Remembering Jenn

It was at the beginning of my breast cancer diagnosis that I met Jenn. We met online in a chatroom for young breast cancer survivors. She contacted me and told me she was a year out from her diagnosis and offered her advice and experiences to guide me through mine. She was one of the first young women I met with breast cancer. Everyone at my doctor's office was ancient. What could I have in common with a 65 yr old woman with children and grandchildren whom I was the same age? Jenn came to me at a time where I really needed encouragement and to not feel alone. We talked all the time online and if I had a question I asked her. When I was depressed, she urged me to get help. Because of her, I went to a psychologist and started taking anti-depressants. If not for that, I wouldn't have had the strength to keep fighting.
With Jenn, it wasn't the breast cancer that kept our friendship alive, it was her. She was a lot like me. Despite her being born and raised in the mid-west and me being a real east coast gal, we hit it off. She had so much spunk and life in her. I was always interested in her latest antics. She told me things about her life and her interests that always kept me wondering, 'what is this girl up to now'????
Over the years we we friends, she came to see me 3 times in Miami. The first time she was still stage II while I was stage IV. I remember her telling me after she became stage IV she didn't know how to deal with my prognosis. If she did have issues dealing, I never saw it. She hid it very well. The second time, she had a second primary in her other breast. The third time, it went everywhere.
After knowing Jenn for so long, I had a feeling she wouldn't be the kind of person to keep fighting and living through what seemed to be a very poor prognosis. Luckily, I was wrong. She surprised everyone with her will and her spirit to live. She became the strongest woman I have seen in the face of this beast. Despite having metastasis in her brain with over 100 tumors, a large tumor in her lung, and some of her bones, she continued to live. She traveled. She went to Hawaii, Jamaica, New York, Miami, Disney World, and a cruise to the Carribbean. She had plans to go to Australia, but she got too sick at that point.
Jenn had a goal in her life. One goal that she actively sought. She wanted to be loved. Not friendship love by friends, I believe she felt that kind of love. But, it was the elusive intimate love she wanted more than anything in this world. She had many relationships where she would fall hard in love. However, a lot of times, this love wasn't returned. She struggled with this for a long time. Being an adopted child with no father figure, she always knew seeking this love was a result of her upbringing. It was especially difficult for me to witness. I had the love of a man from the beginning of my diagnosis. I tried to understand, but it was always something that eluded me. Why try so hard for a man's love? Love yourself first. No man will ever give you the kind of love you are seeking. I think she wanted "approval love". The kind you can only feel from within. The old addage is true, you have to love yourself before anyone can love you.
Jenn met a man during this time in her life. His name was Malcolm. At first, he was everything she ever wanted. He showered her with attention, love, and intimacy. They went on 2 vacations together and she thouroughly enjoyed his company. But, there was somthing about him. He wouldn't completely give himself to her. Was it the cancer? Or, was it him? I had a bad feeling this guy was in it for the good times. Unfortunatley, after the trips, the dinners, gifts, and good times, he was gone. She had paid his way for a good time and he chose to date others, not fully becoming hers. I hated him. No, I despised him. While he was good for her for 2 months, the pain of losing him and not knowing if it was real, killed Jenn inside. But, like the fighter she was, she went on. She kept living. I admire her for that, among a lot of other things.

Jenn taught me to not be afraid to live. To keep on going even when you think you can't. To keep experiencing new things and never let anyone tell you what you like or want is wrong.
Jenn I celebrate your life and what you taught me every day. I hate that I can't talk to you anymore. I miss you and your crazy stories! You were always there for me and I only hope I am doing a good job at what you taught me. To live every day.....like it was your last.

