Yesterday afternoon, in the middle of religious school, it felt a little like time stopped when I saw on my cell that Dr. McIntosh's office was calling. So, now we have a date: June 28, 10 a.m.
It was a lot further off than I thought it would be, and I was surprised to feel a little let down! On the other hand, it allows me over a month to do preparation at work for next year and it means Ari will be all done with school and officially "on vacation." So he can join Alex in being available to help.
From everything I have learned today from Dr. D'Amico, the surgery should take about 4 hours and I will probably be in the hospital only 48 hours, so hopefully home that Wednesday. The rest of the process is a lot longer, and if I need chemo, longer still. (They won't "install" the final implants until a month after any treatment is over.) And, that process is done under general anesthesia although it does not take very long.
But distraction came in the form of work: Luckily, last night was a special Kadimah program that quite spontaneously erupted into half the students on the bimah singing "Don't Stop Believin'" (made popular again by the TV show "Glee") and the other half rocking and singing in the pews. We made the most of the new sound system as Rabbi David Segal provided backup lyrics and music, courtesy of his laptop and Journey's original recording. We ended past our official closing time of 8:30, but not a child moved from that room until the song was over. It was really quite magical and one of those things you want to take a snapshot of - and look at once in a while - and smile like crazy.
Then tonight was our Shavuot and Confirmation service, and the five young women and five young men were really quite inspired and inspiring. Ari was one of the members of his class (next year's Confirmands) to symbolically "receive" the Torah from this year's group, which was especially fun for me, of course. Then the final song's (part of my "new favorite song" list) verses were sung by one of the girls (brava, CC), and it was especially moving to hear it so beautifully done. So many proud families in that room; it was hard to know who to watch!
And so ends the penultimate week of my seventh year as head of this religious school. I'm not sure I've ever felt in control all the way to May before (usually by February all the planning has gone by the wayside and we're flying by the seats of our pants,) and I'm very proud of the whole endeavor. It's nice to feel in control of something, for sure.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
We Love Our Teachers!
Tonight was, among other things, our Teacher Appreciation Shabbat. It was really wonderful, and I am including my speech here because it illustrates well how I feel about my job and my teaching staff:
"I wanted to pick a nice Jewish quotation to begin tonight, but the one that kept running through my mind wasn’t Jewish: Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.
I don’t know if Confucious was exactly right. After all, some days do seem like work, no matter how much you love your profession! But the feeling I get from the people you see here is that they love the job of teaching your children. I see it in every classroom, on every bulletin board, in every lesson plan, and in every day of the seven years I have had the privilege of leading them. I don’t think I could come to this job that I love without them.
And I owe an extra debt of gratitude to two of you in particular - for Rabbi Joel Mosbacher and Cantor David Perper are not just extraordinary in their dedication to our congregation as clergy. They are extraordinary in their dedication to teaching as a part of this school’s amazing team. Cantor Perper has rejuvenated our weekday and Sunday t’filot and brought his talents to unique Kadimah offerings, and Rabbi Mosbacher is a Kadimah teacher, a Family School teacher, sometimes a substitute teacher, MY teacher – There are no speeches or certificates long enough to thank you both sufficiently.
And now, I'd like to speak about Barbara Schwartz. For 26 years, Barbara, you have been teaching our children. Tonight we have invited one of your former students, Sharon Cohen Ramsey, to help honor you, but if any of Mrs. Schwartz’s other students are here tonight, I would invite them to come up as well. (At this point pretty much every child in the room came up to stand by Mrs. Schwartz and she was given a bouquet of flowers.)
Barbara, you have welcomed hundreds of young Jewish boys and girls into a religion that you obviously love. Your caring and dedication show themselves with every day you come through these doors with a smile on your face and endless enthusiasm for your work. It is clear that every child has been special to you, and on behalf of everyone who works with you I would like to say a very public “Thank You.”
