condo, and that it didn't seem that signing a 30-year mortgage would be possible. My horizon loomed very close and my life today was unimaginable to me then, wracked with pain, unable to walk, and in a hospital bed surrounded by bins to vomit into.
I am happy to be wrong. I'm happy to feel better and am happy to be less afraid that I will die soon. I have to make it at least nine more years because Brian has promised me an anniversary diamond.
We have a copy of the interview on CD. The recording engineer was very moved; he told us that both of his parents have cancer, so he at least knows what it's like to be the other person in that situation. He also pointed out that our being a part of the Griot Initiative, well, it didn't matter that we are white because what we talked about was really universal.
I wish cancer wasn't universal and that it didn't touch on almost everybody's lives.
What's a little bit embarrassing is that we got a Story Corps interview with something called the "Griot Initiative," which is dedicated to recording the stories of African Americans for posterity, with a special emphasis on World War II veterans and people involved in the Civil Rights struggle. The interviews in Detroit will also go to the Charles H. Wright Museum of African-American History. We don't exactly fit the sought-after demographic for the Griot Initiative, but were advised to come to the appointment anyway.
Brian had a list of questions which he prepared in advance based on suggestions from the Story Corps site. At first he asked me who the most influential person in my life was, what my most memorable moment with him was, and then he asked me about what I see in the future.
I don't think the sound engineer was prepared for what he heard.
I don't know how much "future" I will have. I certainly don't see children in my future, or adoption. I talked about being diagnosed years ago, how shocking it was, how "lucky" I had been told I was, and about the fact that even before we met I had told him over the phone that I was healed and would not have to worry about cancer again. When I got my official diagnosis and had to tell my family, I called my mom from the parking lot at the doctor's office, and then went home to tell Brian I had essentially lied to him before we met. I was afraid I was going home to tell him news that would make him pack up and leave; I'm not sure I would have blamed him.
He tells me not to worry that I "lied."
We talked about how afraid we both were when I was hospitalized. I remember having a conversation with my mom (at this point Brian was looking for apartments without stairs to move into) about how I always thought that when the time came to move out of my apartment, it would be to move into a house or a condo, and that it didn't seem that signing a 30-year mortgage would be possible. My horizon loomed very close and my life today was unimaginable to me then, wracked with pain, unable to walk, and in a hospital bed surrounded by bins to vomit into.
I am happy to be wrong. I'm happy to feel better and am happy to be less afraid that I will die soon. I have to make it at least nine more years because Brian has promised me an anniversary diamond.
We have a copy of the interview on CD. The recording engineer was very moved; he told us that both of his parents have cancer, so he at least knows what it's like to be the other person in that situation. He also pointed out that our being a part of the Griot Initiative, well, it didn't matter that we are white because what we talked about was really universal.
I wish cancer wasn't universal and that it didn't touch on almost everybody's lives.
Labels: Brian, condominium, detroit, hospital, mom, story corps
