Happy Little Home-Maker

I am so impressed by my youngest daughter.

A few months ago, one of her good friends from school gave my daughter a really nice cookbook for her Bat Mitzvah.

My daughter decided she wanted to prepare our meals for the holiday. She carefully went through her cookbook and chose the recipes she wished to prepare.  With a little teamwork, Moshe and I convinced her to settle on two main dishes and two appetizers.

On Sunday, I helped her prepare a shopping list.  On Monday, our friend who shops for us, took her shopping to pick up the ingredients she needs.  Today, Tuesday, she started cooking.

Since I was too tired to help much today, my daughter chose to start with a simple, but very time consuming, recipe; we both felt she could probably make it on her own.

She made Sambusas -- dough filled pastries.

The filling came out amazing and the Sambusas look great.  They do not seem to have puffed up as we expected, and we are not quite sure why.  Nevertheless, my daughter tasted one and they taste good.

Pretty impressive for her first dish!



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Chemo Day -- Herception, Doxil, Blood & More

I knew today would be a bit crazy, I just did not realized how crazy it would get.

The day started out in a fairly benign way.  There was some crisis at the hospital, earlier this morning, so my meeting with the oncologist began an hour late.  But the meeting itself was fairly straightforward. We addressed my long list of questions, scheduled a bunch of tests, and had a physical exam.

During the meeting, one of the nurses came in and hooked me up to the Herceptin.  And so the day began....

On my way to relax in the day room, Moshe approached me in a panic.

"They can't find it," he told me, with a worried look on his face.

The insurance company, which provides the actual Doxil for me, had called yesterday to inform Moshe that the Doxil was at the hospital since Tuesday. 

Only, it turns out that they, in fact, had not delivered the Doxil on Tuesday, nor on Wedneday, nor today.

God bless my husband, he stressed out about the problem, but he fixed it all on his own, which was not quick or simple.  I did not have to worry about anything, because he took care of me.

I do not tell him often enough how much I value and appreciate the way he looks after me.  On the flip side, I am quick to comment when he falls short, which is just not a good attribute on my part.  I am working on changing this, but the change is slow.

Once everything fell into place, Moshe hurried off to work, much later than he expected.

To my great surprise and pleasure, LS, who had to do something that morning at the hospital, came to visit me and ended up spending the day with me.  The day ended up being much longer than I expected, and she helped me with all sorts of little details and necessary errands.  Moreover, she provided wonderful company, and made the time pass much more pleasantly.

Moshe had fixed the glitch so well, that I was able to start the Doxil as soon as I finished receiving the Herceptin.  In theory, I could have gotten out of the hospital at a decent hour. In practice, there is always someone who throws a wrench into the works... One of the nurses told me that my counts were low again and I would need to come in next week to receive another portion of blood.

I really did not want to come in next week.  I asked to get the blood today, but the nurse insisted there would not be enough time today.

Never someone to take "no" for an answer without trying to find a way around it, I asked (read: begged) one of the other nurses to help see if I could get the blood today.

As is, next week I have an MRI of my head on Tuesday, an MRI of my right hip on Wednesday (if I get approval from my health fund in time), and my bone drug on Thursday.  Three days at the hospital is enough for one week!

Also, though the promise that the blood will help with my energy level did not pan out the last time, I really hoped that this time the blood would help restore some of my energy,

With the help of this other nurse, and of my friend, LS, who ran around the hospital helping the process move along, we managed to get the blood in time.

The infusion finally finished around 4:15.

I walked out of the hospital at 4:30.

I had accomplished quite a bit. In addition to the chemo and the socializing, I mended two pairs of pants for Moshe, and a handbag for me.

I also drank two cups of pea soup, a cup and a half of iced coffee, at least a liter of water, downed several Percocets, and found a friend to pick me up and take me home.

Not bad, for a 7 ½ hour day at the hospital!

I was ready for a nap!

However, after being out all day, my youngest, who had been home, on her own, for several hours, needed some attention.  So, I kept her company while she ate.  To her chagrin, while I sat with her, I also helped eat most of her mango.... (she offered to share with me, but had not intended to share quite that much.)

After lunch, we sat on the couch and, in response to her lunchtime request, I told her the story of how Moshe and I got married. She knew most of the story, but wanted to hear it again.  I think she appreciated the story even more, this time around.

Afterwards, I headed towards my room, and my bed.  Somehow, I got distracted along the way, and got sidetracked sorting through school books.

Eventually, I could not stand on my feet any longer.  I headed off to bed.

I am beat!



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Proud Parenting Moment -- She Read the WHOLE THING!