Remembering Kristi

I was introduced to Kristi from my chemo nurse. She told me all about Kristi, how she is my age, she is super cool and how she loves her like a daughter. She said we'd get along very well! She was right. I met Kristi in the middle of Debra's story and she knew of Debra too. We talked about her a lot, as well as our own diagnoses, treatments, and how we were so similar. We were the same age (33), same metastasis (bones) and very similar treatments. She was diagnosed in 2000 and I in 1998. We never had treatment together (we were off schedule with one another), but she did visit me while I was getting mine. It was so nice to meet someone like me, especially right at my doctor's office. Most of the time I have to meet people online, since it is still rare to find women my age with breast cancer.
Kristi and I would talk for hours on the phone. She had 2 kids, that was another difference! But, we did have the same dog, a Min Pin. That was quite coincidental! She was married, lived nearby, a native of FL and loved country music (OK so we didn't have everything in common!)
When Debra died, we went to her funeral together. I remember being with her was the only way I could have gotten through that. We hugged and supported each other and kept saying, we have to go on, Deb would want it that way. We can't think that we are next. I remember distinctly, standing by our cars as we left Debra's sister's house and saying we are in this together. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help worrying about her. Kristi had been having headaches, nausea, and vomiting. She had scans and bloodwork but nothing showed up. I believe this had been going on since March and here it was June. The radiologists and neurologist said there was nothing wrong, and chalked it up to anxiety. She was having panic attacks because the pain wasn't dissapearing, no matter how much they told her it was nothing.
Finally, after 3 months, they decided to scan her again. MRI of the brain for the 3rd time. This time, something showed. It was a lesion in the brain, not something they would have expected to cause all that nausea and headaches. So, they recommended she have a spinal tap to see if any cancer cells were in her spinal fluid. Kristi called me on a Wednesday and told me it was positive for cancer cells. I was quiet and didn't know what to say. She told me they were planning on putting a reservoir directly into her spinal cord and administering chemo, this would get rid of 80% of the cancer cells. WOW, I thought, great news. There is HOPE!
The next day, I find out that Kristi had a seizure in the shower and she was admitted to ICU.
THIS CAN'T BE RIGHT.... She JUST found out about the spinal cord? How can this happen so soon? I went to see her Friday. I was warned she may not recognize me, since she was having memory trouble after the seizure. I went into the room and she was sleeping. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and said with the biggest smile, "HEY BABY". Tears welled up in my eyes. I said, "Hi Sweetie", "What happened to you?". She just murmered, "I don't know, I don't know". I talked for a few minutes with her friends that were at her bedside. They told me she is resting comfortably, no pain. Her husband was on his way in, and her mom was outside. At that point the ICU nurse asked us to leave so Kristi could rest. That was the last time I saw her.

I spoke to her husband Saturday and he told me they were moving her to a regular room and she would be released Monday to get that reservoir put in. She had a brain radiation treatment already in the hospital. I felt good about that, the treatments were starting, she was on the road to recovery. Sunday came, and I didn't hear from anyone. Monday I called, she was back in ICU. DAMN. She had another seizure, this time it was more serious, she lost consciousness. Not realizing what was happening, I didn't go to the hospital. It was an hour drive and I had chemo scheduled for Tuesday, and I figured I could go there after, since the hospital was next door to where I go for chemo.
Tuesday morning. I am driving to my chemo appointment, it's 10:30am. My phone rings, it's her best friend. "Kristi passed away this morning". Shock, disbelief, anger, tears are streaming. HOW CAN THIS HAPPEN? She was FINE, a week ago she was just like me. Bone mets, that was IT. How can she go to just bone mets to dead in a week? I have that answer....

