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!

Please, Stop Calling Me Sir!

Please, Stop Calling Me Sir!

Dear Cancer, 

You have taken away my breasts (and, with your multiple re-occurrences, you have done so in a way that makes reconstruction nearly impossible), my hair and my feelings of security... can you please leave me my dignity?!  

Every time I walk out the door, I have to prepare myself for the inevitable greetings:  “Excuse me, sir”, “How was your meal, sir”, “Did you find what you were looking for, SIR”...  

 I am not a guy, I am a women, and, yes, I feel like ROARING right about now!      

   

Why, in today’s society, do we even use the titles "Sir" and "Ma’am"?  Men sport long hair, many women have gone to short, stylish coifs, and tons of people dress in a style that can be given no other name than androgynous.  So why, when there is so much potential for mistake, do we use these old fashioned titles of our parents’ (or even grandparents’) generation?  I know, it indicates respect.   And, I know when mistakes are made, no harm is actually meant.  But dammit people, it’s starting to hurt my feelings!  I’m reluctant to even venture out, for fear of the inevitable "Sir"  that I know is waiting for me at my local grocery store.

Some might tell me to stop whining and grow a thicker skin.  Others suggest I ignore the comments with, “They probably just weren’t paying attention”.  While I know this is all true and I appreciate the sentiment, it is not always the easiest thing to do when you feel that everything “womanly” has been taken from you.

But, come hell or high water, I plan to put my bravest girl/boy face on this Friday and venture out on the town.  For the first time since my double mastectomy, five months of chemo and two other major surgeries, I am going on an adventure-  and I don’t plan to let anything stop me.

Since I was twelve, the band Duran Duran has gotten me through some pretty tough times.  Broken family life, teenage angst and yes, even cancer.  I can even credit the band’s lead singer (yes, I’m talking about you Mr. LeBon!), as being one of my main inspirations for beginning to write poetry in high school.  

Sitting in the chemo chair every week, headphones securely attached, ipod set to my Duran Duran playlist, I made it through. Thanks to the grace of Duran Duran’s music and Simon LeBon’s lyrics, there was no way I was going to let cancer win.  There is not a song on that list that does not take me back to some memory.  The memories were mostly good, but even when a song brought up unpleasant feelings of the past, they all helped me through:  I made it to adulthood and was able to let go of the past,  and every song reminded me of my enduring strength and tenacity.

So thank you Duran Duran and Simon LeBon, songs like “Ordinary World”, with lyrics that seemed to echo my plight: 

What has happened to it all?

Crazy, some are saying

Where is the life that I recognize?

Gone away

But I won't cry for yesterday

There's an ordinary world

Somehow I have to find

And as I try to make my way

To the ordinary world

I will learn to survive

have given me the strength to keep fighting this battle.

So, this is why, you will find me in Everett, Washington this Friday.  For one night, I will let go of the last few years and just enjoy an evening with my best friend of thirty years and the band that helped me realize that I have the strength to get through any obstacle life throws my way.  If I can get through eleven surgeries and five months of chemo, I certainly won’t let something as simple as being called "Sir" get in my way of enjoying one of the few things in life that truly makes me happy.

With that being said, if you happen to see someone at the show with REALLY short hair, and you’re not sure if it’s a guy or a girl, just try not to force yourself to make a distinction.  Silly me, I probably don’t need to say that to Duran Duran fans, they are some of the most accepting, nonjudgemental people I have ever known.

And, Mr. Le Bon, if you happen to read this and “Ordinary World” just happens to be on the set list, I certainly wouldn’t argue if you wanted to dedicate it to me.  I’ll be somewhere in the first few rows.  Trust me, you won’t be able to miss me, I’ll be the GIRL with the short hair and the HUGE smile on her face.

Sincerely,

Monica 

Getting A Little Preachy

Getting A LIttle Preachy

By Monica Best

I know, I know, it is drilled into our heads almost daily.  Do self breast examines, don’t miss your annual check-up and, if it has been deemed “time”, have a yearly mammogram.  YES, these are ALL very important steps to take, the small town (relative to places like NYC or LA) where I live even has billboards reminding women of the importance of getting a mammogram.  With stark slogans like “Not enough time killed my sister” or “Just fifteen minutes saved my life” , the imaging center here in Montana really drives home the importance of annual mammogram screening. 

