Forefathers

As I sit here and write this, our wonderful first grandchild, Joshua, is boarding a bus to travel to summer camp. I am confident that he will have a fantastic time. He already knows a few boys who are attending, and he is an outgoing and fun kid who will certainly keep the other boys laughing and make lots of new friends.

But my jubilation for him this morning is almost assuredly not quite what his parents are feeling. I remember all too well the summer of 1988, when both Simmie and Dina, at 11 and 9 years of age, went to camp for the first time, suddenly leaving us childless for four weeks. We were living in Sharon and the camp was in New Hampshire just a few hours away, so we drove them up to camp. Barry and I sat in the car all the way back home without uttering a word. What could we have been thinking sending our two babies away? But soon we settled back in, and to be honest, by the time the month was over we were enjoying ourselves and even joked about signing them up for the second month.

Of course that experience paled next to what was to come a few years later in 1995 when Simmie left to spend the year after graduating from high school in Israel. In the weeks before her departure, Dina spent a lot of time grousing about all the attention being showered on her sister. Despite her threats to stay home, she did join us to see Simmie off at the airport. I have two very strong memories from that morning. I remember watching Simmie walk away, literally with a spring in her step, and feeling so happy that our little premie had reached this point and was ready to fly (literally and figuratively). But this feeling was quickly shadowed by a sobbing and inconsolable younger sister. Barry and I had to escort the poor girl out of the terminal, and I cannot help but wonder if nowadays someone would have summoned authorities.

Now here is Dina, seeing her own child taking those first steps to what we hope will be a wonderful and independent life. She may not realize this but I certainly do know how she is feeling. I wish I could put the video on fast forward for just a moment so she could see how well it all turns out, and how as a grandmother it is nothing but an incredibly happy occasion to see Joshua reaching this milestone.

  

This morning I had to listen to an old Dan Fogelberg song

And the sons become the fathers,

And the daughters will be wives,

As the torch is passed from hand to hand

And we struggle through our lives.

Though the generations wander

The lineage survives,

And all of us from dust to dust,

We all become forefathers by and by.

Have a great summer, big boy!

Love,

Rebecca (aka Nana)

One not so good and one terrific movie

About a month ago I wrote about a newly released movie, “The Fault in Our Stars.” Our interest in this movie was primarily piqued by the fact that a key aspect of the storyline involves a young woman who is on full-time supplemental oxygen. The movie received mixed reviews, and we were not expecting it to be particularly good. So we were neither surprised nor disappointed to find that it was a sappy tear-jerker, and not a very realistic portrayal of life on oxygen. We could have used that two hours in a much more productive way. However, teen aged girls probably love this movie.

But redemption on the big screen came about this afternoon in the form of a film called “Chef.” The film was written and directed by and stars a fellow with whom we were not familiar, Jon Favreau, along with a stellar cast of more familiar names including Scarlett Johansson, Dustin Hoffman, and Sophia Vergara (Gloria on “Modern Family”). It is the story of an innovative chef whose creativity is stifled by the owner of the restaurant in which he works. He posts comments on the web, not realizing that they could and would be seen by thousands of followers of the critic who panned his cooking. The loss of his job forces him to go back to more modest ambitions, but this is, after all, a feel-good movie, and it all works out in the end. It is a terrifically fun ride along the way with such vivid kitchen scenes that you can almost smell the aromas. There is nothing deep here but it is great fun and we highly recommend it.

This whole issue of items “going viral” on the internet has been on my mind a good deal, as I wrote a few days ago about Baby K’Tan. The only consolation here is that these things tend to fade as the next new nonsense takes over. We can only hope that this wonderful company will survive this rather severe bump in the road.

The weather was beautiful again this weekend, and we did get over to the Botanical Garden this morning before going to the movies this afternoon. Barry has a busy week ahead but we are looking forward to Thursday, when we will drive up to the Berkshires to see James Taylor at Tanglewood. Those of you who have followed me since the beginning of the blog may remember that in the summer of 2012 we had bought tickets for all three nights James was performing at Tanglewood, but I was still undergoing chemotherapy and did not feel up to making the trip. Fortunately we were able to send proxies: one night Dina and Aaron, one night Riverdale friends who have a summer house in the Berkshires, and one night friends from Sharon. We are happy to finally be seeing James again at Tanglewood.

