Janet's Blog

I am slowly tapering of the decadron, which has been keeping me up at night and has made me extremely cranky during the day.

This is a relief.

My itchiness is gone; I have some dry skin where the shingles were, but that is much improved as well.

Yesterday we had a visit from a special home-program where my insurance will offer as little or as much home support as we deem necessary--this could be home nursing visits, occasional accompaniment to appointments, light help around the house, all-hours medical advice and assistance, and the social workers are helping to look into transportation options that might be a good idea for now. They were incredibly nice, and I'll be interested to see if I can actually think of stuff I'd like help with.

I like to be independent, so it's tough for me to think of things for people to come do, although if somebody wants to vacuum, I could totally get behind that!

We also went to a lawyer's office yesterday where we got help setting up some basic documents that everyone should have. This I don't like thinking about, but it's useful for people to have power of attorney and wills and living trusts and what not. I found the experience refreshingly non-smarmy, and it's good to have things arranged even if they're unpleasant to think about.

We also stopped at Zingerman's again--this time the potato salad was swiss and we got some excellent macaroni and cheese. The deli seems weird to find if you're not pedestrian, but we will make a heroic effort to take any guests there who come and visit. I swear to you, the food really is phenomenal.

Monday is my last radiation visit (for now, although the neuro-onc, Dr. Lisa Rodgers, did indicate she would speak to Dr. Hayman about whether two lesions in my spine needed to be addressed before they begin intruding with my spinal column).

Monday is also Brian and my second wedding anniversary. :D

We both failed to believe when we got married that I would get to this point. I am so very happy to be wrong. Celebration, alas, will have to wait for a day Brian is not doing his practicum at Plymouth Public Library. It's his last semester in the LIS program at Wayne State, and I'm so very proud of what he's accomplished.

We will celebrate Wednesday, I think.

We also totally forgot about Baxter's birthday on the 21st, but he'll be getting a nice, juicy bone on Sunday so maybe he won't mind.

Labels: anniversary, Baxter, Brian, Decadron, Dr. Hayes, Dr. Lisa Rodgers, insurance, lawyer, library, Plymouth Public, shingles, Wayne State, WBR, wedding, Zingerman's

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A few weeks ago Brian and I traveled to Midland, Michigan to see Brian's cousin Tom marry Amy, a delightful person who was a lovely, radiant bride. The wedding was held outdoors at Dow Gardens. It threatened to rain but then the clouds passed over and it was actually pretty nice. The bridesmaids looked great, the groomsmen's tuxedos were very sharp, and the flower girls had the coolest dresses ever: they had loose flower petals encased in swathes of tulle, which made them somewhat resemble little snowglobes with lavender-colored snow. (Both dresses, I believe, sprung leaks and the poor girls were dripping petals at the reception.)

Anyway, going around meeting Brian's relatives after the ceremony, many people said something resembling this: "So you're Janet. I've heard so much about you! "

But what I heard was, "So you're Janet. You're the one with cancer! " Ordinarily I'd make a joke about how I hoped they'd heard only good things, but I'm pretty sure that's not the case and it seemed a tad bit awkward.

I don't personally mind if people know, and I'm fine with sharing details (if people really want them). I can go on quite at length about my experience and treatments, but that particular day really didn't seem the appropriate time. I thought I was going to go to an event that would be all about somebody else and new beginnings and such. Instead, all day I felt like it was CANCER CANCER CANCER CANCER CANCER CANCER CANCER CANCER.

Brian's aunt is a survivor and wanted to talk at the reception about her support group. When we took our leave to go home, the bride (whom I had never met nor spoken to before that day) asked how my treatments were going. I know people mean well, but is there no escape?

On the plus side, Brian and I got to dance. I didn't get to dance at my own wedding because I was using a walker back then.

Labels: Brian, wedding

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For those of you awaiting thank-you notes for shower and wedding gifts, I haven't forgotten. I've just been drastically procrastinating because I read somewhere that brides have a whole YEAR to get around to sending thank-yous.

It looks like my deadline is looming.

I just wanted to assure you that I haven't forgotten, I am still planning to mail out notes, and even though I may not remember exactly what everyone gave me, I loved everything and am very grateful.