While I do find these tips VERY important, I myself found my tumor during a routine self examine, they will mean nothing if women don’t start becoming their Own Best Advocates.  What?????????

Let me try to explain.  “No, there is too much.  Let me sum up”.  In December 2007, when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I was a pretty easy-going 37-year- old hypochondriac.  How, you may ask, can easy-going and hypochondriac be used in the same sentence.  Let’s put it this way, I was always convinced I had some kind of disease.  Hantavirus, monkey pox or bird flu, whichever one was in season, I just knew I must have contracted it (pretty silly for a girl who spends her life working with animals).  You see, in my mind, if I said I had the disease, then I wouldn’t actually get it....are you following me?  I spent a lot of time at my doctor’s office, what a saint that woman is, complaining of aches, coughs, colds; really any symptom that went along with the virus of the moment.  Sometimes, I actually had something wrong; a bout with mono, bronchitis or an eye infection.  Once, after spending months in the backcountry, living in a tiny, mouse infested cabin, I actually had to be tested for haunivirus.  After two anxious days (originally the technicians said the results would be back in ten days. When I told them I’d be dead in two if I did in fact have the Haunta, they put a rush on it...thanks guys!!) I was given the all clear.  The point I’m trying to make is that I’ve always been super hyper-vigilant about my health and body. 

Hyper-Vigilance:  A blessing and a curse.  Some doctors just assumed I was down right crazy and that everything I was feeling was in my head.  But other doctors stood by me and continue standing strong today.

It was certainly a blessing a year after my initial cancer diagnosis.  Upon my original diagnosis, a small, 2 cm tumor in the right breast, identified as invasive ductal carcinoma, I had a lumpectomy and six weeks of radiation therapy. I started my daily regiment of tamoxifen and everyone assumed that was the end of that story.  But, you know what happens when you assume, it’s makes an A** out of your oncologist, who suddenly stops paying attention to your concerns.  

A little over a year after the lumpectomy, I noticed a weird “growth” on my scar.  My oncologist was adamant that it was “just scar tissue”.  After three more visits to have her take a look at my “scar tissue”, I realized she was getting mad and no longer paying attention.  Why the hell is she so mad, I’m the one dealing with cancer.  So, I took matters into my own hands and made an appointment to see my surgeon.  At first I was concerned (did I mention that along with being a hypochondriac, I’m also a HUGE worrier).  What if my quest for a second opinion makes my oncologist even more angry.  I mean, this women literally has my life in her hands and there aren’t many doctors in town.

That’s when it hit me.......

Be MY own best advocate!!!!

So what if she got angry, it’s MY body and MY life.  I was no longer willing to just sit idly by, appeasing someone else, when I KNEW there was something wrong.

Turns out, it was cancer, reoccurring locally, on the surface of the skin.  

Please, don’t misunderstand me, I am not advocating a mistrust in your doctor.  I am simply trying to stress the importance of trusting your own instincts.  We know our own bodies better than anyone else and we also have no idea what is going on in other people’s lives.  Turns out, the oncologist I was seeing at that time was going through numerous personal problems that were affecting her ability to do her job correctly.  While we all want to believe that our doctors don’t let their personal lives get in the way of their work, they are only human.  I’m not justifying her course of action (things actually got a lot worse, but that is a story for another time) and I still hold a bit of anger about how she dealt with things.  But, I have learned that I can’t control her actions.  What I can control is how My treatment will be handled.  I now have a wonderful team of doctors, who I know believe and trust my feelings.  They stress the importance of second (and even third) opinions and never take my concerns for granted. 

Even after having a double mastectomy and five months of chemotherapy, my cancer has reoccurred locally three more times.  But, each time something shows up, we are on top of it immediately....even if we think it might “just be scar tissue”.

  

Best part of all, after dealing with cancer for four years, I don’t really worry about the haunivirus anymore!

The Coolest Club You Never Wanted To Join

The Coolest Club You Never Wanted to Join

No, I’m not talking about the Hair Club For Men (or Women) although many of us could probably benefit from that.  I’m talking about The Cancer Club.  

From the second you walk into the door of your particular Cancer Center you are initiated as a new member, with all the benefits, good and bad, that membership entails.  While I’m sure the bad is pretty obvious, YOU HAVE CANCER, the good can often be overlooked.  