Next weekend we will spend Sabbath and Sunday in Sharon, and bring Eliana back to New York with us, the first of four such trips we will make over the next two months. We have all sorts of fun activities lined up for each of the children, and are really looking forward to this.

Have a nice week!

Love,

Rebecca

A red letter date

It was only around dinner time that today’s date registered. For some mysterious reason, June 26 has been a notable date for me in years ending with 9.

In 1969, when I was 17, my family moved from our hometown of St. Louis, Missouri to West Hartford, Connecticut. It was the summer before my senior year of high school, and leaving a lifetime’s worth of friends and places was difficult for me. The moving van came on the 26^th of June.

In 1979, Simmie was two years old and I was pregnant with Dina. Complications in the pregnancy had kept me in bed for many months, but on the 26^th of June I was hospitalized, where I stayed until a week after Dina’s birth on July 17^th.

In 1989 we were living in Sharon. I had completed my PhD in statistics in 1986, and had stayed close with my graduate advisor, who is just a tad older than I am. On June 26^th he had surgery to remove what turned out to be a malignant tumor in his brain. Fortunately, he has remained in remission for these 25 years.

In 1999, June 26^th was the last Sabbath before we moved into the house in Riverdale in which we still live. We still love this house, and we are even finally doing some of the long-neglected maintenance projects it has needed. I remember in 1999 thinking that perhaps my luck on this date had finally turned around.

I cannot remember anything significant on June 26^th of 2009. I guess my association with the date ended with the change of the century. But on this date in 2012 I was discharged from Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center after cycle 6 of chemotherapy. And I am more than happy to uneventfully mark the passing of another year on this date.

An item from the first round of Jeopardy broadcast this evening:

Category	They Own It
$1000 answer	Xanax and Lipitor
Question	What is Pfizer?

Have a nice evening!

Love,

Rebecca

19,947 but who's counting?

As I sit down to write this post, Blogger tells me I have had 19,947 page views, just 53 short of 20,000. In the blogosphere that is a paltry number. But I am more interested in quality than quantity, and the warmth and support in those nearly 20,000 visits to this blog are far more valuable than any number with more zeroes in it could possibly be.

It has been an incredibly busy few days! First, the weather was beyond spectacular: warm but not hot, with low humidity and abundant sunshine. Anyone who planned an outdoor gathering this weekend was quite fortunate indeed. We arrived in Sharon early Friday afternoon and picked up Maya, who was coming to spend some time with us while the rest of her family was otherwise engaged. We then joined Dina and family for lunch outside on their newly completed deck, a terrific new addition to their house that blends in so well that it is difficult to remember what the back looked like when it was not there. Here is a picture of Ella and Maya with a friend enjoying a snack on the new deck.

After playing with the children for a while, we headed over to a local camera store where we had in early May left a box containing our old Super 8 videotapes to be transferred to DVD. Barry and I were only able to watch a couple of minutes of the DVD before Sabbath but were surprised with the results. The images are somewhat grainy but that is to be expected. The sound is surprisingly good, although the speed seems somewhat excessive so that my talking, never slow to begin with, sounds very fast and the pitch a bit high. Unfortunately, most of the videotapes were not labelled, so the 3-minute segments are in no particular order. My next project is to go through and put them in order – all 27 of them – so that Aaron can burn us a new DVD.

I do not know why this never occurred to me before, either when I found the box of videos or when we took them to be transferred, but here is a quiz:

Identify the source of this line

They took twenty seven eight-by-ten color glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. 

Ella joined Barry and me for Sabbath lunch. While gathering the whole family is nice, we especially enjoy spending time with the children one at a time. We made a lunch we were sure she would enjoy. She is a bit of a particular eater but she does have a list of foods she will pretty much always eat: macaroni and cheese, cheese lasagna, blintz soufflé, and one that does not quite fit with the others, gefilte fish. We had the last two on that list, and I had made a blueberry pie for dessert. We built the newest Lego Friends kit we had given her for her birthday, played a few other games, and it was 5 pm before we knew it. We headed back over to Ella’s house and Barry played ball with Joshua for a while before we returned to our apartment for some much-needed rest.