The quote that I chose for your certificates this year, by Jewish scholar and educator Abraham Joshua Heschel, reads: “What we need more than anything else is not text-books but text-people. It is the personality of the teacher which is the text that the pupils read; the text that they will never forget."
Not only does Rabbi Heschel coin a new phrase – text-people, which felt so right to me as a description of you all as teachers, but he also put a literary finger on how each of your unique personalities are creating memories for your students, for me, and for each other, that will last a lifetime. Shabbat Shalom. "
Then after the oneg the teachers who remained and I went across the road to the Mason Jar restaurant for drinks (some of my teachers are fans of tequila shots!) and laughter. (We were very loud and took great pride in explaining to the waiter that we were teachers from the synagogue across the street.) Got home around 11. Lovely ending to a lovely evening.
Thanks to Rod, Ralph, & Joel, who drove home to deal with the kids while we had some fun.
"I wanted to pick a nice Jewish quotation to begin tonight, but the one that kept running through my mind wasn’t Jewish: Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.
I don’t know if Confucious was exactly right. After all, some days do seem like work, no matter how much you love your profession! But the feeling I get from the people you see here is that they love the job of teaching your children. I see it in every classroom, on every bulletin board, in every lesson plan, and in every day of the seven years I have had the privilege of leading them. I don’t think I could come to this job that I love without them.
And I owe an extra debt of gratitude to two of you in particular - for Rabbi Joel Mosbacher and Cantor David Perper are not just extraordinary in their dedication to our congregation as clergy. They are extraordinary in their dedication to teaching as a part of this school’s amazing team. Cantor Perper has rejuvenated our weekday and Sunday t’filot and brought his talents to unique Kadimah offerings, and Rabbi Mosbacher is a Kadimah teacher, a Family School teacher, sometimes a substitute teacher, MY teacher – There are no speeches or certificates long enough to thank you both sufficiently.
And now, I'd like to speak about Barbara Schwartz. For 26 years, Barbara, you have been teaching our children. Tonight we have invited one of your former students, Sharon Cohen Ramsey, to help honor you, but if any of Mrs. Schwartz’s other students are here tonight, I would invite them to come up as well. (At this point pretty much every child in the room came up to stand by Mrs. Schwartz and she was given a bouquet of flowers.)
Barbara, you have welcomed hundreds of young Jewish boys and girls into a religion that you obviously love. Your caring and dedication show themselves with every day you come through these doors with a smile on your face and endless enthusiasm for your work. It is clear that every child has been special to you, and on behalf of everyone who works with you I would like to say a very public “Thank You.”
The quote that I chose for your certificates this year, by Jewish scholar and educator Abraham Joshua Heschel, reads: “What we need more than anything else is not text-books but text-people. It is the personality of the teacher which is the text that the pupils read; the text that they will never forget."
Not only does Rabbi Heschel coin a new phrase – text-people, which felt so right to me as a description of you all as teachers, but he also put a literary finger on how each of your unique personalities are creating memories for your students, for me, and for each other, that will last a lifetime. Shabbat Shalom. "
Then after the oneg the teachers who remained and I went across the road to the Mason Jar restaurant for drinks (some of my teachers are fans of tequila shots!) and laughter. (We were very loud and took great pride in explaining to the waiter that we were teachers from the synagogue across the street.) Got home around 11. Lovely ending to a lovely evening.
Thanks to Rod, Ralph, & Joel, who drove home to deal with the kids while we had some fun.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
So I've Made a Decision. Now Can I Get a Good Night's Sleep, Please?
Today I called Dr. McIntosh's office and asked the nurse, Pat, to set up the double mastectomy surgery, and to coordinate it with the plastic surgeon, Dr. D'Amico, for a reconstruction using implants. That's who we met on Tuesday and despite the fact that his website was pretty slick and I expected not to like him, I did.
It feels like the right decision. I always hated the idea of the longer surgery - this would be about a little more than a third of the time of the TRAM flap - and we have learned more about the possibility of long-term failure with using my own tissue from the abdomen. (It's greater due to the radiation I had on the left side back in '07. The radiation killed off all the potential cancer cells, but it also could limit that area's ability to make good circulation "reconnections". At least that's how I understand things to work. Or not, as the case may be.)