Apologetically,
Janet

Labels: wedding

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For a while I've been marking cancerversaries. November 5: my surgery date. November 3: second bone scan and confirmation of metastatic disease. December: hospital stay. I don't think I will be able to forget and keep from feeling unease when late fall rolls around again, but a new marker of passing time is coming up.

February 25 will be Brian and my first wedding anniversary. I confess that when we got married, I was not entirely convinced that I would be seeing an anniversary, but I am thrilled and relieved to comment that my notion of impending doom was silly and that we will be seeing many more anniversaries.

February 14 will be my first Valentine's Day as a married person. April 13 is the anniversary of our first date (at La Shish...Brian rode his Harley for optimum impact). Spring is considered to be a time of renewal and rebirth. Usually this is represented by bunnies, tulips, and Cadbury eggs. I represent it by throwing off the shackles of my wheelchair, walker, and Fentanyl patches, and by celebrating what is good instead of being mired in what's miserable.

Labels: anniversary, bone scan, Brian, cancerversary, fentanyl, hospital, metastasis, motorcycle, surgery, walker, wedding, wheelchair

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During our weekend at Brian's parents house in Evart, Michigan, we thought it might be neat to go horseback riding. The weather was beautiful, and I thought there might be places out in the country that would support riding stables open to the public.

Brian's dad heroically called a bunch of places, and Brian called a bunch of places. It turns out that many stables that normally would have trail riding were closed either for the holiday or because it's hunting season.

I suppose it would suck to get shot at while out riding.

When Brian and I left on Saturday, we found ourselves on the western side of the state at the Double JJ, which did indeed have openings for a trail ride at 2:00 p.m. We arrived early and wandered around the "Back Forty" which is set up like an old western town complete with jail, souvenir shop, and saloon where you can get burgers and grilled cheese and fries and what not.

We lined up to climb the stairs of the mounting platform, and the ranch employees brought forth around 20 horses for all of the people riding that day. We were instructed to take the horse over to one of the watering troughs, then line up by the gate. Brian's horse, Speckles, was very thirsty and Brian couldn't get him away from the trough (later during the ride, we opted for the slower ride that was walking only...I will not say it was specifically out of deference to Brian's lack of experience--I'm tempted to, but it's just as well I didn't try to bounce the heck out of my gimpy hips on a trotting horse). There was some debate about my horse's name. Some of the employees call her Oatmeal. Others call her Vomit. She was sort of dappled beige, cream, and brown.

I guess it depends on how you feel about oatmeal.

I enjoyed the ride very much. We saw wild turkeys and did not encounter any hunters. The Double JJ has cattle drives where they actually teach you how to herd cattle.

This ride was important to me--back when I broke my hip, I remember emailing Sarah (Sarah and Danielle and I had talked about planning a trip to a "dude ranch" the previous summer) that I probably wouldn't be able to ride horses any more, and that the possibility of a dude ranch vacation wasn't looking good. Well, f*ck that. I can ride a horse; I don't see why I can't take any kind of vacation I want (money notwithstanding). I am very proud that I was able to get on the horse's back and that I could walk when I got off. Ok, I was a bit saddle sore, but that's normal.

Brian says he prefers his steel horse. That's fine, but I don't get to ride the steel horse by myself.

The Double JJ also has sled dogs; we spent some time feeding them doggie treats from a gumball machine bolted to a tree by their enclosure. There's an indoor water park, but we did not have bathing suits. As we ambled to the car, walking funny from the long ride, a wedding party showed up--the bridesmaids were carefully carrying their dresses and I think we saw the wedding dress arive. They (the people AND the dresses) were going to assemble in the dance hall for the ceremony. I wouldn't necessarily have wanted a western wedding, but it made me pretty happy that people were assembling to have fun and celebrate.

Labels: Brian, Danielle, Double JJ, Evart, hip, horses, Sarah, Thanksgiving, vacation, wedding

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This week I had the veritable motherlode of appointments. I had my usual blood draw/oncology team visit/infusion & pellet injection on Tuesday. I made sure to bring pictures of the wedding with me to show Lita, the Oncology nurse practitioner, who demanded them last time. (I also tossed in some of the wedding favors Brian's mom put together for her and Dr. Hayes.)