In March, she started with the headaches and nausea. In March she had an MRI. In March the neurologist said she was fine. SHE WASN'T. Maybe if the neurologist actually talked to the radiologist and the radiologist showed the neurologist the films, they could have seen her brain was not normal. THEY POINT BLANK MISSED IT! Something may have been done for her back in March. How can "competent" medical professionals who are in the medical field for decades do this? This kind of behavior is not acceptable, and it has to be punished. Unfortunately, there are a lot of frivilous medical malpractice lawsuits out there, but this is NOT one of them. The only way to punish these "doctors" is to hit them in the wallet where it hurts. Kristi didn't deserve to be treated like this. She didn't deserve to have 5 dayswith this diagnosis without getting the chance to fight. I know how Kristi was, she was like me, a fighter. If she had the chance she would be here right now. I know that for a fact!
At her funeral I was numb. This feeling was different than at Debra's. It was unbelievable. Surreal. So fast. Debra's, while it was tragic, wasn't like this. She had the chance to fight. Kristi was taken, without warning. That was harder to deal with, for me and for a lot of people.
This wasn't they way it was supposed to happen. Really it shouldn't happen at all. Whether you linger, or you go fast, it ISN'T FAIR!
I can't even talk about Kristi to our oncologist. Not only does he feel the loss, it was especially difficult for a doctor who was trying to do everything he could to save her life, only to realize he never had an exact diagnosis.
I miss her a lot. I try to tell myself that she didn't suffer. She is in a better place, without pain, worry, or fear. It's hard to explain but part of me feels envious. I don't want to leave here just yet, however I want to feel ONE day without worry and fear. I have brief moments, but it's always with me, always. So are you Kristi my dear, sweet friend.

Remembering Debra

I was thinking about the friends that I have lost recently. I want to always keep them in my heart and in my mind. I feel if I remember them in some small way, I am honoring their lives. They were so different, from me and from each other, yet so similar how we lived our lives with breast cancer. In the next few days I will dedicate my entries to three courageous, amazing women that I had the privilege of meeting: Debra, Kristi, and Jenn.

Debra, who died in June 2004, was someone I had met through my oncologists office. We met in 2002 while she was having her last treatment for her first diagnosis. I was having my usual weekly treament for metastatic cancer. She was so excited that it was her last time having to be subjected to the chemo and it's nasty side effects. I was happy for her and recalled my last chemo, or what I thought was my last chemo. Despite being sad for me, I was genuinely happy for her. She was talking about getting married and I told her I was married right after chemo too. She asked me about my hair growth and I told her not to worry it will be fine. We exchanged some more small talk and then the question came. "How many more treatments do you have, Lisa?". Do I tell or don't I? Should I be honest, or should I sugar coat? I decided to be honest. I had to since I couldn't think of a plausible lie as to what I am doing there. I tell her I am a "lifer", someone who will be in and out of these chairs for the rest of her life. Her face changes. I can see the fear in her eyes. Luckliy, at this point I am on my way out the door. I don't have to stick around and tell her the nasty details. I leave the office and I feel bad. Very bad that I just turned someone who was so happy into someone with fear and uncertainty. I hate this disease!

A few months later I talk to a survivor friend of mine. She tells me about her friend Debra. I am not putting it together yet, and she reminds me she went to the same doctor as me. Now I know who we are talking about. She tells me she has had a recurrence, to her nodes, just as I did. Wow, life is weird. Her nodes in her chest were affected, mine were under my arm, still the coincidence is there. I don't hear anything further, except after her treatment of more chemo, she is moving to Paris.