Today, my youngest daughter read the entire parsha for Shirat Sarah, our women's Tefillah (prayer) group.

She did a fantastic job!

I am so proud.

I wanted to write more, but my right hip and leg are spazzing out.  I am in so much pain, even after taking pain killers.  I just cannot write more right now.

I am so grateful to God for keeping my pain down to a minimum during Shabbat.  I was really able to enjoy our simcha.

I'll write more another time. (b'li neder)



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Medical Update (Doxil + Herceptin)

Between trying to manage my health and trying to plan a simcha (celebration), we are all at our wits end!

We have had lengthy discussions with three oncologists regarding my upcoming treatment.

My main oncologist recommends Doxil.*

The oncologist with whom we had a phone consultation made several recommendations, all involving Herceptin.

And our semi-local "second opinion" oncologist (who is in the Tel Aviv area), with whom Moshe always insists we meet before beginning any new treatment, agreed that I should switch to Doxil + Herceptin. 

She also said that, according to the current (and new) laws, both should be covered by our health fund.

We are not finding the health fund so forthcoming.  We are challenging the health fun.  At the same time, we are applying to our supplemental insurance for coverage of the Doxil.  The supplemental insurance won't cover Herceptin, because I took that drug before I signed up for coverage.

Meanwhile, my markers are shooting through the roof, but we know there is progression, so no one is getting all excited about that.... except Moshe and me.  And I am so scared about what has been going on inside my body since my last tests showed progression. 

We just cannot play this waiting game.  So, we are looking into funding the first few treatments on our own (with help, of course).

Once we get approved for funding, we should be reimbursed.... ("should" being the operative word)

Meanwhile, I am in pain, and sometimes the pain can get quite serious.

Like now, when my hip hurts so much that I cannot sit, or lie, comfortably, and my thigh muscle is having some sort of electric spasm!

My head is exploding with all the things I have to do tomorrow!!!

Our daughter's Bat Mitzvah is THIS SHABBAT!!

She will be reading ALL of Parhsat Balak at our women's Tefillah group! 

I am so proud of her!!!



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

* Doxil was developed in Israel, by Prof. Alberto (Avraham) Gabizon, who is currently the head of oncology at Sha'are Zedek.  (See # 69 and # 70 in this list of Gabizon's professional publications)

Vegetarian Pregnancy Problem -- What to do When Your Fetus Craves Meat?

I was a strict vegetarian for years.  You know, the crazy kind of vegetarian that only religious Jews can be.

"What, that chicken touched this potato?  Of course, I cannot eat the potato!"

Well, all that changed when I was pregnant...

In the middle of my first pregnancy, Moshe and I were visiting friends for Shabbat.  They served a very simple lunch, including a platter of Israeli cold cuts.

Now, I love deli meat (especially corned beef and pastrami).  But, let's face it, the deli meat in Israel is lousy.

The quality of the meat did not deter me.  I sat at the table and salivated.  I felt as if the earth was about to open up and swallow me (note the Korach connection to last week's parsha) and the only thing that could save me was to eat the cold cuts.

But I was a vegetarian!!

Now, I was not really a fanatical vegetarian.  I did not believe that meat eaters were morally inferior.  I simply believed that refraining from killing animals was a preferable way to live. I always claimed that if I craved meat, it would be a sign that my body needed the meat.

For years, eating meat was a non-issue.

Then, there I was, craving deli meats.

For an hour, I asked Moshe what I should do.  I just wanted him to tell me: "It is okay for you to eat the meat."

God bless my husband, he never tells me what to do.

Always sensitive, he tells me, instead: "It is your choice. Whatever you decide is okay."

NOT THE SAME!!

For an hour (an hour!), I suffered.

Then, I succumbed.

I swore my husband and my friends to secrecy; then I gobbled up the entire plate of cold cuts!

I thought my cravings for chicken would go away after I gave birth, but they did not.  Apparently, nursing had the same physical/nutritional effect on my body as being pregnant.  I needed meat.

Finally, I decided.  If I could face my vegan friend and admit that I was no longer vegetarian, I could cross over to "the dark side."

My friend, who is an ideological vegan, was so supportive.  I will forever be grateful to her for not judging me.

It took years for the cravings to end.

It took chemo to make chicken unappealing.

I am not likely to become vegetarian again.  I still like good deli and a good all-beef hot dog!  But I would rather drink a glass of milk than have a piece of chicken.

Meanwhile, it is part of our family lore, that it is my eldest daughter's fault that I am no longer vegetarian.