My mom picked me up, and they were running on time at the blood draw station, so I went in, had some tubes sucked out painlessly as possible (I love those people), and then came out to go to the next appointment. We went upstairs and waited for Brian. The check-in area was hectic, and there was about an hour to wait.

We did not get to go in early.

They called me to one of the rooms, and forty minutes later, Brian showed up. Finally, my mom decided she had to go, so she left and Brian and I waited some more. And we waited and waited. I chewed some gum. It lost its flavor, and still I waited. Finally Lita came in and checked how I was doing. I showed her the mini-album of pictures my mom put together and gave her the party favor. She was delighted with the candy, not having eaten lunch that day.

We talked about the nausea, and how that's really the only thing bothering me significantly at this point. We also talked about driving, and she suggested that physical therapy would be the place to address that issue, so I said I'd talk to Dr. Rodriguez (the physical medicine specialist) today about it. Then she took off to find Dr. Hayes and send him in.

We waited, and waited, and waited....

My gum lost its flavor, so I threw it away. I got cold and decided to put my shirt back on. I figured if the doctor wanted to use the stethescope, he didn't need me in a gown for that.

Finally he ducked in and asked if we'd seen Lita. Sure, uh, about an HOUR ago. He asked briefly how I was and then said he'd come back with her.

When they got back, and the doctor talked about how the "numbers are down" and that things are looking very good. He was talking about the presence of protein markers which indicate tumor activity: tumor activity is down, so I am getting healthier. He is a little bit concerned about the nausea, and ordered an MRI of the brain to rule out tumors there. "A hundred dollars on it being nothing," he said (or something like it.)

This makes me nervous. I have beaten stupider odds. But surely the universe would not do this to me again--that would just be cruel. They just have to rule it out. I hope they're ruling it out. "I'd stay and talk, but you're doing well and I need to go help the sick people," he said, and left.

So Lita suggested seeing if the MRI people I was going to see this morning could add another MRI.

I had to be at the hospital today at 5:30 a.m. Laugh uproariously, all ye who know how much of a morning person I am not.

They did add the other MRI, but it totally ruined my whole shtick about pretending to be a photon torpedo. They put stabilizer pads by my head and then affixed a thing that was more like The Man in the Iron Mask than Star Trek. It ruined my concentration and made me all tense. Then just as the test was beginning I suddenly realized I had totally forgotten to take my wedding band off. Was I wearing any metal? Duh....I thought for sure I had remembered everything. I could feel it buzzing to the MRI pulse and hoped that the machine wasn't going to explode or zap my ring finger off or anything like that.

The CT scan was over very quickly; it was just of the neck. The original CT and MRI scans were prescribed by Dr. Rodriguez, who wanted to investigate why I've been getting some numbness in my hands when my head turns a certain way. (I'm guessing "pinched nerve," but I'm not the doctor.) So after this morning, I had to go back to Ann Arbor in the afternoon to see her. She asked how I was, inquired about my movement, measuered my legs when I complained one feels shorter than the other, and wrote out a new prescription for physical therapy, suggested a driving evaluation when I asked about that, and told me that I can have an appointment with orthotist? Orthotician?

I have to get an orthotic wedge in my shoe. Sigh. At least this will help with the limping. I guess a wedge is better than having to get orthopedic shoes. My mom had to wear those when she was younger and the result was a woman with a full-blown shoe fetish that has yet to wane.

Labels: brain scan, Brian, CT scan, Dr. Hayes, Dr. Rodriguez, infusion, injection, Lita, mom, MRI, nausea, physical therapy, star trek, tumor marker, wedding

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I am extremely tired after the goings-on yesterday. I love more people and told more people I'd never met before how glad I was to see them, and it was true.

