More Promising Cancer News

My dear husband forwarded an article to me a few days ago, which I almost didn’t see. Thank goodness I did because things like this produce a small sigh of relief in that part of my chest where I keep all those fears of a reoccurance bottled up. (You can’t live in fear, but anyone who’s had cancer and says those fears don’t crouch somewhere and occasionally pop their head up is lying.)

The news? That over 2 years, Australian scientists have had a 100% success rate treating cancerous mice with “Trojan horse” cells. One hundred percent!

Cancer cells pull this clever trick by where they turn on a gene to make proteins which resist cancer drugs. This new therapy injects something that the cancer cells let in unsuspectingly, when then turns taht gene off. Then, chemo drugs can target the cancer cells, and they have no defense. Obviously, I’m a layman of epic proportions, so read the promising news for yourself.

Human trials will be starting soon. I hope to hear more soon, otherwise my fingers will freezed in the fervently crossed position.

For my friends

For those friends who read this blog to keep up with me when I haven’t seen you in a while, I’ve not been showing you much love here. Mostly I’ve just been enjoying a mild summer start in DC. A few museums, a few movies, some al fresco dining.

Yesterday I returned from the training Flight Attendants have to do every year. That’s right, every year we all go to our company’s base training center and get tested on reforming evacuations on every plane, plus CPR and other medical emergency requirements. F/As hate recurrent training – no one likes to go back to the Mother Ship, so to speak. Memories of Barbie Bootcamp linger for decades and we’d all rather avoid going back. However, the company puts together great training programs and once I’m there, and through with the long classes, I’m always glad that we have to do it.

This year the program involved 5 surprise scenarios. Out of a class of 20 or so, each of us are called once to be “crew” on one of the model plane cabins where we practice all this. The crew comes back in, we all pretend to be in flight, and some sort of emergency springs up. We’re then evaluated on how we handle the situation as a crew. And, if I may toot my own horn, I was selected out by the instructors as having preformed my particular assignment “the single best we’ve seen all year long.” (Score!) Am I a “super Stu” or what?

So one more year down, I’m back in the skies all refreshed, still hoping I never have to use any of it of course. Today I’m in NYC, having been released by work for the day, but I was already here last night before I got that notice. So I’ll go spend the night with my friend Wendy, as I’ve been promising to do. (I’ll say hello from those who know her now.) Hopefully I can get back to London/Brussels in the next few days.

More gene testing

When I was getting the gene testing, it was kind of a big deal that – although we had drawn my grandmother’s blood for genetic testing before she died – it had been thrown away in the end. So we had no cancer-positive family member against which to compare my own genetic info. This greatly lowers the efficacy of the testing, as they’re basically just having to search all of your DNA randomly. It’s a major needle in the haystack sort of thing. But what can ya do? If you recall, I came back negative for BRCA 1 & 2.

A few days ago, my cousin called me, asking about more genetic testing. Her mother died from breast cancer; both she and my other cousin have also tested negative for BRCA. Interestingly, her geneticist said to her, once she heard that I had tested negative, that “you’re not going to find anything.” And they didn’t. However, this geneticist holds the position that there’s virtually no way my cancer was not genetic. “If it’s not genetic, your family just has the most statistically impressive hits ever. And to have had it at age 29 on top of that- there’s no way it’s not genetic.”

You see, with genetic testing, apparently not everyone gets the same treatment. You may have a larger or smaller “arrangement” of genetic sampling that they chose to look at. I was simply told, “it’s not economically feasible to test everyone for all the [more rare] genetic mutations, just the most common ones – BRCA 1/2.” So the question is, how large of an arrangement did I have? My test took something close to 1 year to come back – which would imply that I had a very large arrangement done. However, I took the quotes above from my doctor to mean I was only being tested for BRCA.

Regardless, I have now been [gladly] volunteered by my family to pursue further testing to see if they can turn up one of the more rare – or even new – mutations. Who knows, maybe we’ll discover a new one, and we can name it something fun. My cousin came up with some great suggestions. I think KLRBOOB1 has an effective ring to it. Think on it. I’ll let you know what we find.

Swine Flu

Around the peak of the swine flu hysteria, I engaged in the slightest kerfuffle on Facebook. A guy from high school had left a status update concerning swine flu. It connected the phrases “swine flu”, “left wing media” and “blah blah blah”.

Now, was it overblown, was it not? I don’t know. And I have to tell ya, I don’t really care. I’d rather it be overblown than under. (Once you decide it was underblown, it’s really too late, isn’t it?) And anyway, given my job, for me it is not overblown. But I do understand that not everyone is in my position. However, this guy used obvious language that was about turning it into a political snipe fest, which I just can’t stand. I mean puh-lease. Can’t something not be about you and your dislike of the other political side? That kind of crap drives me crazy.