Sunday was another beautiful day. In the morning, Barry and I took Joshua and Ella to the Roger Williams Park Zoo in Providence, our first of what I am sure will be many visits this summer. We came back to Sharon around 2 as Simmie was leaving with Eliana to attend an open house at the camp she is attending this summer, and we spent more time with Maya. We suggested going out for either ice cream or frozen yogurt, and, in typical Maya fashion, she gave us a long explanation of all the times she had been at the frozen yogurt shop and not found the flavors to her liking, so we headed to Crescent Ridge Dairy, where we sat outside and chatted while eating our ice cream. I had the camera in my purse but of course forgot to use it.

The day ended when we all gathered for a barbeque at Simmie and Ronen’s house to celebrate Barry’s recent birthday. We drove back to New York on Monday morning, and I am still trying to play catch-up.

Yesterday, New York City Mayor De Blasio signed 11 bills into law, including Intro 171-A — “Cooper’s Law” — which will allow the New York City Taxi and Limousine Commission to act against hack licenses of cab drivers who injure and kill pedestrians while breaking traffic laws, and Intro 238-A, which makes it a misdemeanor for drivers to strike pedestrians or cyclists who have the right of way. It is at least a start.

Have a great week!

Love,

Rebecca

The best and the worst of the internet

I was just stunned, perhaps even horrified is a fair word, to learn about a vicious campaign being waged on Twitter against Baby K’tan, our friend’s company that designs and markets infant carriers. The carriers come in various different fabrics and styles, and both the web site and the various boxes in which the carriers are packaged are full of sweet pictures of people “wearing” babies. Apparently someone saw two boxes of Baby K’tan carriers on the shelf of a local store: one with a picture of a white couple with the woman wearing a baby, the other with a picture of a black woman wearing a baby. Looking at these two boxes that just happened to be on the shelf in that particular store at that particular moment, knowing nothing about the company, and clearly not even bothering to take a look at their web site, the person took to Twitter and accused the company of racism. Sadly, this post has “gone viral.” Michal is working with lawyers and consultants to determine the appropriate response to such unjustified and untrue claims.

I am reminded of a traditional Jewish tale.

Once there was a child who loved to tell stories about his friends. Sometimes the stories were true, and sometimes the stories were not quite true. The neighborhood children did not like their gossiping friend. One day they decided to ask the Rabbi's advice. 

The Rabbi heard their complaints, and called the child to his house. 

"Why do you make up stories about your friends?" the Rabbi asked. 

"It's only talk," replied the child. "I can always take it back." 

"Perhaps you are right," said the Rabbi, and he began to talk of other things. As the child was ready to leave, the Rabbi asked, "I wonder if you would do something for me." 

"Of course," said the child 

The Rabbi took a pillow from the couch and handed it to the child. "Take this pillow to the town square. When you get there, cut it open, and shake out the feathers. Then come back." 

The child was puzzled, but agreed to do what the Rabbi said. He carried the pillow to the town square and cut it open. The breeze scattered the feathers across the sky. 

The child returned to the Rabbi's house and told him what he had done. 

The Rabbi seemed pleased. He handed the boy a basket and said, "Now please go back to the square, and gather the feathers up again." 

The child gasped, "But that's impossible." 

"You are right," said the Rabbi. "So is it not possible to take back all the untrue things you said about others. Be careful with the words you spread. Once spoken and sent on their way, they cannot be gathered again." 

If you or any of your friends has a Baby K’tan carrier, please know that this accusation is not only vicious but just plain wrong! It is not going to be easy to collect all those nasty feathers.

Love,

Rebecca

Sounding like a silly old lady

A few days ago I wrote about seeing a report on CBS Sunday Morning that featured Dr. Martin Goldstein. I mentioned that we had taped the show on our “VCR.” Some of you who are reading my words a bit too carefully might have chuckled at the idea that we are still using a VCR. Well, rest easy. We have not recorded anything on a VCR for years – we have joined the 21^st century and record programs on our DVR!