On Tuesday, Dr. D'Amico had asked us go home to think and to "take emotion out of the decision," which sounded like a complete impossibility. After all, logic was about as far from my brain as it could be at this point. But of course he was right; a big decision like this needs reason, and even though it could really only be mine to make, I needed to talk it through with Rod and also my dad.
Although I know (too many) people who have had wonderful experiences with, and highly recommend, the TRAM flap surgery, apparently it is not for me.
After she told me the surgery would probably be around the first or second week of June (but she'll call with the date,) and before she said good-bye, Pat said I had made a "good decision." Now, I don't know that she doesn't say that to everyone, but I know it made me feel better and right now better is how I'd like to feel.
It feels like the right decision. I always hated the idea of the longer surgery - this would be about a little more than a third of the time of the TRAM flap - and we have learned more about the possibility of long-term failure with using my own tissue from the abdomen. (It's greater due to the radiation I had on the left side back in '07. The radiation killed off all the potential cancer cells, but it also could limit that area's ability to make good circulation "reconnections". At least that's how I understand things to work. Or not, as the case may be.)
On Tuesday, Dr. D'Amico had asked us go home to think and to "take emotion out of the decision," which sounded like a complete impossibility. After all, logic was about as far from my brain as it could be at this point. But of course he was right; a big decision like this needs reason, and even though it could really only be mine to make, I needed to talk it through with Rod and also my dad.
Although I know (too many) people who have had wonderful experiences with, and highly recommend, the TRAM flap surgery, apparently it is not for me.
After she told me the surgery would probably be around the first or second week of June (but she'll call with the date,) and before she said good-bye, Pat said I had made a "good decision." Now, I don't know that she doesn't say that to everyone, but I know it made me feel better and right now better is how I'd like to feel.
Monday, May 10, 2010
But Mother's Day Was Lovely
Friday night was Sisterhood Shabbat and there were a lot of great readings. At the end some of us got up and led "Miriam's Song" and I really thought I was feeling better. Hah.
Saturday dawned rainy and dark and I was looking forward to my morning with Ari. We were supposed to go to services, then drop off the dry cleaning, turn in some ink at Staples (and maybe buy a little something) and then hit Starbuck's on the way home. It was a good plan, and it would have been great, except I realized too late that probably Ari hadn't bought into it. (Too late meaning after I was dressed and ready to go and he wasn't.)
So, off in a huff I went, which downgraded to a (and I believe this would be appropriate to the atmospheric and psychological outlook at the time) tropical depression the closer I got to the synagogue. By the time I arrived, I could not figure out how to "fix" myself, and I hoped that I could get kind of lost in Shabbat and maybe it (or she, technically) would do that for me. Again, Hah.
In an effort to continually not start crying during such an obviously joyful occasion for the two young men becoming B'nai Mitzvah and their friends and family, I left before the first hour was up and continued to the dry cleaner, and Staples where (imaginary angelic choir sings in background here) the literal and figurative sun came out, I found 4 packages of glitter glue that were on my school-prep-for-next-year shopping list in the clearance bin (!) and two shapes of Post-It notes I didn't have, which were covered completely by my Ink rewards coupon and were therefore free. HAH!
On to Starbuck's for a sandwich and a black tea latte (tastes like the "sick" tea I used to have when I was little, with all the milk and sugar) and home to sip, study, sit and smell the sun-scented breezy fresh air through the screen door.
I spent a long time like that, only stopping for the welcome visit of our friends the Mosbachers who had "hiked" over (okay, a half mile around the block, but it was a half mile back too, and uphill) with Elyssa's freshly baked scones. By then I had forgiven Ari for his inadvertent tipping the balance of my precarious mental state. He just happened to be there at the time when the inevitable finally happened, I figure.