Then, in May of 2004, I am at my doctor's office when a young woman walks in with her family. I take notice right away, since there are so few young women at the office. I look closely and I recognize her, it's Deb. She is smaller than I remember and looks very tired. Then she starts coughing, a lot. I approach her and she remembers me. We also mention we have a mutual friend, Sue. We talk and just as survivors often do, we begin rehashing our entire diagnoses, treatments, and prognoses. We get lost in the conversation, which encompasses the time we are waiting to be seen by the doctor. One of us gets called in.
I meet up with her again in the "green room" where we all get our cocktails. We sit next to each other while getting treated. She is very depressed and not at all in the fighting mindset. I tell her to get on some anti-depressants, they helped me, they can certainly help her. We make a pact to come back each week and support each other. While it's comforting to have a woman just like you to lean on, the reality is at some point one or both of us won't be able to keep that pact.
Weeks go by and I keep missing Deb at her treatments. I ask about her every time. One of the doctors thanks me for talking to her. Seems I have helped her get that fighting spirit back. I am glad I could do something to help.
A few more weeks go by and I am checking in at the doctor's office. The receptionist, Andrea tells me Deb is there. FINALLY, I get to see her and we can have treatment together. But I read her and I can see something is wrong. I ask how she is. I get an answer, "Not good, not good at all". What does that mean? Andrea says she has to prepare me. PREPARE ME FOR WHAT???? She isn't going to make it very much longer. WHAT? This has got to be a joke. A sick joke. I understand what she is saying, but my body grows numb. My dad is with me and he is hating this. He doesn't want me to go back there. But, I have to.
I was there for my first chemo infusion of Doxil. Before getting there, I am ruminating over the prospects of yet another chemo. Now, it's all about Deb. I couldn't care less what they put in my IV. I am focused on her. What will she look like? What am I walking into? What do I say?
After what seemed like an eternity, I get called in. My dad is giving me the look. The look says he wants to throw a blanket over me and carry me out. He knows I have to go and see her.
She is in the furthest exam room. I make it to the door and I see her mom. She is holding Deb's hand. Deb is resting on an exam table. Her mom looks at me and I am about to lose it. I keep it together, not knowing what to say and afraid to open my mouth and let the tears flow. I tell her when Deb wakes up to come and get me.
I get to the "green room" and her mom comes in. Deb's awake and wants to see me. Dad, I HAVE TO GO. As I get closer to the room I can hear her coughing. She is struggling for air, and I am uncomfortable for her and for me. Her oxygen is at full blast. She is resting for the first 2 minutes I am there. We make small talk. There is an elephant in the room and no one wants to recognize it. She is dying. Deb tells me she is ready for it to be over. She can't do this anymore. I tell her it's OK. Her sister and mother are outside the room but I know they can hear me. I asked God at that moment, what do I say, how can I comfort her? The only thing I can say is "This world is hell, and we are the lucky ones that get to leave and go somewhere better". Of course I don't remember the exact words, but that was the jist. I am hopeful that is the truth. This can't be all there is. It just can't. There is too much sorrow, disease, war, famine, anger, hate, prejudice....(I can go on), for this world to be all there is. I know there has to be something more, something better, something beautiful, something eternal. And Deb went there the next morning.
In retrospect I am glad I shared that moment with her. While it was one of the hardest things I have done, I needed to be there. I only hope I was a comfort to her and her family. I remember her, even though we briefly knew each other, as a friend and as a sister in this disease.

My first entry

Where to start?
I guess at the beginning.....
Since this site is mainly for my cancer updates, I will start at the waaay beginning, 1998.

I was dx in Oct 1998 after feeling a pea-sized lump on my right breast. I was in nursing school at the time, 2 months from graduation. I went to "Planned Parenthood" and saw a 90 yr old nurse who told me it "may be something to look into further". I didn't waste a minute. Called a family physician and made an appointment ASAP. Another nurse told me, "Hmmm you are too young for breast cancer, but let's get it checked out for peace of mind".

Skip to after the mammogram.....

Got a message from the doctor's office. Medical assistant calls...."You have microcalc....ci...ci...fi....fications (chick had no idea how it was pronounced or what it was) in your breast and you need to go to a surgeon ASAP". FREAK OUT TIME....RUN TO COMPUTER TYPE IN 'MICROCALCIFICATIONS BREAST'....Not good. Cancer, cancer, cancer pops up everywhere on my screen. OK breathe, just a test, nothing set in stone.

Skip to picking up films and report....

Get films, whats in there, the report. Don't waste time, rip it open in the ladies room down the hall. Read report. OH NOT GOOD, NOT GOOD AT ALL. Words pop out, "Highly suspicious for malignancy" "See surgeon ASAP"

Skip to meeting with first surgeon....
HE is freaking out....I am laughing. Laughing in disbelief at the unprofessionalism of this man. He is trying to act normal, but he can't hide it, he knows. Says I have a 50/50 shot it's nothing. Tells me he sees this once a year in a young woman, I ask jokingly, "Have you seen her yet, or it that one ME?" Tries to get me into surgery the next day. I am not ready and I want another opinion.