I was very happy to have help getting dressed and would like to thank the bridesmaids for being there. I think everybody looked great in their impractical dresses requiring complicated underwear, and think that anybody who agrees to such a duty deserves every amount of kudo possible. I'd like to thank Maria, particularly for marshalling people and getting everyone there in good order and for holding the bouquet at a crucial moment in the ceremony. I'd like to thank Wendy for helping me with the scary elevator; I was afraid the metal accordion-style door thing was going to crush her. I'd like to thank Melissa for being the photographer and helping to organize the group pictures. And I'd like to thank Sarah, who went on with the show despite not being able to attend the rehearsal and for being my witness (sorry I didn't tell you about this blog sooner).

I'd also like to thank the flower girl, Olivia, for doing a great job walking down the aisle, and who provided no small amount of entertainment value afterwards. I hope you like your flower-wreath headpiece.

It's Brian's job to thank the groomsmen, but I'd like to thank them too, especially my brother John, who doesn't know Brian very well but who agreed to participate. You are the best big brother anyone could ever ask for.

I'd like to thank Brian's brother Todd for delivering a very lovely, and mercifully brief ceremony, despite making me cry with the "in sickness and in health" part. If I could go back in time and change anything, I'd have stuffed a handkerchief somewhere about my person.

Thank you, Dad, for walking me down the aisle. I did not imagine I would ever have occasion to do such a thing, and am extremely grateful that you could be here to walk with me.

The table favors were perfect and included two pieces of Brian's favorite candy, Ferrero Rochet, and a small box of my favorite candy, the best candy in the world, hee hee. Brian's mom put them together, and I'd like to thank her not only for making sure they were sweet-tasting, but that they looked very sweet as well.

Finally, I'd like to thank my mom for arranging the whole event with perhaps less input from me than was helpful. I confess disinterest in invitation ink color and I am fearful of calling places for prices. Much of the planning went on while I was hospitalized, and the thought of planning tended to shoot my anxiety level to nausea-indusing heights. Through events yesterday my mom remained calm. I think what touched me most, however, is that when I got home from the rehearsal the other night, I came home and found my walker decorated with shiny irridescent fabric and beaded ribbon. It was funny and touching and kind of puts me in mind of what I must have been like in my own dress--I'm a little bit gimpy and broken, but anything can look pretty when dressed up for a wedding.

Also, the mashed potato bar and baby roast beef sandwiches at the reception were a big hit; I believe my enthusiasm regarding the food was vindicated. (Whenever I went on and got excited about the mashed potato bar that was going to be at the reception--you got your choice of regular or sweet potato with whatever fixins' you wanted--people would tell me, "uh, ok.".)

The cutting of the cake did not involve smashing pastry into any bodily orifices other than the mouth. I'm sure it was an accident that some icing fell into my extremely prominent cleavage.

Labels: anxiety, Brian, Dad, John, Junior Mints, Maria, Melissa, mom, nausea, Olivia, Sarah, Todd, walker, wedding, Wendy

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It's two days before my wedding, I'm still fighting nausea, and there's an awful lot of backstory to cover.

I discovered in the hospital that you can't depend on the caregivers to necessarily give the best care, whatever their intentions. It is vitally important to keep track of your own treatment and to speak up if something doesn't seem right.

Unfortunately, many of the things that don't seem right are just a natural result of being ill or damaged. I started suffering ungodly muscle spasms, particularly at night. You know how when you fall asleep, sometimes your body does that all-over jerk that feels like you've just fallen from mid-air? Or sometimes it feels like electricity, or like all of your muscles just have to tighten all at once. It's involuntary, and usually harmless, but with my hip fracture, it was unbearably painful.

I also had a huge amount of nausea, which seemed to be made worse by anxiety. Every time the attending doctor and his little doctorlets came by, I felt ill. When my mom wanted to talk about wedding invitations--what kind of print, wording, whether to say "the parents of" or have them be from Brian and me--I felt queasy. When anybody talked about possible discharge from the hospital, I became ill. Where was I going to go? I couldn't imagine going back to the second-story apartment in Westland. But what else could I do? Brian began searching for other apartments, and looking at options also made me feel queasy.