Having said that, I hear that long playing record albums are making a comeback!

Have a great weekend,

Love,

Rebecca

Sweet Melissa

By Thursdays, The New York Times crossword puzzle becomes somewhat tricky. Most of the time I am eventually able to figure it out, but I usually “cheat” some amount with the help of Google.

Today, the clue for 42-across (7 spaces) was:

What notorious 1999 computer virus was named after an exotic dancer?

I was able to fill in enough of the surrounding squares to realize it was

MELISSA

Melissa was a computer malware program known as a worm, a standalone malware computer program that replicates itself in order to spread to other computers. Often, worms use computer networks to spread themselves, relying on security failures on the target computer to access it.

Do you see how the black squares form a question mark? The theme is found in 17-across:

Classic 1940s-'50s quiz show

Namely,

Twenty Questions

Twenty of the clues are questions of the sort one might find on a television quiz show.

This was clever and provided a good excuse to share some Allman Brothers music: a perfect combination!

  

If I do not post again before the weekend, have a good one!

Love,

Rebecca

Sometimes it’s good to watch a little network television

These days, if you have some time to relax and want to watch a little television, odds are that you will find, to quote the old Bruce Springsteen song, that there are more than “fifty-seven channels and nothing on.” 

So Barry has set up our DVR to record a number of programs so that we have things to watch when we have time. One of those programs is “CBS Sunday Morning.” A little earlier this evening we took a break and watched some of it.

Amid a number of interesting pieces was one called “B. Smith’s Alzheimer’s Battle.” We were not familiar with this quite accomplished woman who, with the support of her husband and undoubtedly a network of friends and family, is doing her best to keep her life going as well as she can for as long as she can. But when the piece really piqued our interest is when they introduced her neuropsychologist at Mount Sinai, Dr. Martin Goldstein, a name that should be familiar to my regular readers. He is the doctor who ordered my first MRI and broke the news to us late that horrible night in his small office, then put me in a wheelchair himself and pushed me to the inpatient neurology floor for admission. He helped us to reach a decision to pursue primary treatment for the CNS lymphoma at MSKCC, and he is the doctor who later referred me to Heidi and has continued to follow me during recovery. He is also the doctor with whom I need to make an appointment for follow-up, although I suspect that will be increasingly difficult to do after having seen this nationally televised report.

Barry and I will be forever grateful for all Dr. Goldstein has done for us. I only hope that my future follow-up visits will continued to be filled with good news.

Love,

Rebecca

Continuing on the theme of summer music

Last summer at this time I attached and quoted from the James Taylor song, “That’s Why I’m Here.” But for those of you who have forgotten, or those who never saw that post, I was reminded of this a few minutes ago when Dina sent along this very sweet picture taken today at Lake Massapoag in Sharon, just a mile or so from their house. 

This summer the line “Got your baby, got your blanket, got your bucket of beer” takes on new meaning!

I received a lovely message from our friend, jazz pianist Leslie Pintchik of the eponymous trio, that she will be performing in Cambridge, MA later this summer. Unfortunately we will likely have to be in New York on Wednesday August 27^th. But I am passing this along for readers in the Boston area who might be able to make it:

Leslie Pintchik Trio

Scullers Jazz Club at the Doubletree Suites by Hilton Hotel Boston

400 Soldiers Field Road

Boston, MA 02134

Tel: 617-562-4111

Email: Info@ScullersJazz.com

Website: www.ScullersJazz.com

Here’s a video of the trio. If you do go, please go up to her during a break and tell her I sent you!

Love,

Rebecca

Back to the garden

It was simply a glorious weekend! After a week of rain, the sun finally emerged on Saturday morning and continues as I write this on Monday afternoon. We had arranged a fellow to do some various jobs around the house including washing the windows, so it was no surprise when he arrived this morning ready to start with those.

Barry had to be at Mount Sinai on Friday so we spent another Sabbath in Riverdale. Sunday evening was the annual synagogue dinner, but we had the day free, so we headed back to the New York Botanical Garden where they had a fantastic Father’s Day celebration. My thoughts about “heading back to the garden” brought to mind the Crosby Stills and Nash song, but in fact “Woodstock” (the song) was written by Joni Mitchell, who performed and recorded it as well.  