Skip to second surgeon....
Same deal. HE is freaking.... He knows. My mom and I now know too. Still in disbelief, I schedule surgery.

Days that follow before the surgery. Reading, researching, sweating, crying, DENYING, screaming, mad, angry, scared, why, why, why???? Family is calling. Wish they'd stop! I can't deal with questions I don't have answers to.

Night before surgery. Scared and convinced I won't wake up after the surgery. Decide to let it all go and believe that Jesus will pull me through. Gave my life over to Him that night. Rested well and was completely prepared for anything.

Day of surgery. All went well, except for the biopsy that confirmed breast cancer. My dad told me the news. All he said was, "We have to go further". We sat and cried together. I don't know how I had the strength to get up and out of that bed, but I did.

Days that followed, more crying, more fear, more questions, more reading, DENIAL....
BUT, in the midst of it all was my beacon of hope, my ray of light. The man who would become my husband. How could I have started a new realtionship at this point in my life? How could he even want to meet me. I am chock full of issues. He still wants to meet and we go to a hockey game. I am in pain from the stitches from the biopsy, but I don't tell him. I am instantly in love. How wonderful, except in 2 weeks I have to have my breast cut off and then chemotherapy. How do I make it through this and keep him? The Lord is watching out for me.

Skip to the mastectomy. It's scary, but I make it through. I say goodbye to my ex-boyfriend of 7 yrs from my hospital bed. While he is there, I get a call. It's my new boyfriend. At that moment I see what is happening. CHANGE. Change is scary. I am ok with it though, I am ready to start a new chapter. How symbolic. I lose my breast and my ties to my ex as my new life is starting with that call from Derek. "I am concerned" Derek says, "I want you to be OK". I couldn't agree more.

The next day... Surgeon comes in. NOT GOOD NEWS. Seems I had some positive lymph nodes he wasn't expecting to find. The tumor was only 1.1cm. Small, but an aggressive little bugger. He has egg on his face, as my mom recalls. He admits he wasn't expecting to find any nodes with cancer. This is another ballgame now. Later I find out he should have taken them all. (Skip ahead a year I get more cancer to my nodes).

My stats are:
1.1 cm tumor of infiltrating ductal carcinoma, 2/6 nodes +, ER/PR strongly+, Her2+. I had a right Modified Radical Mastectomy, with Adriamycin, Cytoxan, and Taxol. Followed by, Tamoxifen for a year until I recurred...(see the rest of the story)

Chemo starts. Lots of bad times, but then lots of good ones too. It's almost in slow motion, yet it's happening so fast. I was living a dichotomy of the happiest, yet saddest time of my life. I have a great boyfriend. He spoils me. He loves me. I know we will be married someday. But, I am sick, and bald. Not sure I can ever have kids. It's not a stable time.

Skip to March 12, 1999. Chemo is almost over. Derek buys a house that we picked out Jan 2. We are in the backyard. Pepe, my Jack Russell, almost drowns in the pool. Derek saves him. We sit there with the wet scared dog, admiring the backyard. He gets on a knee and there it is. I am engaged. My bald head is full of excitement, and fear. Can I be a good wife, am I going to make him happy? I have lost my period. I hope I get it back. I want to give him a child.

Skip to the wedding. March 18, 2000. I have hair. I feel pretty. I feel loved. I am HAPPY!!!!

Skip to Aug 2000. NOT GOOD. Doctor finds a lump under my arm. MY NODES! It can't be. It JUST CAN'T. But it is. I am sunk. I am numb. Not again....

Yes, more chemo, radiation. Thinking back, that damned surgeon.
Now I know it's Her2+++. Aggressive as they come. This is the battle of my life. Please don't let it come back though. I can still live a normal life with this. It isn't the worst case. I can still have kids. I won't die young. Not with this kind of recurrence. Since I am Her2+++ I can have Herceptin. This is the miracle I have been waiting for. This drug has saved lives. I am glad I can take it.