At this point, I began physical therapy. I was on some level glad to be getting out of that torturous hospital device they call a "bed" and beginning the process of becoming something that wasn't an immobile lump of protoplasm, although actually having to do it was painful, difficult, tiring, and also caused nausea. Sitting up for long was difficult at first, but at least I did know--from previous experience--that it would pass and that getting up and moving around would ultimately be good for me. The physical therapist would show up, bring a walker, and have me try to get out of bed and move around. First it was three feet away from the bed and back. Then it was to the door and back. Then it was through the door, across the hall and back. Each time my jaunts got successively longer, and she recommended--as an alternative to going home or going into an "assistive care facility" (read: "nursing home")--that I be admitted to the intensive rehabilitation unit on the same floor of the hospital. I would do physical and occupational therapy twice a day.

So I moved to the room where I would spend my Christmas.

On my first day of occupational therapy, I was measured for compression stockings and given a set of adaptive equipment of the kind they gave to Grandma when she had her hip injury several years ago. I too got the sock put-er on-er, the grippy thing, the giant shoe horn, the pants hook. I'm not sure if Grandma also got the leg loop (it looks like one of those "invisible dog" leashes) or not; I found mine to be incredibly helpful for moving my legs onto and off of the bed.

Physical therapy consisted of walking for longer and longer distances using the walker (but putting no weight on the right foot), doing leg exercises on the mat, and occasionally doing arm strengthening using the pulleys or fulcrum weights. They also taught skills like stepping up onto a curb using a walker, sitting down in a car seat from either a wheelchair or a walker, and using a crutch to go up and down stairs.

I had too much anxiety to do the stairs. I was just too worried about my hips crumpling like phyllo pastry, and the therapists didn't press me.

Occupational therapy consisted of getting me dressed and showered in the mornings, and in the afternoon doing a combination of eye-hand coordination activities, some arm strengthening activities, and some arts and crafts. I saw people making these rubber mats with the Michigan M and when offered the tubs of colored rubber tiles, decided I would try to get creative and make an aquatic scene. The therapist was getting visibly impatient with me (she wanted to clear space off the counter) and I couldn't spend as much time planning my picture as I wanted, so I had to do a fairly rudimentary scene with two fish, gravel, some plants, and two different colors of blue to indicate the depth of the water.

Nobody told me it was going to be a doormat. If I'd known, as I told one of the substitute therapists on the Christmas break, I would have planned the picture to be horizontally aligned...as it was, they must have thought I was either mentally deranged or just really careless.

The other therapist turned it sideways the way I had planned it. "Oh hey, that's actually pretty cute!"

Labels: anxiety, Brian, doctorlets, Grandma, hip, hospital, mom, nausea, physical therapy, spasms, stairs, walker, wedding, wheelchair

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The Food Network (I am enjoying the novelty of cable very much) declared this past weekend to be devoted to chocolate and luuuuuuuv. There were specials on cooking with chocolate, making various confections, the history of chocolate, a chocolate sculpture competition, a wedding cake competition, a very odd segment in which some quirky dude blindfolded people and had them taste unusual items dipped in melted chocolate from one of those new chocolate fountains (oddly, people liked the chocolate-covered cheese puff, and the chocolate-covered carrot wasn't that bad...nay on the chocolate-dipped cheddar cheese, however), most of which I saw multiple times. I've clearly been watching too much of this channel as events will prove, and actually found myself announcing to Brian exactly why I was following particular steps in my cooking this evening.

"Now I'm coating each granule with butter before adding the stock..."

Yes, I cooked for the first time in many months tonight. I intended to do it all myself, but became completely exhausted and had help for the final stages, but am happy and proud to have been able to do something nice for Brian, who's been working very hard to keep me well-fed, despite the challenges (more on that later).

I don't have very many dishes in my repertoire, but one I particularly like involves couscous with toasted pine nuts and chicken with a savory tomato-vegetable sauce adapted from a recipe for something called "chicken provençal" in my cookbook. I tend to use more garlic than required and have nixed the anchovies and olives. It contains onion, garlic, zucchini, eggplant, diced tomato, chicken broth, extra tomato paste or sauce, all simmered together. The chicken is dredged in salted & peppered flour then pan-seared and finally finished up in the vegetable mix. The couscous is cooked with chicken broth instead of water to which a pinch of cinnamon and coriander have been added. The secret ingredient seems to be the pinch of cayenne pepper in the vegetables. The whole thing is very savory and spicy.