Although the local news reports of the event emphasized the food, which included many vendors with large barbeque grills, there was actually so much more going on, including live music. We brought along a picnic and sat out on the grass and listened to the music, a sort of combination of folk and country.

Roosevelt Dime

To listen to the music of Roosevelt Dime is to take a journey through American roots music. Inspired by Appalachian string bands, Memphis soul, New Orleans dixieland, and the musical melting pot of Brooklyn which they call home, the band has forged an original sound all their own. After years of thrilling audiences at festivals and venues across the country, the band has fully captured the energy and musicianship of their live performances on their new albumFull Head of Steam. The band's seamless mixture of musical genres has been described as "a perpetual crowd-pleaser" by The New York Times.

Cricket Tell the Weather

Based in the New York-Connecticut area, Cricket Tell the Weather is an indie string band featuring bluegrass-inspired original music. Winners of the 2013 FreshGrass Award, Cricket is rooted in the bluegrass tradition, and expands to include rock, pop, and chamber ensemble elements. Award-winning songwriters Andrea Asprelli (fiddle) and Jason Borisoff (guitar) received a blue ribbon in 2011 at the Podunk Bluegrass Festival Songwriting Competition for their co-written song "Remington". They are joined by NYC native Doug Goldstein on the banjo and Jeff Picker on bass from Portland, OR. The band has twice been awarded the Neighborhood Arts & Heritage Grant from the City of Bridgeport, and is actively involved in providing bluegrass workshops to to students of all ages under their "American Roots Revival" workshop series.

Miss Tess and the Talk Backs

Miss Tess & The Talkbacks make grooving modern music with a vintage feel that nods to the traditions of jazz, swing, rockabilly, and more while maintaining a unique and personal sound. The bands most recent release, The Love I Have For You, is their second on rootsy label Signature Sounds and pays homage to some of Tess's favorite singers and songwriters including Willie Nelson, Bonnie Raitt, Neil Young, Ted Hawkins, Randy Newman, and Hank Williams through a set of rousing covers.

With the perfect weather and lovely surroundings, we had a hard time tearing ourselves away. But we had to leave just before the music ended to have time to get home and shower and dress to head over to the annual dinner at our synagogue. We have not gone to this event for a number of years; neither of us is crazy about these dinners. But this year we had two good reasons to go: we are friends with the main couple who was honored, and we have a number of friends who sing with the choir, which was performing. As an added bonus, it was a second chance to wear the outfit I bought and wore to a wedding in Sharon last summer. At this rate of use (≤ 1 per year) I will probably have this outfit for the rest of my life! These annual events used to be sit-down dinners, but a few years ago they decided to do the entire dinner as a buffet. There is always a large selection of things to eat at stations throughout the hall. But usually at these events there are fewer seats than there are guests, and neither of us enjoys eating while standing, let alone that I tire too quickly and that I am carrying an oxygen cylinder. So we arrived fashionably late. The program of speeches and musical performances was held in the main sanctuary of the synagogue. Some annual dinners are very serious, but what is likeable about this one is that it is not: the various honorees all had light-hearted and funny things to say. As celebratory as the dinner was, time was taken to turn our thoughts and prayers to the three young Israelis who were kidnapped last Thursday night and remain missing.

I close with hopes for their speedy and safe return.

Love,

Rebecca

How far are we willing to go?

The guest on “The Colbert Report” on Wednesday night was a software engineer named Rob Rhinehart, creator of Soylent, a new food substitute intended to supply all of our daily nutritional needs while avoiding many of the downsides of our usual diet. To be honest and to put it mildly, it looked pretty disgusting, even after Stephen added the Hershey’s Syrup! And it raises what in my mind is a deep and fundamental question: how much are we willing to deprive ourselves in exchange for the possibility of an increased lifespan? As Carrie Bradshaw of “Sex and the City” would put it, “will we really live longer, or will it just feel that way?”