All the above is to explain why I was so touched when my eldest daughter called me over yesterday, to "come watch this (episode of Friends), it is all about us!"

The B-plot of the episode is about Phoebe, a strict vegetarian, who is pregnant and.... craves meat. 

We watched together and just laughed!!



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

My Little Homemaker

Two weeks ago, my younger daughter announced that she wants to make supper.

Her class put together a recipe book and she was excited about cooking.

So, she added the ingredients she wanted to our shopping list and we got what she needed.

She made an orange soup and homemade pizza.

Very impressive.

Also, a bit funny.

I left her in the kitchen, on her own, since she seemed so confident.  After a few minutes, she asked if she should add eggs to make the dough.  I asked what it said in the recipe. 

It turns out, her pizza recipe calls for dough, but did not include instructions on how to make it.   She knew she needed flour and water....

I went into the kitchen, and saw her stirring a liquidy mixture. 

"How much flour and water did you put in?" I asked.

With an innocent smile, she answered "the rest of the whole wheat flour and about two cups of water."  Then she showed me the drinking cup that she used to "measure" the water.

"OK," I said, taking a deep breath.

Then I did what any person who has no idea how to bake should do.  I called LF.

My sister likes to say "if you took LF and dropped her in the 18th century, she'd be fine."  LF knows how to cook, bake, sew, grow things, etc.

Sure enough, she guided me and my daughter, step by step, until we had a decent dough and a good laugh.

I stayed in the kitchen after that, to help where I could.  My daughter really wanted to make dinner herself. 

It was fun cooking with her. 

She did a fantastic job!!




Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Finders Keepers -- My Eldest Daughter's Magical Talents

I looked. 

I spent at least an hour looking, if not more.  I looked in all the logical places.

I could not find my ID cards.

I replaced a few cards and, still, I did not find the rest of my cards.

I looked again.

I tried to remember where I put them.  I could not retract an image from my memory.

I knew I put them somewhere easy.  I just could not remember where.

I needed my credit card. 

I kept putting off calling for a replacement.  I did not want the credit card company to issue a new card with a new number.  All our bills are charged automatically to my card.  I would have to call EVERY service provided (water, electricity telephone, insurance, etc) to change our bills.  I dreaded the thought.

I knew the card was somewhere at home.

My eldest said she would help me find them.  She is THE BEST at finding things.  I do not know how she does it, but she finds things when nobody else succeeds.

She felt confident she could find my cards (I admit, I was skeptical), but she had been too busy to look.

Then, she had a day off of school and we wanted to spend some quality time together.  As a special treat, we decided to get sushi for lunch.  But I did not have my credit card.  So, with a sushi incentive, my daughter went to look for my hidden treasure.

Less than five minutes later, she came and asked, "Are these your cards?"

How did she do it?

They were right there, in a place I had looked several times.

How did I miss seeing them?

Why could my daughter find them and I could not?

There is only one explanation:  My daughter is magic!



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Proud Parenting Moments -- Shattered Feelings Mended

When I wrote about the bottle of wine that fell and shattered all over my kitchen floor, I focused on my feelings.

Today, while relating the story to a friend, I realized that I overlooked the very mature and impressive reaction of my eldest daughter.

Background:
Y had three Purim packages to deliver to elderly residents of our neighborhood. Apparently the boys from Ezra were supposed to deliver a bunch of packages, but weren't able to deliver them all, so they gave some to the girls. Y wasn't able to deliver her packages right away, and I asked her to keep them in her room, so they wouldn't get knocked over and broken by mistake. Y didn't want to put them in her room, and chose an "out of the way" place on the kitchen floor.

Not surprisingly, when I moved the bag and the bottle fell and shattered, I was quite upset.

I called Y, to tell her what happened and to express my chagrin that, had she listened to my request, this could have been avoided.

To her credit, Y apologized right away and said "Ima, leave it. I'll clean it up as soon as I get home."

With those simple words, my anger dissipated.

I explained that I could not leave the mess for her, because it would dry up and get gross and sticky.

Y again apologized and expressed her willingness to clean it up, even if it would be difficult.

I was tired; I was frustrated; but I was no longer angry.

Had she tried to justify what she did or "defend" her actions, I certainly would have responded differently.

But after Y apologized again, so sweetly and sincerely, I simply requested that she remember this event and listen next time.

Then I got down on my hands and knees to clean the mess.... and tried to laugh about it.


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

More Moments of (Bittersweet) Joy

After my son and youngest daughter were all tucked in, my eldest came over and finally shared the current drama in her life.

Something is going on in her youth group, and it has been weighing heavily on her shoulders.