We went shopping for ingredients yesterday at Meijer, where I tooled around in one of those motorized scooters. I managed not to run anybody over and was getting really good at making three-point 180 turns. At the store I went a little nuts and started tossing swanky cheeses into my basket. Strawberries. A giant bag of chocolate chips. A French baguette. Crackers.

When the gentleman arrived home from work, there was a platter of various cheeses and fruits, including camembert (a less bitter cousin of Brie and one of my favorites), double gloucester, and some kind of white cheese that had cranberries in it. I also had grapes and strawberries on the tray, some pistachios, and a wine glass filled with apple slices. I also made up a few appetizers consisting of a bread round, slice of camembert, apple slice, drizzled with balsamic vinegar. I regret not having taken a picture of the cheese tray, but we did have presence of mind to photograph the dessert, which was chocolate covered strawberries, which I made this morning.

They were served on a chocolate heart-shaped plate which I sculpted from the leftover melted chocolate and put in the freezer on a telephone book to keep its shape.

The Food Network is creating a monster.

The double-boiler which melted the chocolate, the appetizer plates, the wine glasses, and the beautiful flower centerpiece were gifts from my wedding shower, which took place this past Sunday, thrown by my friends Robyn and Lori. Robyn, as I have often said to people, is a devotée of Martha Stewart. Robyn has impeccable taste and is very good at hosting events and putting together all manner of party things. Foods. Centerpieces. It's really quite amazing.

So the two of them threw of lovely luncheon at The Dearborn Inn, to which a small group of friends and coworkers was invited. There were incredibly delicious sandwiches, there was cake (I have been breakfasting on cake leftovers), there were gifts which will necessitate thank-you notes before I forget who gave me what. I've been having a stupidly great time picking registry things; I tried to be practical, but then was talked into asking for bone china, stemware, flatware, and serving pieces by Robyn, who kept insisting, "Are you sure you don't want to sign up for some Waterford crystal or some Lenox china?" My favorite gift was the 3-tier serving tray which I envision using for high tea. I will need to be sure to invite Robyn and Lori for cucumber sandwiches some day soon. Brian was invited to the shower, which he attended with great aplomb, despite his personal preference to be doing almost anything else.

Saturday was equally devoted to girly things as I desperately wanted to go get my hair done at the Mall. I had decided I wanted drastic highlights, which made the whole affair take longer. Then I needed to consult with the stylist about what to do with hair for the wedding since I won't be able to have somebody do it for me. She suggested hot rollers. I have since acquired hot rollers and a wet/dry straightener. (I've also been watching too many makeover shows courtesy of cable as well.)

I am unappologetic about doing frivolous things for myself; this is the first week in a long time I have actually not spent any time vomiting. I am no longer taking MS Contin, which made me unbearably ill. The constant nausea has made keeping me fed and hydrated very difficult. Brian had been trying to tempt me by listing multiple food options in the hopes of finding something that did not repulse me, but having foods listed to me seemed to bring on the nausea. I have tried multiple medications including Zofran, Tigan, and now Anzimet (which, to those without insurance, costs $9,000 for a month's supply). I had been vomiting at least once per week; the last time was at Sears shortly after my last bridal gown fitting. What if the food at the reception bothers me and I yak all over my wedding dress?

Now I feel like that won't be a problem; I'm so relieved.

I am finding other things easier, and yet have new aches and pains which always frighten me. Walking is getting easier; I am beginning to wonder if it might be possible to use the walker only as a backup for going down the aisle. Maybe my dad will be able to bolster me enough without it...I don't know and might be too frightened of falling to try. My hands suddenly hurt more than they ever have before and opening jars is uncomfortable and my fingers are noticably stiff. Is it the arthritis-like ailment of which takers of Arimidex complain? Is it lesions on the bones in my hands? Is this pain in my side a result of stretching funny or are the bones cracked here like they are in my pelvis? Will I ever know how damaged my skeleton is, and are there things I should be doing (or things I should be avoiding) to keep it from collapsing like a crushed can?

