I feel like I should rise from my hard, utilitarian, church basement resident folding chair and say to the circle of haggard, exhausted people around me, "Hi, I'm Kathy. I'm a cancer survivor. I've been off chemo for almost two weeks."

At which point my fellow baldies would reply, "Hi Kathy," in an unexcited, battle weary, morale flagging monotone.

I can't blame them for not being excited. It's hard for me to work up the enthusiasm one would think would come part and parcel with such an announcement. Which, I have to say, I find weird. I was sure that by the time I got to this stage, finally being done with the extended mass murder of millions of my cells, healthy and not so healthy, that I would be jumping up and down for joy, thrilled that the extended hell of chemotherapy was done. But I'm not. I'm too tired to party, it seems. I can't even work up the enthusiasm to get one of those little doohickeys that you blow into at New Year's Eve parties, where your breath expands and unrolls a paper funnel and it a emits a cheerful little sound. I just can't be bothered. I'm finally off the roller coaster, for which I'm grateful, don't get me wrong, but I'm too discombobulated to be truly thrilled the ride is finally over with.

But at least it's over with. Because, for a while there, the car of the roller coaster stopped five feet short of the platform, and I was unable to get off the stupid thing because of idiotic safety regulations.

If you're interested in the entire, windy, tale, take the jump. If not, feel free to skip. You have my blessing.

more...

Posted by: Kathy at 02:11 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 4619 words, total size 25 kb.

Ok, so the Cake Eater sister, Christi, sent me a bunch of photos from Omaha's Walk to Cure Diabetes over a week ago. She asked me to post them, along with a message of profound and undying thanks to all who donated and who helped out by linking to our cause, because she didn't have the time to do so.

Now you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, may be wondering why she had time to hijack the blog for a week, but did not have time to post her own thanks. Well, let me tell you, I don't know how she managed the time to post in the first place, let alone find the time to fulfill my idiotic request to make videos to make the fundraising "more interesting." Here's a quick rundown of all that she's got going on right now: she's a bridal designer and had to rework a dress for a Labor Day weekend wedding whilst simultaneously preparing for her day job as a teacher's aide. And she's got three kids, who need to be fed and looked after, of course. Not to mention, my brother and his family are in the process of moving back to Omaha and she's been helping them out with the adjustment, as well as helping my mother out with my father's (temporary, Thank God) transition to a vegan (yes, I know.) diet. She's a busy chick. Don't quite know how she manages to get it all done, but, somehow, she does. I really seem quite lame in comparison and my excuse of having a whopping case of chemo brain (and low hemoglobin, too, which really doesn't help with the attention-span problems) doesn't really seem to cut it. She's just one of those people, eh? If she had to go through chemo (which I hope she never does) she wouldn't be one to slack at all. I'm sure of it. She's the good kid. I'm the bad seed. Well, I'm not entirely bad, but I'm not her, that's for sure.

That said, I would indeed like to pass along our most heartfelt thanks to all who donated and to our blogger friends, who not only linked to our little project, but who also put in a lot of time and effort to make cakes as incentives. You are all awesome people. Thanks to you, we are *that* much closer to finding a cure, so James can snarf all the Snickers he wants, whenever he wants. Thank you, oh, so much.

And, now, the pictures!

The man goof of the hour---James!

All of the really cool people who got up at the crack of dawn on a really hot and humid August Saturday morning to walk three miles to cure diabetes. These people rock. I wish I could have been there. Really I do.

And this is the Krist family, of which James is but one member. Christi and James should be recognizable by now, but you may not know Jeff, the patriarch of this here clan; Colin, my Godbaby and recent convert to the cult of the long haired hippie children; and Maggie, the girliest girl this side of the Mississippi River (and the orneriest, too.). It, apparently, wouldn't be a complete walk experience without a family picture in front of a giant inflatable coke bottle, now would it?

Thanks again, my devoted Cake Eater readers. We couldn't have gotten this far without you!

Posted by: Kathy at 10:54 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 584 words, total size 4 kb.

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Ooooh, lookie. Mike Rowe's painting the Mackinac Bridge a pretty shade of green.

