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July 31, 2007

Message to Sue

For Sue Hayman in Hong Kong, sponsoring my walking efforts, I think the summer holidays might put paid to regular walking until kids are back in school - although I have to say that having navelbine in the morning, seeing assorted children off to camps, back from sleepovers, and so on during the day, and then ending up at five in the afternoon at Finchley Lido, our local wave machine swimming pool, feels like quite enough walking. But anyhow, will resume regular walks with the new term. May have to give up the holy grail quest for the perfect shampoo and blow-dry until then as well...although I'm getting so addicted to helmet hair I may just sneak out for the odd bout of rollers.

On the plus side the Guardian quick crossword does seem to finally have given up the obsession with flower names. Hurrah! For a minute there, yesterday, thought they were substituting a fish obsession, but that seems to have passed.

For all those staying alive, everywhere

and surviving here and check out all Norm's other survival mechanisms here and here.

Another evening outing

Made it out of the house for a second evening, in however many months - always exciting to smell the summer evenings!

To Lisa Gittelmon, who's initiated a series of fund-raising dinner parties to boost the CTRT coffers, and with sun-dried tomatoes in tiny home-baked pastry cases, and chicken and sweet potato, raised £150 plus last night. Lisa's somebody I only just met when Elon started school two years ago, but she's been really swift to become involved. She started thinking about fund-raising because of my book, but, as is the way with this illness - every minute somebody's being diagnosed - no sooner had she started planning the dinners than one of her very close friends - with whom she goes much further back - found a lump, and is currently being treated at Barnet and Mount Vernon, by the same doctors I had.

July 29, 2007

Why we're raising money

This article from the New York Times says an awful lot about why we are raising money, particularly this paragraph:

She has come to think that survival may depend on money and access, and, she said, on “your own drive and motivation — are you Type A? — your education and your ability to sort through the medical world and the insurance world terminology.”

It's clear to me that not just in the States, but here too, not everybody is equal in the cancer world, not all treatments are equal, and not all access is equal. The point about building a trials unit, such as the one which our money is building, is to make sure that as many cancer patients as possible are seen in the same building, with access to the same top pool of doctors, and to all the possible trials. Also, there is a lot to be said for sitting in a waiting room with other patients who are having the same treatments, and finding out, firstly, that you are all getting the same, and how others are dealing with and reacting to the drugs.

July 27, 2007

Therapies

So one of the other things we are very lucky to have in Hendon is Chai Cancer Care, a place where Jews can go for cancer advice, lectures and alternative therapies. I first registered in 2004, which involved proving I was Jewish - slightly offputiing - when I was initially diagnosed, and never managed to get back, because just coping with the disease takes up all your time. But finally, getting some alternative treatments is right at the top of my "to do" list, and so I trotted round to Chai yesterday, having made the phonecalls, the appointments and so on, to arrange not to have the treatments there (because I know I'll end up cancelling when some other thing intrudes) but to see which of their therapists would do a home visit.

I had, therefore, a very specific mission, and one which, moreover I'd been really specific about on the phone several times. What happens when I get there? Well, without wanting to moan too much, because they have very kindly fixed me up both with a reiki practitioner (no, no idea either, but I'll report back) and a physiotherapist, I have to report that I did also have to put up with the usual half-hour of stuff about counselling.

As in, "so, how is your husband/ the children/ family/you?"

Me: "Well, you know, fine thank you - given that the circumstances are what they are, everybody's coping well, it's not the sort of thing you can do much about."

Chai: "You know we offer counselling, anybody can partake."

Me: "yes, thanks, I do know - we're fine thanks."

Chai: "It can be very helpful for the extended family."

Me: "Well, kids, husband, all fine actually. I mean, obviously, it's like living with an axe over your home, but that's not something that anything can be done about, it's not something any counselling is going to help."

Another fifteen minutes of this, and what leaflet does she give me to go away with? The counselling ones.

Anybody who watched Tony Soprano through all six series of The Sopranos, or has watched Woody Allen's life, has got to know by now that counselling is no kind of solution to anything - it's not even transformative - let alone a solution for something which nobody can predict. like how long one will live.

So what is this obsession with counselling cancer patients? Is it the people working in these resource centres who are in desperate need of counselling? Are they projecting outwards (as I believe the correct phrase would be....)


p.s. just had another phonecall from Chai, to confirm the physiotherapist, and the conversation ended with, "do please come in and feel free to talk anything over at all."

QUOTATION OF THE DAY

"I have lost friends to breast cancer, to AIDS, to car accidents, to things we don’t have answers to. That I lost my mother to someone not washing their hands or cleaning a hospital room properly is disgusting to me."
MAUREEN J. DALY, whose mother developed an infection after shoulder surgery.