As you cross the threshold of the Cancer Center’s door, you are enveloped with caring hugs and compassion.  From the reception desk, to the chemo nurses all the way to your oncologist, you feel that you are truly being cared for.  In today’s society, with healthcare becoming so substandard, many would find this remarkable. But, what is even more remarkable is all the faces looking out from the treatment area.  Sitting comfortably in their Lazy Boys, needles and tubes snaking out from their ports, you are utterly shocked at how many people are affected.  But, the most remarkable thing is the knowing on their faces; you realize, no matter what else happens, you will never be alone again.  Suddenly, there are welcoming smiles, beckoning you to come sit in the chair next to them.  Wow, for someone who was always picked last for sports teams in elementary school this was amazing...they liked me, they really liked me.  No Monica, they loved you and you knew immediately that you loved each and every one of them.  We were all in this battle together, and even if no one else ever understood, you had your “club”.

While most would think the treatment area of a cancer center would be one of the top ten most depressing places in the world, I don’t think I can remember a time I’ve heard so much laughter and camaraderie.  Best part of all, you NEVER have to impress anyone: you don’t need to wear makeup, do your hair (duh, most of us don’t have any) or make up stories about grand adventures you never took...you are on the grandest adventure of your life and these people will never judge you, they accept you just the way you are! 

This acceptance gives you the courage to reach out to others, find new outlets to discuss your journey and find even more friends.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all puppies and unicorns, lets not forget, we have Cancer.  The toughest part about your induction into the club; statistically, some of us are going to get sicker.  Cancers may reoccur, chemotherapy may not work and surgeries may not be able to get entire tumors.  How can we possibly watch our fellow club members get sicker, I want out...PLEASE, don’t renew my subscription!!!  But that is not how you respond, you hold their hand through the next treatment, you send them encouraging messages to let them know you’re there and you NEVER give up.  Is there a part of you that can hardly stand to acknowledge your friend’s pain because you know it could be you next, of course, we’re still human.  But your new friends have given you strength and courage that you never knew you possessed and you know, as long as you are able, you will NEVER leave their side. 

 Thank you to all my new friends in the club for never giving up!!

Starting Over

Used to be the word Cancer was whispered, in small circles, by those few individuals and their families affected by the disease.  The “C” word did not extend to the depths we have seen it reach today.  So prevalent has this disease become, that it is impossible not to know someone who is being affected or who is themselves a patient (I just hate the word victim).  Whether it be a family member, friend or a stranger you met at the grocery store or even on a social networking site, cancer is a devastating disease that we must all learn to deal with and help each other through.

I myself, was diagnosed with breast cancer in December of 2007.  The last four years have been a roller coaster ride of emotions; fear, anger, sorrow, loss and even joy.  Many lessons have been learned and I have been forced to discard old knowledge; knowledge that, for better or worse, even defined my life.

As I start to gain tools to help me learn to live again, there is one common thread that has remained through this entire journey:  Friendship.

Some family and friends aren’t quite sure how to deal with the diagnosis, but they remain by your side through thick and thin. Some were old friends, friends that should have never been “lost," but somehow, through the grace of some higher power, were brought back to you, just in the nick of time.  Some are brand new friends; the girl who befriended you your first day in the chemo chair or the musician who “followed” you on Twitter with such encouraging and positive vibes you wonder how you ever made it through without them in your life before. Some were friends or loved ones of friends, whom you never had the honor to meet, but sent encouraging cards and the most beautiful, hand-made hats you have ever seen...and some seemed to disappear, the reality was just to harsh.

The pain of the disappearing friends, is devastating, but they still play a vital role in your treatment and recovery.  I have had to reevaluate my entire ideal of what support and friendship has meant and I believe It has made me a better person.

Through the last four years I have considered writing a blog to describe my journey.  The surgeries, eleven in the last four years, the weeks of radiation therapy, the months of chemo, including the ever dreadful hair loss, the trial and error of support groups...each and everyone an important and trying part of my treatment and recovery, but I was never quite ready to share things on that blog level.

Last night, as a new friend started to loose her hair due to chemo treatments, I decided it was time.  It’s not that I feel my life is so interesting that hundreds of people will want to read and share in my experiences, but the knowledge that if I can help just one person get through all that a cancer diagnosis brings, it will be worth it.

So, if you’re ready....here we go!!!