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with all due apologies to Jeff G. for stealing his schtick. Again. For, like, the fortieth time. Because, seriously, I got bupkiss right now. Let alone gray matter.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:23 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 70 words, total size 1 kb.

So, I'm flipping around the boob tube this evening and I came across an ad for this documentary, which is airing on The Learning Channel later this month. The name of the documentary is Crazy Sexy Cancer.

Crazy Sexy Cancer is an irreverent and uplifting documentary about a young woman looking for a cure and finding her life.

In 2003, 31-year-old actress/photographer Kris Carr was diagnosed with a rare and incurable cancer. Weeks later she began filming her story. Taking a seemingly tragic situation and turning it into a creative expression, Kris shares her inspirational story of survival with courage, strength, and lots of humor.

With experimental treatment as her only option, Kris became determined to find answers where there were none. She traveled throughout the country interviewing experts in alternative medicine as she tenaciously dove head first into a fascinating and often hilarious holistic world. Along the way, she met other vivacious young women determined to become survivors. Their stories are as poignant and exciting as the women who tell them. As Kris's amazing journey unfolds, she realizes that healing is about truly living rather than fighting.

Crazy Sexy Cancer is more than a film, it's an attitude! It's about rising to the challenge of life, and no matter what, refusing to give up who you are at your core. This story is as funny as it is frightening, as joyous as it is outrageous. Ultimately, Crazy Sexy Cancer is a thought provoking film about, friendship, love and growing up.

Now, I don't want to get down on anyone telling their tale of survival over this beast of a disease. If I'm allowed, so are they. What I am going to go postal on, however, is the name of this documentary. Crazy Sexy Cancer?

What the fuck?

If you look at the title, and, just for fun, decided to diagram it, "cancer" would be your noun and "sexy" and "crazy" your adjectives. Adjectives, as any first grader could tell you, are meant to "enhance" your noun. Adjectives are meant to make a simple noun, like, say, "cancer," more descriptive. As far as our two adjectives here, "Crazy" is simple enough. It doesn't describe cancer in a technical way, but it does describe it, nonetheless. What I don't get, and won't ever get is how you could possibly describe cancer as "sexy." I ask you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, what could possibly be sexy about cancer? Cancer is, by definition, abnormal cell growth. Tumors. Stuff that shouldn't be there. Can tumors be sexy? Is there such a thing as MRI pr0n? Step right up, get your Pet Scan jollies right over here?

I think we all know what they're going for, and it isn't to highlight how sexy tumors are. It's rather about empowerment. It's about taking control of your disease, if you happen to be afflicted with this particular malady. It is, in essence, about highlighting all that Girl Power crap the Spice Girls foisted on us ten years ago. That's all well and good, but the inclusion of the word "sexy" in the title of this film, well, it just freakin' offends me. I can't tell you how much it makes my blood boil to hear cancer described as "sexy," let alone to receive the message that I, as a cancer patient, can be "sexy." Well whoop-de-freakin'-do. Thank you ever so bloody much. As if being "sexy" was the most important thing right now; as if sexiness is the only thing my soon-to-be renewed existence was meant to revolve around.

Cancer ain't sexy.

Being a cancer patient ain't sexy.

There is absolutely nothing sexy about the entire experience.

Is it sexy when you're recovering from having a tumor the size of a baseball cut out of you and you can barely wipe your own ass effectively because you're so weak and the IV tubing keeps getting in the way? Is that sexy? Is it sexy when you vomit bile and are unable to eat? Is it sexy when you can't walk four blocks to the grocery store for an entire month? Is it sexy when you're stuck for five hours at a time in a recliner at the oncologist's office, receiving the most toxic drugs a body can handle without dying (and even then some people do) intravenously? Are anemia and neutropenia---my two current maladies due to the chemo---sexy? Are blood disorders hot nowadays?

What the fuck?

None of these things are sexy. Nor do they have a flaming thing to do with sex appeal. It's cancer for chrissakes. IT'S NOT A SEXY EXPERIENCE. It's not meant to be. For God's sake, not everything that happens to you during this lifetime is meant to revolve around what makes someone happy in the pants. Furthermore, to try and sell it as a 'sexy' experience, or rather one wherein you, the victim of this disease, can still, reportedly, feel sexy is to cheapen the entire process. Because, as I've come to appreciate, you get cancer for a reason. That reason may be, in strict scientific terms, that you can't fight off tumors because of one genetic defect or another. Or it could be more metaphysical. It might just be that you got cancer because God thought you could handle it. That He decided there were lessons in this life that you were meant to learn and you could only do so by enduring this experience. I don't know, but if the only lesson I was meant to learn during this whole ordeal was that I could still be sexy while I'm as bald as a goddamn egg and sick as a dog, well, I'm going to be pissed off.

Cancer is not something Madison Avenue needs to sell. It's already being sold to one in three people around this world, and it's selling like hotcakes, I tell ya. Every damn day of every damn year. No one needs to hire an ad agency to sell cancer. The sales figures are doing just fine, thank you ever so much.

I wish the filmmaker well. I really do. I don't want to shit on her experience or what she learned during her experience with cancer. I'll tune in when the film airs. But she could have come up with a better title.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:04 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 1057 words, total size 6 kb.

Here's what it looks like when you receive chemo.

Comfy recliner notwithstanding, as you might guess, I've had a pretty shitty week so far.

You should really try and make me feel better by helping James out with a donation to his Walk to Cure Diabetes team.

If your donation is $50 or greater, you'll get a free Gooey Cake out of the deal, too.

AND IT'S TAX DEDUCTIBLE, MY DEVOTED CAKE EATER READERS!

{Ed. Oh, don't look at me like that. I warned you that a guilt sledge was probably coming your way. Don't be surprised that I actually wielded it.}

Posted by: Kathy at 09:26 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
Post contains 114 words, total size 1 kb.

1 You are looking HAWT girlfriend, especially with those hot little legs of yours. ;-) That room looks a whole lot like the room I go to for my iron infusions. Thanks for the picture.

Posted by: c.a. Marks at August 07, 2007 10:09 AM (T7eG4)

2 "hot little legs" Snort! They could only be hot if cellulite is your thing.

Posted by: Kathy at August 07, 2007 11:42 AM (ufifB)

3 Thanks for the picture. I think you're looking pretty f'n good, myself.

Posted by: Margi at August 07, 2007 01:32 PM (DwLKz)

4 Somehow I just can't get the words "chemo pron" out of my head.

Posted by: Robbo the Llama Butcher at August 07, 2007 02:12 PM (0JsTF)

5 "chemo pr0n?" Oh, good lord, Robbo! ;P

Posted by: Kathy at August 07, 2007 08:35 PM (ufifB)

6 c.a. is right. Hawt, girl.

Posted by: Chris Muir at August 07, 2007 08:40 PM (+CRDT)

7 That's my bride.

Posted by: MRN aka "The Husband" at August 08, 2007 10:18 PM (ufifB)

8 Yup,all the good ones are taken, MRN! Hope everything's doing well, my sister's doing her chemo right now. The nice thing is, research/attention is finally starting to focus on cancer.

Posted by: Chris Muir at August 09, 2007 07:35 AM (+CRDT)

9 Good Luck to your sister, Chris. I hope she's getting through it in style. I wish you both nothing but the best. Take care!

Posted by: Kathy at August 09, 2007 03:14 PM (ufifB)

10 Thanks-everyone's in this together,1 in 3 people ...! Time to make the big C a little c. Best wishes,you! C

Posted by: Chris Muir at August 09, 2007 10:05 PM (+CRDT)

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Ok, my devoted Cake Eater readers. Here's an offer you can't possibly refuse.

For every $50 (or more, and we loves it when people contribute more) that is donated to James' Walk to Cure Diabetes effort, Chrissy---marvelous, marvelous, baker extraordinaire Chrissy---will send you one genuine Fiesty Gooey cake, made with her two highly skilled, filled-with-the-spirit-of-Betty-Crocker hands.

How you could possibly refuse that offer, well, I don't know.

C'mon kids. Don't make me pull out the guilt sledge. Throw me a bone here, will ya? I know you're a generous lot. Go and donate what you can and make me proud.