July 26, 2007

Hendon Hair...again

"Years ago, when you went to the hairdressers' you really knew you'd been to the hairdresser's!" Karen is telling me with a sigh. This does not augur well. I'm having my hair dried by somebody who's been in the business longer than I've been born. "Oh,"she says with relish, "you'll never guess where I trained?" her face alert with the surprise of it. So I'm thinking, Vidal's on the West Coast maybe? Anyhow, no, she started in Temple Fortune (next suburb along) then went to Golders Green (ditto) for a bit, and for over twenty years she's been in Hendon. I'm at Lawrence's Hair Salon today, on Brent Street. Yes, I know I was going to spend the day in bed, but forgot I had assorted commitments (Chai Cancer Care for Reiki, picking up Nina and chums from last morning at school, so figure I'll get my hair done before tv appointment tonight.)

So, this is scary. Karen's been in hairdressing 46 years, most of that time in Hendon - very loyal clientele. I had decided to introduce some control into this experiment, so when I went into Lawrence's I took a friend's advice and said, "I just want a wash and blow-dry, but not too stiff you know - an under-blow-dry, if possible?" in my most assertive way.

Karen was on the desk. Other people told me there was no chance of an appointment at Lawrence's - one of only three of the more up-market hair salons in the proliferation around here ("Oh, today's lot, that's nothing," Karen told me, "used to be every second store was a hairdressers' in Hendon, those were the days, and some really top-market dress shops too - nothing like it is today. Still you can't stop change, can you?") - on a Thursday or Friday, but as it happens Karen has a space within the hour, which is fine.

"You can tell it's the school holidays, couldn't move in here this time last week - now it's empty," Karen says, so that explains the appointment.

This is the first salon in Hendon where I get asked, "one shampoo or two?" and answer, "uh, one?" and also get asked, "conditioner just at the ends or all the way through?" and say, "all the way through?" also with a question mark because these are questions I don't remember contemplating before.

It is the first time ever in any hairdresser's anywhere in the country that I come across this. The perfectly ordinary experience of the water first being scalding, then freezing, but the very first time the shampooist tells me, "I can't tell the difference between hot and cold, not my whole body, just my hands".

Anyhow, Karen doesn't make me look older, though the signs are not good. Within seconds we're discussing her cruise, she's going to the Meditteranean, and her own hair is pretty rigid and streaked in that way that means business, but she knows what I'm after. "I feel sorry for the young ones starting in business today, you just can't build up the same clientele. Hairdressing's changed, it's all more casual, everybody wants the natural look."

The hard as tacks thin round brush comes out, the mousse goes on ("I know you want natural, so I'm asking if you want mousse") and the tugging begins. But though it's still nothing like a Fourth Floor blowdry - where's the swing, where's the movement? - it's the best blowdry I've had in Hendon yet. Karen has a 77-year-old client who's having a double mastectomy tomorrow - in her time she's also never seen so much breast cancer as now, and she's seen many clients through the chemo baldness and subsequent regrowth. "Your hair's nice and thick, isn't it?" she'd said earlier, so I told her about losing it and it coming back. Most of her chemo clients come back with curly hair; I tell her my theory which is that mine came back straight as it was before because I never wore a wig - I think it's the wigs, and the tight covering of hair which causes the curls, not the chemo.

Karen doesn't ask about hairspray, just says she'll put some on, but it's not as stiff as the Polish version, my fingers do still go through my hair - progress.

£21.50. (Although I always leave £25.00, which is a bit illogical I guess, because the cheaper ones are getting the biggest tip. But the prices are all hovering round the £20 mark for a wash and blow-dry anyhow.)

Huge Day

New (to us beknighted folk this side of the Atlantic, the ones without easy access to latest drugs) at ten pm tonight - the latest Aaron Sorkin. Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. How long have I waited for this to launch on More4? Spending my day working out how many hours I have to stay in bed in order to be able to make it downstairs to the living room to watch television at 10pm....Do I care that the studio's already binned the series? What do they know?

Good things about home versus hospital

1. wireless access so can look up all the stuff on the Guardian quick crossword and it's done by ten or eleven in the morning.

On the other hand....certain satisfaction in hospital about not looking everything up, and then getting it done by eight in the evening, but - you know - without automated help...


2. own supply of morphine. In hospital they take your "controlled drugs" away - very infantilising, as they say, "it's not you dear, but we have other people staying here" - which makes one (me) very self-conscious about dosing the morphine, as directed I should emphasise, "as and when needed".

On the other hand...no, no other hand to this one.

Ahhhh...

Always heart-warming to hear the drugs companies are profiting nicely from their drug-making...as in this story about Glaxo Smith Kline, those makers of Tykerb.