The Empty Chair

For over a week, I have dreaded this day....my first visit to the Cancer Center since you left us, my dear friend.

I knew it would be hard, but I guess I had no idea how difficult it would actually be.

From the moment the elevator doors shut, at our usual, special entrance, I wanted to scream.  I felt trapped, I just wanted out!  Tears started to roll down my face uncontrollably and every fiber in my body told me to halt that moving tin box.  But, I knew deep in my heart, I had to keep going.  I made a promise to you Charmine and I don’t intend to break it....I will keep fighting.

As I tried to compose myself, the doors slid open.  Thankfully, no one was waiting to get on.  I walked by the treatment area, glancing in over the receptionist, and that’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks....Your Chair was empty.  You know the one;  the place you were sitting one year ago, when a terrified girl came in for her first chemo appointment.  There were so many open chairs that day and my nature is to gravitate towards the quiet, empty places.  But that day, I knew I needed to sit next to you.  As I walked towards the open chair next to you, my friend Sarah at my side, you smiled.  So, there we were, sitting in the two chairs, under the east window, surrounded by plants...you on one side, Sarah on the other.  The nurses started an IV (I didn’t even have my port yet), explained the procedure and started the infusion...and you, held my hand the entire time.  I knew right then, I would never be alone in this fight.

Every Wednesday after that, we sat together.  We weren’t always in the same seats, but we were always together.  Remember when we sat in the cubby area, because you had so many visitors that day, and I made the animal cookies dance for Sue and Teresa while they prepared our chemo?  Or, when we thought the satellite photograph of the lake was a picture of a tumor...we couldn’t stop laughing at how wrong it was to have photos of tumors in a chemo treatment area.  Although we were dealing with a fight for our lives, we were able to laugh and share.

And share we did!  It’s kind of funny (or at least I know you would think it’s funny), how many stories we shared during those weeks, probably more than we have ever shared with other people in our lives, but neither of us remembered what we had talked about by the next week....CHEMO BRAIN!!!  I wonder how many times we shared the same story over and over.

Today, the center was so busy, but as I glanced at your chair, it was empty.  The tears poured down even harder.  Everything seemed wrong, out of place.  Colors seemed less vivid and the normal laughter heard throughout the treatment area seemed muted...I couldn’t believe how deep the hole in my heart had become.

I made it through my appointment, with the help of some of our favorite nurses, who came in the room to hug me and share their love for you.  As I was trying to sneak out, my face swollen and red from crying, I made eye contact with another of our nurses.  She came to see what was wrong.  When I told her you had passed, she held me in her arms and told me to let it all out.  As I stood sobbing in her arms, I looked over her shoulder and again saw your chair.......

Since my arrival at the center, the sun had peaked through the clouds and shown down directly on your chair, illuminating it with beautiful rays of light.  I knew then that you were still with me and you always would be.  I also knew that you would be there for others, in that special, selfless way that is Charmine....I knew the next person who came in for treatment, scared and alone, would feel you there.  They would know that they weren’t alone...they would gain strength from your presence...as we all have.

The chair was still empty, but now it had wings.

Fly free my friend.

I will miss you.

Cancer Is A Thief

Cancer is a thief, taking body parts, dignity and lives.  But for those of us fighting the disease, cancer steals so much more...things most people wouldn't even fathom could be a problem!  For me, it was my "daydreams".  I can already 

hear some of you..."Really, you lost your breasts, your hair and were told your chances were not good, more times than you can remember....but you're sad about your daydreams?”.

Well, let me tell you this, my daydreams were the kind of stuff movies were made of.  “Pretty in Pink” and Some Kind of Wonderful” couldn't even compare.

When I was younger, my daydreams mostly involved becoming a Solid Gold dancer, but not just any Solid Gold dancer, The Best Solid Gold Dancer EVER.  The kind of dancer that Shaun Cassidy or Andy Gibb wouldn't be able to keep their eyes off of while they performed in the shadow of my 12 inch heels!  Other daydreams found me living in the remote wilderness, my trusty grizzly at my side, cooking flapjacks with my crazy neighbor.  I was sure I could be the modern day, female Grizzly Adams...and let's face it, twenty years later, minus the drugs and numerous arrests, I kinda was!  Replace that "ferocious" bear with a trusty moose and that was me!  Moosey Monica of the North.  Traveling the wilds of northern Montana, studying wolves and coyotes, with my trusty moose, that always hung out near the cabin, (we even named a homemade beer after him) by my side.

Once I got into high school, the daydreams shifted a bit.  While I was still going to be a dancer (never-mind that I couldn't even make it onto my high-school's dance squad), I would also become an actress, and one of those beautiful supermodels of the late 80's and early 90's.  My phone never stopped ringing!  I mean, who didn't want to hang out with me....Rick Springfield, Kiefer Sutherland, Roger Taylor or Val Kilmer.  My best friend, Simon Le Bon and I would sit and discuss literature, lyrics and travel.  I would have secret rendezvous with George Michael (yes, I know, I know, but I didn't know back in 1987...did any of us?); winter escapes that would rival anything seen in the "Last Christmas" video.  And then, out of nowhere, Roger Taylor would show up.  A heated fight would ensue, both men just having to have me, their muse, their soul mate...the love of their lives!!  Don't believe me, ask my high school friend Michelle..always my cohort and confidant when I made up these stories.