I offered to help, but she wanted to see if she could take care of this on her own. So, I gave her space and tried not to ask too many questions.

Tonight, after a LONG conversation with her madricha (counselor), she felt like talking.

She had already told me that she feels like it is her responsibility to "fix" the problem, since the girls "only feel comfortable talking with me."

She doesn't see this as a compliment.

"Why not," I ask her.

"It's not my job," she states matter-of-factly. But there is more to it than that.

Her frustration is compounded by her feeling that the girls don't even really know her.

A few days ago she revealed "they don't even know you have cancer."

At the time, I didn't know how to respond.

I told her about all the ways that the girls do know her, like knowing she's a good listener, and can be trusted, and gives good advice.

That didn't comfort her. And I was too stunned to know what else to say.

I've had a few days to think about it since then.

So, tonight, when she repeated the thing about the cancer (within the context of her conversation with her madricha), I asked why she felt that it was so important. Until now, it seemed like she didn't want to talk about it with her friends, and didn't feel it was such a big deal anyway.

She explained that she assured her madricha that I was in no danger and that I was OK (which, she related, was a relief to her madricha), but that it was difficult to have a mother with cancer.

I ventured to suggest that chemo is only one day a week.

She quickly put me in my place.

"No, it affects everything!" For her and for me, she insisted.

The evidence of my cancer is a daily presence, whether it's the chemo, or being tired, or having a "handicapped parking" permit, or the fact that I take pain killers every day.

And it's not the kind of thing that comes up naturally in a peulah (activity) -- "Oh, yeah, by the way, my mom has cancer..."

She doesn't want the girls to feel sorry for her.

She does want them to know.

My daughter went on to tell me all the ins and outs of the relationships between the girls and the madricha. On Tuesday, the madricha is going to run a peulah about their group's dynamics.

It is a relief for my daughter to know that she is no longer personally responsible for the group's cohesion.

It is still unclear when or how the elephant in the corner will be revealed.

I trust that she will work it out.

She knows that I am here to help her.

For now, she is trying to resolve this in her own way, in her own voice.


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Moments of Joy

My son just joined Sayarut (like the Boy Scouts, but without badges, and coed).

Today, he came home from a Sayarut tiyul (hike), tired and hungry.

Moshe brought him straight to the pool, for his swimming lesson; which would have been great, except he got there too late, and had to wait around until we were ready to leave.

At first, he sat next to me, as I watched my final class finish swimming laps. It was sweet. He held my hand, and told me all about the tiyul. (shhhhh, don't tell!! He's too "cool" to hold his mommy's hand! But, sometimes, he forgets....)

Anyway, after ten minutes, he got bored and, understandably, a little grumpy. OK, a lot grumpy.

I knew that I had to get him home, fed, and into bed.

So, imagine my surprise, when, even before we got home, he started offering to help, at every possible opportunity! He even helped his little sister, who was a total grumpy-head!!

I thought, Moshiah (the Messiah), must be coming!! (and I don't usually think he (or she) is about to get off the plane anytime soon...)

He was a perfect little gentleman throughout dinner. He was generous, and patient, and helpful, and more. I asked him for a cup of water and he jumped up and got water for everyone! (Usually, his little sister does that, but she was still sulking. Thank God, she got over it (whatever "it" was), by the end of supper)

Anyway, back to my unexpected angel: When I asked him to load the dishwasher, he asked permission to go to the bathroom first! And then, when he came back, he loaded the dishwasher without being reminded!!

I don't know how many of you have 11 year old boys, but I have never seen my 11 year old boy act this way.

Before my son was born, I had all sorts of egalitarian ideas about raising boys.

Let me tell you, those dolls didn't make a bit of difference!

I have a stereotypical BOY! He builds spaceships out of LEGO, climbs trees so high that I can't look, plays soccer every recess, and even does the "Tom Sawyer thing" and gets his little sister (you know, the one with whom he bickers all the time) to clean his room for him!

My son can run around for hours, and not get tired. But, ask him to help around the house and then he is "too tired."

Not tonight!

After he had done everything, and more, he headed off to bed. As he was about to round the corner, he turned and asked: "was I good?"

"You were great!" I answered, enthusiastically.

He raised his arms like he'd won the soccer championship and his face was beaming!

When he was all ready for bed, he came over and started philosophizing about behavior and how what we do makes us feel. Clearly, his change in attitude was the result of a conscious decision.

He's definitely a boy, but he's on his way to being the Philosopher King....

That's fine with me....just as long as he helps with the dishes!


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA