It's not so odd that I always end up having an oncologist appointment during Passover. Of all the appointments that I put off (dentist, etc.) so they're NOT exactly at 6 month intervals - like they're supposed to be - I will always see Dr. Ligresti right on time. And, since as a Jewish professional I have Passover off from work, it makes sense to schedule appointments then. As a matter of fact, on Monday I'm seeing the plastic surgeon, but that's another anxiety-inducing story...
Although I am not thrilled with the location of Dr. Ligresti's new office (I loved that I could get to her in less than 15 minutes, all back roads, for the first 8 years of our acquaintance,) there is a silver lining and its name is Fairway. A year ago, as I was busy being upset at the new office - I didn't know the people, the bathroom was all the way through the waiting room, and I had to travel on Route 17 and find a new destination - stupid reasons - I just couldn't calm down so I sat in my car for a few minutes. And there, like a vision, was the famed then-new Fairway Market, right across the driveway from the medical building. (Do you hear the choir of angels?)
I don't know much about Fairway in general, except there was quite the uproar and hullabaloo and cheering when it opened in Paramus. "Oh my God you wouldn't believe the produce! And the meat! And the fish!" It is, in fact, a wonderland of food. But shopping there is more like going to the Museum of Natural History; you can't do it all in one visit, and you'd be crazy to try. It's sensory overload in the coffee aisle, for one thing. There's a dizzying array of olive oils, the mind-numbing selection of chocolate bars, and the place is a rabbit warren of aisles and nooks. Spices and cheeses and candy, oh my!
But my favorite spot is the smoked fish guy's station (henceforth referred to as "the fish guy.") It's not just lox (salty? nova?) it's also Scottish salmon, Norwegian salmon...there are easily 6 or 7 huge fillets of smoked salmon, plus herring, whitefish (also salad) and goodness knows what else. The lox is not cheap ($8.99 per 1/4 lb) but it is good and it is SO hand-sliced that it's kind of painful to watch in this hurry-up-and-get-someplace-else-quickly world.
My son Andrew clued me in to the "scrap" containers; if you go later in the day they have filled deli tubs containing the lox edges that they carefully sliced off the lox when you buy it, and the contents of the tubs are just as yummy, and far less expensive. So I learned quickly to buy a little lox and a tub and I get just what we need, which is lox slices for Alex and ready-made little pieces for me.
THIS time when I went after my appointment, it was 9 a.m. and there weren't any scrap tubs yet. So I asked the fish guy if I could buy my own scraps and as he s-l-o-w-l-y and c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y sliced my lox he created a fresh scrap tub. While I'm standing there, a man comes to get in line (the line consisting of me and him) and waits patiently through the slicing. He waits patiently while I also get a little creamed herring (a treat) and then...he asks to buy the scrap tub that he's been (patiently) watching get filled with the smelly, oily, yummy pieces.
"Oh no," I think, feeling simultaneously guilty and outraged. "It's mine! Why didn't he ask before he waited all this time?" As the fish guy informed the customer that I had already claimed the scraps and he walked away, I resisted a (very small) urge to go after him and give him the container. But the bit of cotton and tape stuck to the inside of my elbow where they took blood at the doctor's office hurts and itches a bit and reminds me that I get to have some luxury (read: lox) in my life.
(Pause for fond memory that is ALWAYS brought on by the lox scrap tub acquisition: my mom always cut her lox into little tiny pieces and placed each piece "just so" on the freshly cream cheese-d bagel. I thought it was so she could get some lox in every bite but now I'm pretty sure it was so she wouldn't get the stuff stuck in her teeth. To this day, I cannot just lay an entire slice of lox on a bagel when I don't have a knife and fork to tidy it up without a twinge of regret.)
But I regress. (Regression is the entitlement of a blog writer. I'm sure I will come up with other "entitlements" as I need them.)
My visit to Dr. Ligresti this past week was fairly uneventful. She asked me if I was taking my medication (yes) and if I was having side effects (yes, but apparently not badly enough to have me stop) did I get to that colonoscopy yet (sadly, no) and what about an updated bone density scan? (getting there.) She verified that considering the current studies, I'm going to need to take medication for 10 years. For a person who never really took medication, the nightly reminder that I have cancer (still) will be with me for another 7 years or so.