Rob Rhinehart - Rob Rhinehart - The Colbert Report - Video Clip | Comedy Central

I have thought about this quite a bit lately, not because of the illness that brought me to blogging, but because of my (seemingly completely independent) pulmonary condition. Recently, my pulmonologist hired a nurse practitioner to assist with her practice. The upside of this from the patient perspective is that it helps to fill in the gaps for a physician who is carrying an enormous load, enabling more attention to be given to patients. But this attention may also be the downside of such additional personnel. After many relatively quiet years of routine visits to my pulmonologist, and without experiencing any meaningful clinical change in my condition, I am finding myself being advised to undergo many additional tests with discussions of all sorts of additional treatments. The current discussion is the possible addition of something called continuous positive airway pressure, or CPAP. I am not sure I can tolerate having that mask over my mouth and nose, since I find anything covering my face extremely stressful. CPAP would require yet another piece of equipment, let alone a noisy one, that has to sit near the bedside. That may sound like a minor inconvenience, but for someone trying to continue with a moderately active life in two locations, there is nothing minor about it at all. I cannot help but wonder whether there is a limit to which I would go to possibly – remember, there are no guarantees – extend my life by some small amount.

Perhaps I am a bit too prone to morbid thinking, but I, as undoubtedly most cancer patients in remission, think about what happens if the cancer returns. I am not sure I could get through this again either physically or emotionally. More importantly, I am not sure I want to put my husband and daughters through this again. I know they will all pooh-pooh this, but there may be a point beyond which I would no longer feel that the meager ends justify the heroic means.

How did I get to this after watching a funny bit about nutritional supplements? Does it have anything to do with the fact that it is Friday the 13^th?

Have a nice weekend!

Love,

Rebecca

Always a thrilling experience

The new patio chairs arrived as scheduled yesterday, and they are a fairly good match for our table. I spent over two hours undoing the packaging and bundling it up for recycling, including a long rest in the middle; it is frustrating to still tire so easily.  All the while, I was thinking that this is the downside to on-line shopping. Large items purchased in local stores usually include delivery and set-up, and often they will cart away the old items you have replaced. But when you deal with on-line orders you are pretty much on your own. The time you would have spent schlepping around to stores is spent taking care of the things that must be done at home when the new merchandise arrives. There is, as they say, no such thing as a free lunch.

Last evening I went into the City and met Barry at Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts. We were a bit early and fortunately the rain had let up so we were able to join a crowd on the plaza where a jazz trio was performing. Lincoln Center is truly one of New York City’s gems. With Avery Fisher Hall, the Metropolitan Opera, and the Julliard School of Music forming a large plaza with a beautiful fountain, it takes my breath away (well, not literally) every time I am there. I am reminded of that old joke my father used to tell me: “How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice!” I never practiced enough to perform at Carnegie Hall or Lincoln Center, but I do enjoy sitting among those audiences.

Pianist Yefim Bronfman and he New York Philharmonic Orchestra performed Beethoven’s 1^st and 4^th piano concertos. The concert hall was full and the audience quite enthusiastic. I have attached a recording of the entire set of Beethoven piano concertos; the 4^th, which is our favorite, begins at 1:41:15 in the attached recording. The orchestra also performed the world premiere of a short piece by a young composer, Anthony Cheung, which had been commissioned by the New York Philharmonic. It was no simple matter for the orchestra to play this piece between the two Beethoven concertos: the piano had to be removed and the orchestra’s seating rearranged and then returned to the original position for the 4^th concerto. Like most contemporary classical music, this one left us scratching our heads.

Have a nice day despite the rain!

  

Love,

Rebecca

Still not quite myself

My pulmonary disease is believed by some to be a precursor to something called carcinoids, which are slow-growing neuroendocrine-type tumors (NETs) originating in the cells of the neuroendocrine system. Some years ago my pulmonologist, along with an expert in NETs, decided to start me on a medication that is ordinarily used to control symptoms in patients with carcinoids, Sandostatin (generic name octreotide). I wrote about this in June of 2013: 

Sandostatin is a bit tricky to mix, and must be delivered as an intramuscular injection, which taxes the talents of most of us mere mortals who lack medical training.