I have an appointment with Dr. Hayes next week. Should I wait, or should I ask about my symptoms before then? I never know. Honestly, I'm hesitant to bring it up with Lita, because she will schedule me for more medical tests and appointments right away.

In the meantime, I will watch more cable to take my mind off things, eat some leftover cake, and admire how even something as pedestrian as Crystal Light can taste really good when taken in wafer-thin glass stemware.

Labels: Brian, chocolate, cooking, Dr. Hayes, hair, hip, Lita, Lori, nausea, Robyn, shower curtain, walker, wedding

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I went shopping for a bridal gown with my mom yesterday at the David's Bridal a few blocks from here.

You don't just go in and look at stuff hanging on the racks. They take down your information, assign you a consultant, and send you to one of the fitting rooms. The sales consultant provides you with the appropriate underwear (I must say, I was surprised at the sizes required and can only say that at least the resulting bustline will ensure that I have someplace to set my hors d'oeuvre plate if I need to put it somewhere) and then starts to bring dresses which may or may not match what it is you had in mind.

When you try a dress on, there are no mirrors in the fitting room so you have to go into the public area and stand on one of the pedestals in front of the mirrored doors so that everybody in the fitting area can see you. Then they find a veil and headpiece to complete the look. She kept trying different head things, and I asked, "Um, could we worry about the accessories later and try some more dresses?"

Some were too "busy." Some had weird pleats of fabric around the midsection. Some gapped in funny places. I finally tried on one that I had seen in the booklet and decided was a distinct possibility; it was very lovely and simple and faintly Jane Austenlike.

Then I tried on the princess dress.

You know, the one with the yards and yards of fabric, clean lines, and embroidery that added just enough interest without being tacky or too much. I laughed at how much fabric was involved, and it looked astonishing. The elderly lady sitting outside somebody else's dressing room declared it was beautiful and I had to get that one! The consultant thought she might have found the winner, because the dress made me smile so. I thought I would need birds to hold up my train.

As much as one hates to be trapped by stereotype, I confess I have secretly always wanted to have the princess moment. The one where everybody looks at me and imagines there's never been anyone lovelier.

I really didn't know how I'd be able to choose between the two top contenders. One was simple and practical and lovely; the other was a stunning confection of 30 pounds of fabric. Finally my mom went out to help the saleslady scour the racks for the one or two other dresses in the book that I wanted to see, and I said it was up to her to find the one that keeps me from having to choose between the other two.

This is exactly what happened.

See, these dresses never really look like much on the hanger. The photo gives you no idea what they look like in real life. I ended up trying on something I wouldn't have otherwise, and it was the most beautiful thing I have ever worn. It will need to be hemmed and slightly adjusted, but otherwise looks as though it were made for me.

So I'm not going to have the bird-carried sweeping train, but I'll have that moment where people look at me and are amazed that the trouser-wearing librarian can actually look like that.

The dress is in my front closet, and Brian has been warned not to go looking for it.

"It's bad luck," I told him.

He promised he wouldn't peek. "The last thing we need is bad luck," he commented. "I ride a motorcycle and you have cancer."

We both laughed hysterically for several minutes at that one.

Labels: Brian, David's Bridal, dress, gown, mom, wedding

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I am engaged to be married. :)

Brian made home-cooked lasagna for dinner, which I thought was good enough, but it got better. He rented some movies (lighthearted ones...I declare it will be a long time before I am going to be able to watch Shadowlands or Terms of Endearment), and we were having a couch-potato evening, necessitated by my having twisted funny while reaching for some rolls of toilet paper and being somewhat laid up by a back spasm.

He paused the movie and got up, ostensibly to clear the dishes, and came back and got down in front of the sofa I was sprawled upon. "We might as well do this right," he said, producing a ring box.

I can't accurately describe the sequence of events, but they involved him officially asking if I would marry him, me saying yes, trying the ring on, moving it to my pinky, an explanation that the place he got it didn't have half-sizes for some reason (we are somewhat financially constrained), some goofy smiling and hugs and kisses, and a request to bring me the ring he gave me for my birthday so I can wear that on my left hand while we figure out how to handle the sizing issue.

I'm a fiancée.

Labels: Brian, engaged, ring, Shadowlands, spasms, wedding

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