There seemed a brief time in the early 1990's when I thought all the dreams would come true.  After graduating high school, I headed back to the place of my birth, sunny Los Angeles, to pursue my dream of becoming a world famous and very 

respected actress.  I spent some time at UCLA, but we just didn't get along so well.  Then one day, while outside studying for a test, a guy, working on my dad's house, came up and asked me how tall I was.  First thought, what is it this guy can't reach and should I help him.  When I told him that I was 5'9 1/2", he asked if I had ever thought of become a model.  Well sure, what little girl in her right mind hasn't.  Well, this gentleman, who, as I look back on things, was probably a pest control guy, proceeded to tell me that when he wasn't squishing bugs, in crevices he couldn't even reach, he worked part time as a modeling scout...I KNOW, I KNOW, but it was just like in my daydreams, I had to see what this guy was "selling" .

Thus began a year long regiment of self improvement and pictures, lots of pictures for the portfolio (mind you I NEVER did anything nude or sleazy).  Things were progressing, if not a bit slowly, but I was not real happy and very moody.  Let me remind you, this was during the extreme waif phase of modeling. So, most of my days were spent staring at food I couldn't have, running five miles everyday to work off the calories from food I never got to eat and doing aerobics everyday with the world's craziest step-mom, who for some unknown reason, 

thought we were in competition.  So, there I was...I had a 29 (or was it 23) inch waist, I was as fit as I'd ever been and just heard that I was probably going to be signed with Elite modeling agency!  And what did I do?  I packed up 

all my belongings and headed to Montana (a placed I had never been before in my life) to study wildlife biology and try to throw my name into the ever growing hat of people who wanted to study wolves.

Now skip ahead to 2012.  I have a good life.  I did get to study wolves, as well as coyotes, mountain lions, grizzly bears, black bears and elk.  I have been blessed to live in one of the most remote, and beautiful places in the United States and have been honored to work with some of the most respected wildlife biologists around.  Around 2000, I shifted gears and spent the next six years of my life working at an animal shelter.  What a gift to be able to dedicate my life helping animals whose lives may have otherwise been filled with loneliness and pain.  I continue to work tirelessly to help wild animals in sanctuaries (especially great apes and cats) to help ensure the pain, suffering and torture they have experienced in labs and the entertainment industry will be a thing of the past and that they can live out the remainder of their lives (sadly they cannot be returned to the wild) free of pain, loneliness and uncertainty.

But, five years ago, the day I got diagnosed with breast cancer, the daydreams started to fade.  It started slowly, not unlike the cancer.  But, as the cancer kept reoccurring, requiring more and more treatments, the daydreams were lost.  

It just became hard to imagine some "famous" musician or actor falling for the girl with no hair and no breasts!  The visions of dancing on stage, Dionne Warwick introducing me to the crowd, was lost in the ultimate thought of what could I possibly wear....I certainly couldn't pull off one of those Solid Gold outfits now.  I was watching the Victoria’s Secret runway show the other day and found myself feeling very melancholy.  Don't get me wrong, I don't regret my choice to leave Los Angeles for a life in the wild with my beloved animals, it was just, 

when I felt "whole" the options were still there.  I had beautiful hair and a somewhat decent body, so, if I could convince Tyra that I was about 10 years younger, I could still be America's Next Top Model....if I wanted!!  

Now, I have a body filled with scars from 11 surgeries.  I have lost my breast, and due to the constant re-occurrences, there is really no possibilities for any kind of reconstruction.  My two feet of hair, while hopefully made into a beautiful wig, for a child suffering from cancer, by the wonderful people at Locks of Love, is GONE.  My hair is starting to grow back, after a six month chemo regiment, but it's just not the same.

The fact that I can't daydream anymore has crept into my everyday life in the form of low self esteem and a loss of confidence.  If I can't even dream about being "whole" how am I supposed to feel “whole” in my waking hours?  I know some of the confidence will come back with time (and hard work), but to be honest, it just SUCKS!!!  For all the things cancer steals, it would be nice if the little creep could leave you your dreams.  

Regardless if I ever get to hang out with my best friend Simon, talking about literature and dWogs or with my ex-boyfriend George, chatting about hot men and writing a number one song together, I know I have to still try to dream!  Dream about trips to Belize, Borneo and Florida, to finally see some of the animals I fight so hard to protect.  Dream of dancing on stage, Mr. Cassidy still in total AWE.  Dream of finally accepting my Academy Award for Best Actress (I think I still have my speech tucked away somewhere, obviously not in my bra).  But, most importantly, I need to dream of being whole again and then make that dream, and some of the others, a reality.  There just isn’t time to keep wasting.  

DISCLAIMER:  No, I'm not delusional!  I just have a dry, sarcastic sense of 

humor and I'm goofy as hell...and there ain't nothing, especially not cancer, 

gonna take that from me!