Sandostatin is not something you can just pick up at your local pharmacy. I have this set up through CVS Caremark, their specialty pharmacy. So every three months I arrange for the next shipment. The drug must be kept chilled, so it is sent for overnight delivery in a little Styrofoam^® (just cannot get away from that Styrofoam^®) ice chest. I arrange the date for delivery when I call to order the refill so I know when it is coming, and I usually call Caremark on the morning of delivery to obtain the UPS tracking number so I can keep an eye on it.

I had arranged a few weeks ago to have my Sandostatin delivered today because I am due for the injection later this week. But to be honest, I completely forgot, even though it is in fact on my calendar.

Meanwhile, Barry had placed an order on-line for some chairs for our patio. We have a nice patio dinette set we bought years ago. The table looks pretty good but the chairs are in dire need of replacement; we have already disposed of two of them. He found a good substitute on Amazon and they are to be delivered tomorrow.

We wanted to delay that delivery date because we are going to a concert tomorrow evening and I did not want to risk a late delivery which would lead to four large boxes sitting outside our house. I went on the UPS website and found I needed to set up an account on the site in order to do that. So I dutifully set up an account, noted that it had one item, admittedly did not read it carefully, and, assuming it was the chairs, I changed the scheduled delivery to Friday.

I am not sure anymore what exactly made me realize I had gotten this dreadfully wrong, but at some point mid-morning I found out that what I had actually delayed was not the chairs but the Sandostatin. This could not be! For one thing, my injection is scheduled for Thursday, and for another, there is no way that little chest and blue ice will keep it cold for that many days. The word “panic” would be a gross understatement. “Hysteria” or perhaps “total meltdown” comes closer.

Barry was in his office at Mt. Sinai, planning to be in and out all day for various meetings. So I had to tackle this myself. To make a very long story short, after literally hours of stress and a lot of pleading during many phone calls, some of which were made on the verge of tears, I managed to circumvent the instructions to deliver on Friday. In fact, when this all happened, the Sandostatin was already in the truck* at the local distribution center in the Bronx, about 20-30 minutes from here, scheduled to be delivered today. Had I not called, it would have been returned to the center for Friday delivery. The package was delivered at about 6 pm; never have I been so thrilled to see that truck!

Two years ago, I could barely remember anything for more than a few seconds. Little by little I have improved, and things like cooking require fewer stops to read the same thing over and over again. Now I think the trouble is that, in my heart, I am the pre-brain-tumor Rebecca, but in reality, I am not and likely never will be. I have to keep reminding myself so I can avoid causing anyone, including myself, any more stress than life already has.

Love,

Rebecca

*I had to chuckle as I wrote this. I originally had written “on the truck,” and then I remembered the late George Carlin routine about airlines, so I went to YouTube and I found this. Warning: it is George Carlin, so the language is a bit raunchy, but it is also hilarious.

Shop until you drop

Barry likes to keep a supply of Styrofoam^® cups with lids to bring his tea with him in the car. He could and probably should, of course, use a travel mug, but that would require him to remember to bring that mug into the house and wash it, which he would almost assuredly never remember to do. His supply of the disposable cups was dwindling, so he went to Amazon to order some more. The cups and the lids were two separate items on Amazon. The lids arrived first. Oh, my, did they arrive – 1000 of them!

If Barry uses one per day, this will be a 2.7 year supply. But he does not drink that much tea on the run. He probably uses these cups twice a week, tops, or about 100 per year. So he now has a 10 year supply of lids for the Styrofoam^® cups.

A few hours later, another knock on the door, and 500 cups were delivered. Based on similar calculations, that’s a 5 year supply of Styrofoam^® cups.

It is just so easy to point and click that sometimes we forget to read. I did something not dissimilar recently and ended up with 1,875 Q-tips^®! Yes, I typed and you read that correctly, nearly two thousand Q-tips. I should probably add these to my will.

I have written previously (probably more than once) that, given my limited mobility and inability to drive, I have benefited tremendously by living in the age of Amazon. At the same time, on-line shopping is just so easy. And like many things that come too easily, it can be dangerous if we are not careful.

Love,

Rebecca