I was due this 24 hours; I just didn't see it coming. And, I'll bet I'm due another one (or two or three) somewhere before this whole stupid ordeal is over.
Saturday dawned rainy and dark and I was looking forward to my morning with Ari. We were supposed to go to services, then drop off the dry cleaning, turn in some ink at Staples (and maybe buy a little something) and then hit Starbuck's on the way home. It was a good plan, and it would have been great, except I realized too late that probably Ari hadn't bought into it. (Too late meaning after I was dressed and ready to go and he wasn't.)
So, off in a huff I went, which downgraded to a (and I believe this would be appropriate to the atmospheric and psychological outlook at the time) tropical depression the closer I got to the synagogue. By the time I arrived, I could not figure out how to "fix" myself, and I hoped that I could get kind of lost in Shabbat and maybe it (or she, technically) would do that for me. Again, Hah.
In an effort to continually not start crying during such an obviously joyful occasion for the two young men becoming B'nai Mitzvah and their friends and family, I left before the first hour was up and continued to the dry cleaner, and Staples where (imaginary angelic choir sings in background here) the literal and figurative sun came out, I found 4 packages of glitter glue that were on my school-prep-for-next-year shopping list in the clearance bin (!) and two shapes of Post-It notes I didn't have, which were covered completely by my Ink rewards coupon and were therefore free. HAH!
On to Starbuck's for a sandwich and a black tea latte (tastes like the "sick" tea I used to have when I was little, with all the milk and sugar) and home to sip, study, sit and smell the sun-scented breezy fresh air through the screen door.
I spent a long time like that, only stopping for the welcome visit of our friends the Mosbachers who had "hiked" over (okay, a half mile around the block, but it was a half mile back too, and uphill) with Elyssa's freshly baked scones. By then I had forgiven Ari for his inadvertent tipping the balance of my precarious mental state. He just happened to be there at the time when the inevitable finally happened, I figure.
I was due this 24 hours; I just didn't see it coming. And, I'll bet I'm due another one (or two or three) somewhere before this whole stupid ordeal is over.
Friday, May 7, 2010
I Know It Could Always Be Worse (but, come on, now.........)
We met with a potential plastic surgeon today in what felt like a marathon consultation. We started out from Rod's office at 10:30 for a 12:15 appointment, made amazing time into the city, arrived in the office at about 11:30 after parking in a (guaranteed by the neighborhood) very pricey garage, and were told that we had to wait until 12:15.
This was, after all a Fifth Avenue plastic surgeon. (Okay, so the address of the office is Fifth Avenue. But once you get to the building, you don't get to go in the cool doorman entrance; you have to go around the corner.) In a classic stereotype of sorts, many clients were there for botox and peels and such, and all the personnel there were both thin and shapely. Really uplifting (har har) to those of us not in the same condition. On reflection, the oncologist's office was a jollier place.
Well, we didn't get in until about 12:45, I think, and were there until about 2:30. He spent a lot of time talking to us, drawing nifty diagrams, and doing an exam (think, "before" photos.) But, he prefers to do a particular type of micro-reconstruction surgery, and it can only be done in New York due to the fact that his surgical partner can not operate in NJ, AND it takes around 9 hours. Nice guy, and I'm sure he's really good at what he does.
We are now even more educated about what our choices are, but no closer to having the "decision" conversation than we were last night. So, off to a 2nd opinion next Tuesday in Englewood, with another doctor from Dr. McIntosh's recommended list.
I need, need, need (!) to tell myself that the next two days are not for dwelling on what we still can't figure out. I need instead to take advantage of what a weekend holds - a chance to suspend medical reality, and an opportunity to catch up on rest and gather new energy to face the week ahead.
Maybe some Shabbat will help. As my grandmother would say, Nu? What could be bad?
This was, after all a Fifth Avenue plastic surgeon. (Okay, so the address of the office is Fifth Avenue. But once you get to the building, you don't get to go in the cool doorman entrance; you have to go around the corner.) In a classic stereotype of sorts, many clients were there for botox and peels and such, and all the personnel there were both thin and shapely. Really uplifting (har har) to those of us not in the same condition. On reflection, the oncologist's office was a jollier place.