Or the Hebrew Hammer's Mother is going to have nothin' on me when I'm done with you lot.

If you would prefer to avoid that scenario, let me just remind you that you have an out. You can donate $50 (or more. Have I mentioned we really likes the more?) and receive a fresh, homemade cake (CAKE!!!! Cake that Marie Antoinette would gobble up if she had the chance, with very few crumbs left over to slip down into her lifted-and-separated-courtesy-of-a-corset-cleavage.) for your efforts.

I think you know which option will allow you to sleep like a baby at night, eh?

UPDATE: Have I mentioned that any donation made to JDRF is tax deductible? I haven't? Well, it is. You can get a cake and a write-off. What's not to love with that scenario, I ask you, my tax-hating, devoted Cake Eater readers.

UPDATE DEUX: Let me correct that: you can get a tax write-off, a cake and avoid the guilt trip from hell. Again, I ask you, what's not to love with that scenario?

Posted by: Kathy at 09:08 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 289 words, total size 2 kb.

Wow! I finally got this blessed video saved. It took some finagling (how do you spell that word?).

anyway, the following clip is of James and his friends. Kids are really great when it comes to questions. Everyone in the film has known James since the beginning of his illness. Diabetes has been explained to them many times, but they all still have some unanswered questions. So, watch and maybe learn a little something.

If you want to learn more (and maybe more scientific answers) go to the JDRF website

This will be our last post for the hijacking. Thank you all for your patronage, your donations, and your comments. We have had some fun doing this. We hope we have inspired some people out there to get involved. There are so many worthy causes to donate to. We don't really like hitting people up for money. But we know that people donate all the time. If James' story is one that inspires you, we would really appreciate your donation to JDRF.

thank you, Christi and James
to donate

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 10:49 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 185 words, total size 1 kb.

...to announce that the husband, myself and everyone we know is all right and unharmed by the horrific I-35W bridge collapse.

I had more than a few inquiries in the Cake Eater mailbag this morning, so I figured it warranted a general announcement. It's amazing that so many people around the country---and around the world, for that matter---would worry that we were all right. It's good to be able to give positive affirmations in that regard, and I thank you all, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, for your concern. Alas, however, not everyone was so lucky to avoid harm during yesterday's commute home. Say a prayer or offer up a happy thought---or whatever---for those who might not have been as fortunate.

As far as the bridge collapse itself, well, gosh, I can't tell you how many times I've been over that bridge without thinking twice about it. If you're not paying attention, it's possible to cross it without realizing there's actually a river underneath it. It was that high-up. You just don't think about this sort of thing happening here. California? Yes, absolutely. Minnesota? Absolutely-frickin'-not. The shock of this is going to reverberate for quite some time.

But, you know what, because we're Minnesotans, and because we have an ingrained tendency to get on with things, we will get on with things. Have no doubts about it. That bridge will be rebuilt, or there will be at least some substitution in place, sooner than you think.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled JDRF programming. If you can, my devoted Cake Eater readers, make sure you go and donate some moolah, if you find yourself in a position to do so. No amount is too small. We're grateful for every penny donated. Really, we are. We know there are A LOT of causes out there that require attention. That fact is not lost on us at all. If you feel inspired to help James, and other Type I Diabetics, find a cure for this disease, we'd be honored to have your support.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:57 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 359 words, total size 2 kb.

Anyone who knows anyone with Diabetes knows what a pain it is to manage. How all consuming it is. There have been great strides in technology. Imagine not having an accurate way of knowing your blood sugar level. Imagine having to pee on a strip of paper to know whether you are in control. That used to be the standard of care until all the new portable blood glucose meters were invented.

Now imagine how frustrated you are when you are doing everything the doctors tell you. You eat within the rules, you test frequently, you eat at the same time every day, you follow your scale for insulin shots, and your blood sugars are still out of whack! That is the exact frustration most Diabetics face. Especially small children. Their bodies are changing so rapidly, that it doesn't matter how you follow the rules, you can't get "in control". For no reason at all they can be in the 400's for blood sugars. Then 30 minutes later, they will be 50.