Long-term depressing thoughts aside, April 2015 will be five years since my diagnosis and surgery, and so I will be able to call myself a five year survivor. Dr. Ligresti confirmed that all the studies still maintain that after 5 years of non-recurrence, you have a much better chance of long-term non-recurrence. I know that compared to others I have had a bounty of better results than others, so maybe I shouldn't still be listening for data to make me feel "better" about my prognosis, but I can't help it.
I don't know much about Fairway in general, except there was quite the uproar and hullabaloo and cheering when it opened in Paramus. "Oh my God you wouldn't believe the produce! And the meat! And the fish!" It is, in fact, a wonderland of food. But shopping there is more like going to the Museum of Natural History; you can't do it all in one visit, and you'd be crazy to try. It's sensory overload in the coffee aisle, for one thing. There's a dizzying array of olive oils, the mind-numbing selection of chocolate bars, and the place is a rabbit warren of aisles and nooks. Spices and cheeses and candy, oh my!
But my favorite spot is the smoked fish guy's station (henceforth referred to as "the fish guy.") It's not just lox (salty? nova?) it's also Scottish salmon, Norwegian salmon...there are easily 6 or 7 huge fillets of smoked salmon, plus herring, whitefish (also salad) and goodness knows what else. The lox is not cheap ($8.99 per 1/4 lb) but it is good and it is SO hand-sliced that it's kind of painful to watch in this hurry-up-and-get-someplace-else-quickly world.
My son Andrew clued me in to the "scrap" containers; if you go later in the day they have filled deli tubs containing the lox edges that they carefully sliced off the lox when you buy it, and the contents of the tubs are just as yummy, and far less expensive. So I learned quickly to buy a little lox and a tub and I get just what we need, which is lox slices for Alex and ready-made little pieces for me.
THIS time when I went after my appointment, it was 9 a.m. and there weren't any scrap tubs yet. So I asked the fish guy if I could buy my own scraps and as he s-l-o-w-l-y and c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y sliced my lox he created a fresh scrap tub. While I'm standing there, a man comes to get in line (the line consisting of me and him) and waits patiently through the slicing. He waits patiently while I also get a little creamed herring (a treat) and then...he asks to buy the scrap tub that he's been (patiently) watching get filled with the smelly, oily, yummy pieces.
"Oh no," I think, feeling simultaneously guilty and outraged. "It's mine! Why didn't he ask before he waited all this time?" As the fish guy informed the customer that I had already claimed the scraps and he walked away, I resisted a (very small) urge to go after him and give him the container. But the bit of cotton and tape stuck to the inside of my elbow where they took blood at the doctor's office hurts and itches a bit and reminds me that I get to have some luxury (read: lox) in my life.
(Pause for fond memory that is ALWAYS brought on by the lox scrap tub acquisition: my mom always cut her lox into little tiny pieces and placed each piece "just so" on the freshly cream cheese-d bagel. I thought it was so she could get some lox in every bite but now I'm pretty sure it was so she wouldn't get the stuff stuck in her teeth. To this day, I cannot just lay an entire slice of lox on a bagel when I don't have a knife and fork to tidy it up without a twinge of regret.)
But I regress. (Regression is the entitlement of a blog writer. I'm sure I will come up with other "entitlements" as I need them.)
My visit to Dr. Ligresti this past week was fairly uneventful. She asked me if I was taking my medication (yes) and if I was having side effects (yes, but apparently not badly enough to have me stop) did I get to that colonoscopy yet (sadly, no) and what about an updated bone density scan? (getting there.) She verified that considering the current studies, I'm going to need to take medication for 10 years. For a person who never really took medication, the nightly reminder that I have cancer (still) will be with me for another 7 years or so.
Long-term depressing thoughts aside, April 2015 will be five years since my diagnosis and surgery, and so I will be able to call myself a five year survivor. Dr. Ligresti confirmed that all the studies still maintain that after 5 years of non-recurrence, you have a much better chance of long-term non-recurrence. I know that compared to others I have had a bounty of better results than others, so maybe I shouldn't still be listening for data to make me feel "better" about my prognosis, but I can't help it.
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