Well, we didn't get in until about 12:45, I think, and were there until about 2:30. He spent a lot of time talking to us, drawing nifty diagrams, and doing an exam (think, "before" photos.) But, he prefers to do a particular type of micro-reconstruction surgery, and it can only be done in New York due to the fact that his surgical partner can not operate in NJ, AND it takes around 9 hours. Nice guy, and I'm sure he's really good at what he does.
We are now even more educated about what our choices are, but no closer to having the "decision" conversation than we were last night. So, off to a 2nd opinion next Tuesday in Englewood, with another doctor from Dr. McIntosh's recommended list.
I need, need, need (!) to tell myself that the next two days are not for dwelling on what we still can't figure out. I need instead to take advantage of what a weekend holds - a chance to suspend medical reality, and an opportunity to catch up on rest and gather new energy to face the week ahead.
Maybe some Shabbat will help. As my grandmother would say, Nu? What could be bad?
Thursday, May 6, 2010
No News is No News
I'm posting tonight because I said we were going to the oncologist today and we did. (It's not that I think you all are out there just hanging around waiting to hear something, but just in case you are.....)
Along with seeing her again and re-verifying for ourselves that she's smart, realistic, up to date on all the newest studies, and completely kind and caring, Dr. Ligresti gave us things to think about towards making some kind of surgical decision. She really won't come back into the picture until we find out more about this particular cancer, which (partially due to the less dramatic biopsy I had this time) won't be known until a surgery and a bigger sample can be examined.
Tomorrow we'll consult with a plastic surgeon to see what is possible should it come to a reconstruction, but only one thing is clear: Rod & I will talk (and knowing us, there will probably be a spreadsheet of some kind involved) and hopefully we'll come to the conclusion that there is one option we're more comfortable with.
Then we'll make a decision, call the breast surgeon to get the ball rolling, and wait to see if we have any pick of dates or if we just go when she (Dr. McIntosh) says. She's already booking surgeries into June, and if she does need to coordinate with a plastic surgeon, get on the surgical calendar at the hospital, etc., well, who knows what that means for timing.
Minor bit of good news - contrary to what I've been hearing about the time the bigger operation would take (anywhere from 6 to 9 hours,) she estimates 4 hours.
Funny how one's definition of good news changes, isn't it?
Along with seeing her again and re-verifying for ourselves that she's smart, realistic, up to date on all the newest studies, and completely kind and caring, Dr. Ligresti gave us things to think about towards making some kind of surgical decision. She really won't come back into the picture until we find out more about this particular cancer, which (partially due to the less dramatic biopsy I had this time) won't be known until a surgery and a bigger sample can be examined.
Tomorrow we'll consult with a plastic surgeon to see what is possible should it come to a reconstruction, but only one thing is clear: Rod & I will talk (and knowing us, there will probably be a spreadsheet of some kind involved) and hopefully we'll come to the conclusion that there is one option we're more comfortable with.
Then we'll make a decision, call the breast surgeon to get the ball rolling, and wait to see if we have any pick of dates or if we just go when she (Dr. McIntosh) says. She's already booking surgeries into June, and if she does need to coordinate with a plastic surgeon, get on the surgical calendar at the hospital, etc., well, who knows what that means for timing.
Minor bit of good news - contrary to what I've been hearing about the time the bigger operation would take (anywhere from 6 to 9 hours,) she estimates 4 hours.
Funny how one's definition of good news changes, isn't it?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Trying to Find a Place Between Cold Reality and Rose-Colored Glasses
Today I visited our internist, who told me I looked "great" and was exceedingly upbeat in my demeanor (or something like that.) He said he knew I'd make it through this, but under the circumstances I certainly deserved to be less cheerful. I asked him - well, what was my other choice?