Skip to next year. It's 2001, November. I am feeling great.... I am almost done with Herceptin (one year) I want to move on with my life. I want kids. OH NO NO NO NO. My tumor markers are up. THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING AGAIN!
Tests, waiting, fear, helplessness, depression, DENIAL. But there it is. It's in my skull. SKULL? Does that mean brain? No. But it's stage IV now. No cure, no cure, no cure. DAMN. I was so close to getting pregnant. Just a few more months and we were moving on. I have Gamma Knife to my skull. It's a strong, targeted, radiation to the skull. It works. But, it's also in my spine, small, however it has to be dealt with. In retrospect it was there in Aug 2000, just too small to see. They compare it, and yes, it was there from 2000. OK, so now I am incurable. What does this mean? Well for one, more drugs. I am ER+/PR+. (Let's mess with her hormones. She won't need 'em. Shut off the periods, shut it all down.) MENOPAUSE AGAIN...I AM HOT HOT HOT with flashes....BUT, NO HELP. Things get worse. HELP! 8 months have passed and nothing has worked. From January 2002 to Sept 2002, I have had nothing except Herceptin working for me.

I get on Xeloda. Oral chemo, no hair loss. Good I can deal with that, just STOP THIS CANCER!

Xeloda works. Sept 2002- Dec 2003. I am safe for a little over a year. I feel good. I am alive. Grade it on a curve I am happy.

Dec 2003, markers rising. Not liking this. MRI's show growth. I have stopped responding. What's next. Let's try hormonals ONE MORE TIME. Chemo is bad for you, and since I had no pain anywhere no sense in throwing chemo at it. I am lucky I haven't had any pain. The cancer is now in a lot of my bones. All over spine... Have to take something or else things will rapidly progress. I take the hormonals again. Back in menopause for the 3rd time. It fails again. 5 months of failure.

It's June 2004. I can't walk. I have pain in my hip. I am using a cane. I am not liking this at all. For the first time in almost 6 years I feel the cancer. I know it's there, not just by seeing it in a scan, but feeling it in my body. It's affecting my way of life, now IT MUST DIE. I hit it with radiation and chemo. I take Doxil. It's Adriamycin, but kindler and gentler. It won't make my hair fall out or puke my guts up. Thank you!

I have been on this for 4 months now. The first check of the tumor markers show a BEAUTIFUL response, per my doctor. CA15-3 went from 400's to 200's. NICE! LISA LIKE. Those radiation beams kicked the heck out of it as well. I am walking fine. I still have achiness, but I am much, much better. I don't even take pain pills. Oh how I hate those!
I am on Aredia for the bones, to strengthen them because the cancer does it's damage. Aredia fills in eaten away bones. Nice, huh! I also, take the Herceptin and I am convinced I am still alive because of that. My heart has taken some abuse from this cardiotoxic cocktail. I trust the Lord and my doctors to watch me closely. I am in good hands!

100 things about me....

1. I've never been arrested, but I think it would be a fun experience...LOL!
2. I would have loved to have been an FBI agent
3. When I was young I wanted to be a dancer
4. My favorite place to visit is Key West
5. And Italy
6. And San Francisco
7. I met my husband online
8. I was diagnosed with breast cancer a week before we met face to face
9. He even shaved my head for me when I went bald!
10. I love to eat....all kinds of food, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, Greek, Russian.....etc etc
11. I love CSI and everything having to do with crime scene investigations on TV
12. My brother was born with a rare disease called Bardett Biedl Syndrome
13. My best friend is from Russia and I have known her for 20 years
14. I went to Hofstra University in LI, NY
15. My husband was born in Berlin, Germany
16. I have 3 dogs, 2 Jack Russells (Pepe and Peanut) and 1 Min Pin (Mee Pee)
17. I love trivia and am pretty competitive at it!
18. My husband owns a company called Cima Consulting Group in Miami, where I work now
19. I dont like spiders, in fact if I see one in my bedroom I don't sleep there that night
20. My favorite food is...hmmm....anything creamy like pudding or cheescake
21. I love to collect anything with hearts on it
22. My dad was a NYC policeman
23. I don't like flying, but I do it reluctantly to see new places
24. I was pre-med in college
25. I have lost some close dear friends to breast cancer, all my age
26. I always wanted to be a blonde
27. I hate camping and "roughing it"
28. I love the color pink
29. I had 5 best girlfriends growing up and a lot of guy friends
30. I miss college
31. I miss my right boob
32. I need to lose 25 lbs like NOW but....
33. I am glad I am not sickly skinny
34. I have breast cancer metastases to many of my bones
35. I dated a guy for 7 years and am so, so, so glad we didn't get married
36. because I would have missed out on my husband
37. My favorite song for a long time was "Daniel" byt Elton John
38. Now I tend to like fighting songs like "Eye of the Tiger" (hence my blog name!)
39. I hate my knees
40. I love my eyes (thanks DAD)
41. In college I was involved in starting a new sorority
42. I once tried to surf, I couldn't even get out to where the waves were
43. I tried to ski once. Made if down the hill. Walked back up. Never tried it again
44. I never liked gym class
45. Favorite music: David Gray, Live, Coldplay, Aerosmith, Fuel
46. I was always good in school except for Junior year HS
47. My favorite subject was Biology
48. I have 2 Bachelor's Degrees
49. One in Biology, and the other in Nursing
50. I can't win an argument with my husband as hard as I sometimes try
51. I wish I had a younger brother
52. I wish I had children
53. I wish I had a house in Key West
54. I wish my parents could get along for more than a week
55. I was never good at sports (see #42, 43, 44)
56. My dad always told me to "be a lady"
57. I guess I took that literally and never tried sports!
58. I have vivid, crazy dreams, so real they scare me
59. My mom has the same crazy dreams too
60. My family is a little whacky
61. Whose isn't
62. I love learning about other cultures and realize the American way, while it is great, is not the only way
63. I recently found out I am a Liberal
64. I have never voted
65. I knew 4 people that died in the World Trade Center on 9/11
66. I don't agree with the war in Iraq
67. I am a Christian
68. I love that I am a Christian
69. I am sensitive yet tough
70. If I could do it all over again I'd make sure to get a mammogram at 19 yrs old
71. I was in nursing school when I was diagnosed with breast cancer
72. I was diagnosed in 1998 at 27 yrs old
73. I am an Aries
74. but I don't believe in astrology
75. I love spring and I am so glad my birthday is in April
76. I get excited during New Years countdowns, thunderstorms, and rollercoaster rides
77. I love my dogs like they are my kids
78. I have an outside cat too
79. She is blonde with blue eyes and I call her "Marylin"
80. My house is too big
81. Which I am surprised I am complaining about since I never lived in a house growing up
82. I have moved 20 times in my life and most of those apartments were in basements
83. I was pretty poor growing up, but managed to go to an expensive school and live there for 4 yrs
84. Having divorced parents and a scholarship helped
85. I have wonderful memories from my teen years
86. I wish I could write a book, about anything
87. I want a child anyway I can have one.... naturally, surrogate, adoption
88. My husband is very patient, understanding, and puts up with a lot!
89. I love to dress up
90. My favorite outfit is my wedding dress
91. I used to wash hair at a salon in High School for extra money
92. My first job was at a deli and I made $3.25 an hour
93. When I was a kid I never thought I'd make it to old age
94. I miss my friends from NY
95. I want world peace
96. I want a clean environment
97. I despise people who mistreat animals
98. I cry at the song "Wonder" by Natalie Merchant
99. It makes me think of my brother
100. I am finished with 100 things about me.....WOW

My guy! 

Life is GREAT! 

Me, my mom, and brother Bart 

My best friend Alina (middle) and Princess Brandy 

Me and my friend Jamie, a fellow breast cancer survivor. 

Me and my baby! 

Me in San Francisco...one of my favorite places! 

Me and my dad...we don't look alike now do we? 

ME! 

BANDWAGON JUMPER

I have been reading so many blogs I decided to jump on board. Just wanted to have a little place on the net just about me! Keep reading it will get interesting around here ;-)