So, then the insulin pump is invented. What progress! Now, instead of multiple insulin shots a day (that have delayed action - and you never quite know when), you can have a vial of insulin attached to you and slowly releasing insulin into your system all day long. At meal times all you have to do is press a few buttons and your "bolus" of insulin is delivered painlessly into your body.

You may think, "Wow, why wouldn't you want to be on a pump?" Well, imagine being hooked up to this medical device 24 hours a day. It's like being on an oxygen pump, but it is hooked to your waist. You have tubes that you have to conceal and if you are a kid, you may need to wear a fanny pack like case all day and all night long. If you go swimming, you need to remove your medical device, and then at the same time go without your insulin. Try sleeping with tubing coming out of your abdomen and you might get tangled up at the night.

Then, let's talk about the cost. You might think since you are not going through all those needles and you need less types of insulin, you might save money. Alas, that is not so. You still have plenty of supplies that you need to keep in stock. Every three days, you need to re-insert your "cannula" with an infusion set that delivers the insulin into your body. These aren't cheap. And we are not even going to talk about the cost of the pump itself. And then on top of that, you still need to keep syringes around just in case the pump malfunctions or if you are off the pump a lot.

Generally speaking you have to jump through hoops to get your insurance company to cover the pump. That's a ton of fun. Then, try to decide what type of pump is good for you. Personally, they all turn me off. Who wants this clunky beeper looking thing with all this tubing attached to you, just so you can eat when you want to? Just so I can leave my kid with other people who aren't trained to take care of him at meals. My son's numbers aren't all that bad. I can understand if you are always at great risk, but James is not. I asked some parents of kids with pumps how their children's blood sugar numbers were. They hesitated and told me that their averages still weren't that great. Again, the pump is supposed to be so much better for a Diabetic's health, but I just don't think that is necessarily true for kids. They also said to get your kid on the pump before they were old enough to object. Soooooooooooo, is the pump for the kid or for the parent? If I'm taking the hit for this invention, it had better be to get my kid's numbers in the optimum range at least 75% of the time.

So, the pumps that have been out there have not really sparked my interest. But, now, there is one that has me interested. It is the Omnipod. It is small. It can be hidden. It is controlled by a remote device which is also your meter. It doesn't have tubing. It doesn't have a separate infusion set. It is waterproof. It doesn't require a ton of extra supplies and equipment to haul around. It has automated injecting! A mother's dream. But, guess what? Since I live in Nebraska, I can't get it yet. Doesn't matter how much money I have, they won't sell it where they don't have reps set up. If I live on the coasts, I'd be okay, but, once again, since I don't live in a huge population center, I'm screwed. Since I live in little ol' Omaha, I have to settle for older technology. Ain't that nice.

So, when people say to me, "All your inconviences can go away if you just get the pump", I want to scream. No, they wouldn't. We'd would just be trading inconviences. I'm not going to settle for something that isn't perfect.

And we aren't even go to talk about the artificial pancreas yet. Because, that is what would really be ideal. What's the hold up with that? And then, once they get that figured out and approved, guess what, it will only be approved for adults, not children. We'll have to wait another year.

So, I guess that is why we stick with shots. No one gives us the runaround with those. Maybe I'm just beat down. Maybe some day I will want to take on the system. Maybe the technology will catch up with my dream for an easier life for my son. Maybe.

If you'd like to donate to our crusade to find a cure for Diabetes, please go here, and, in the immortal words of the Bartles and James guys, "We thank you for your support."

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 06:08 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 1021 words, total size 6 kb.

Okay, I was going to have this really great video to share with you today. But, alas the computer gods do not deem this good.

I'm working on Windows Movie Maker and the darn thing will not let me save the movie file. I've tried everything. I even redid the movie. Any magic advice out there? It's a really great movie, and I want to share it with all of you.

So, since I am getting my house ready for another fundraiser for JDRF tonight, I'm going to abort a good post for today.

Just a thought, anyone who buys Tastefully Simple products can purchase from my representative before the end of business on Friday and 15% of the sales will go to our team goal!

My reps name is Claudia Rodenburg and her email is tastefullycjathotmail.com
The website is http://www.tastefullysimple.com

Bon Appetit!

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 01:01 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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