Option 1: Sitting in my chair or my bed or elsewhere, doing nothing and being afraid.
Option 2: Doing most things I ordinarily do, trying to be cheerful about it, throwing that nervous energy into some really good advance planning for when I might be a little laid up, and being afraid.
Note here that being afraid is a component of each choice; aside from being (I guess) drugged to the point of not caring, feeling the fear is part and parcel of feeling all the other stuff - like excitement(the Red Sox win sometimes,) awe (witnessing the ordination of now-Rabbi David Segal in an over 3-hour long ceremony that felt shorter and so amazing,) pride (family & work all going as it should,) gratitude (to Rod for all his caring,) happiness (to see all of the teachers celebrated this month at a special service - and at another school year successfully completed.) The list goes on, but the bottom line is this: if I want to feel good, I'm going to have to accept that sometimes I'll feel bad too.
I'm pretty sure this is not a concept unique to me or even my current situation, but until I wrote it out I didn't think about the fact that I WANT to feel all the good stuff; I don't want to spend the next few weeks, or month, or however long it is until I wake up from a surgery, doing nothing but being afraid. I want to stuff the fear behind the proverbial sofa cushions in my head, to be rediscovered long after it is past its "sell by" date and toss it out in the trash. (Maybe it could go in the recycle bin because I could recycle it into strength and resolve during the recovery phase. That would be cool.)
So, my first doctor of the week was very reassuring, kind, and tried to help me figure out my miscellaneous aches and pains. He gave me a nice muscle relaxant called Meloxicam (aka Mobic)and if that works to alleviate some of this, I think I can attribute the rest to stress. (Imagine that - stress!) For that, he says, it's time to break out the prescription he wrote for Atavan. Lovely guy.
Tomorrow being a physician-free day, I'm looking forward to teaching one of my adult classes, having lunch out with a friend (Hi Shari!)and momentarily tucking the fear maybe not all the way back behind those cushions, but just under the dirty clothes in the hamper. Come laundry day...........oh well.
Option 1: Sitting in my chair or my bed or elsewhere, doing nothing and being afraid.
Option 2: Doing most things I ordinarily do, trying to be cheerful about it, throwing that nervous energy into some really good advance planning for when I might be a little laid up, and being afraid.
Note here that being afraid is a component of each choice; aside from being (I guess) drugged to the point of not caring, feeling the fear is part and parcel of feeling all the other stuff - like excitement(the Red Sox win sometimes,) awe (witnessing the ordination of now-Rabbi David Segal in an over 3-hour long ceremony that felt shorter and so amazing,) pride (family & work all going as it should,) gratitude (to Rod for all his caring,) happiness (to see all of the teachers celebrated this month at a special service - and at another school year successfully completed.) The list goes on, but the bottom line is this: if I want to feel good, I'm going to have to accept that sometimes I'll feel bad too.
I'm pretty sure this is not a concept unique to me or even my current situation, but until I wrote it out I didn't think about the fact that I WANT to feel all the good stuff; I don't want to spend the next few weeks, or month, or however long it is until I wake up from a surgery, doing nothing but being afraid. I want to stuff the fear behind the proverbial sofa cushions in my head, to be rediscovered long after it is past its "sell by" date and toss it out in the trash. (Maybe it could go in the recycle bin because I could recycle it into strength and resolve during the recovery phase. That would be cool.)
So, my first doctor of the week was very reassuring, kind, and tried to help me figure out my miscellaneous aches and pains. He gave me a nice muscle relaxant called Meloxicam (aka Mobic)and if that works to alleviate some of this, I think I can attribute the rest to stress. (Imagine that - stress!) For that, he says, it's time to break out the prescription he wrote for Atavan. Lovely guy.
Tomorrow being a physician-free day, I'm looking forward to teaching one of my adult classes, having lunch out with a friend (Hi Shari!)and momentarily tucking the fear maybe not all the way back behind those cushions, but just under the dirty clothes in the hamper. Come laundry day...........oh well.
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