So I responded to him, saying yes, I’m sure it was a left-wing conspiracy. And when I was on the plane working across the ocean with 200 people from god-knows-where 3 times a week, I could protect myself with the magic words “blah blah blah” and know that everything would be alright. He private messaged me saying “Um, I’m not sure if you’re on my side or not. But I think you were being sarcastic.” Bingo.

So now, several weeks later, the drama of swine flu (or Mexican Flu, as they call it in much of Europe) has subsided. On Wednesday I flew to Brussels on a 757. (On that new single-aisle charmer of an airplane that my company has decided they are going to cram people into and fly them across the ocean, even though it was never meant to fly inter-continental so everyone is eating elbows and getting angry – including the crew? Yes, it sucks as bad as it sounds, but I digress…) Got there on Thursday morning, had a great layover just relaxing, writing, then meeting my friends Amy and Matt and Pieter for dinner. Bright and early Friday morning I arrive at the airport, am greeted by some company friends who are always working the flights. “Sarah, I have a letter for you.”

“For me?” I love mail.

“For you.”

I open it up…”Dear Crew member XXX, We have been informed by the Belgian crisis center that a passenger you carried from JFK to BRU on Wednesday night has been confirmed to have the N1H1 virus…”, blah blah blah, “you have been exposed…”.

Well, that is just awesome.

The jackass who had it must’ve known s/he was sick on Wed night, if they were tested and confirmed by Fri morning, but we noticed no one who was ill. The letter doesn’t even tell us what class of service the germ-spreader was in, so I have no idea how much contact I had with him/her. I think the chances of me getting it are slim (knock on wood), but wouldn’t you know that my new baby niece is headed my way this week?

My company is apparently not worried, as they offered nothing more than Tamiflu IF I become sick within 10 days. (As long as I have my letter as proof, of course. They’re so caring.) I’d think if it was a big concern then there would be motions to keep exposed crew from the public, since we’re the people who will really spread it around the world. Gosh, I hope I remembered to say the magic protective words sometime during the night. Maybe I should say them now, just in case. “Swine Flu, blah blah blah.”

Celebrity Sighting

I have a particular talent – for not noticing when someone, er, noticeable is right in front of me. I could be sitting on a bench with Julia Roberts and I’d walk away without even realizing.

Of course, we also get celebrities on the plane. I have seen relatively few as I’ve never worked the NY-LA nor the NY-London route regularly, which is where they all are to be found. To Paris, of course, we mostly get models and, what’s more, over the last howevermany years, fewer and fewer celebs took public planes, as it became de rigueur to charter private ones. But the bad economy seems to be bringing them back to First Class and even I have seen them now. Two in one trip!

On this trip to London I had Eva Longoria. True to form, I was standing at McDonald’s right next to her without even noticing. Her entourage even spoke to us. A nice guy said, “Hey, are you going to London?…We are too! See you down there!” I his cheerful chatter and then went on my way to the plane. Then a colleague approached and said, “Can you believe how small Eva is?” I had no idea what he was talking about and swore up and down there was no way she’d been standing right next to me. But when I looked back from afar, there she was. Small enough to appear further away then she really was.

I don’t personally care about celebrities per se. I’d never go talk to them or pay any special attention (in fact I probably come off as pretty snooty as I make a point of not fussing over them), but it is kinda neat to spot them from time to time. I did, however, go say hello and shake the hand of Kofi Annan, out of an obviously different sort of respect/interest.

Eva and her friends were very nice. She was quite pretty in real life (more than expected as I’ve never particularly understood the fuss over her) and boy, was she tiny. Not “thin” tiny (though she is of course) but I mean tiny tiny. I’m only 5′4 but she made me feel like a giant. When she got off the plane, she had on towering heels. (No wonder they are escorted to their own exit – she couldn’t possibly walk all the way to customs in those things like the rest of us!)

Then on my commuter flight home to DC, I boarded the plane to find my seat…right past John Lithgow. I couldn’t believe that I had noticed! So that makes 2 celebs in one trip. Plus, Keifer Sutherland from last month and wow – 2009 has already set a record for me. I guess the economy really is bringing people “down” to First Class. So far, none noted in Business Class. That would be an economic trend to note.

Who has time to be married?

When I got back from my last trip, I had one night home. Usually I’m too tired to go out after a work day, but my day had been sooooo rough and I was so eager to spend some time with my new husband that I agreed. What we discovered is that you can order a bottle of champagne to share at the restaurant next to our place for only $25. So we sat outside together and got quite tipsy. That was a fun first married date!

But that’s been our only real time together since the wedding! Since returning home it’s been nonstop. I have had only 1 whole day here since I left for England (2 weeks prior to the big day). My first trip back, my dad met me in Paris after his own travels, which I was really excited about. He hadn’t been there in 17 years, and he had a great time just soaking in the smell of it all, so to speak. We basically took a tour of the most expensive coffees in Paris. (Try Cafe Georges, for example, on top of the George Pompidou Center. It’s a place where the all the waiters and waitresses wear tiny black rags for clothes and surely carry modeling portfolios. Aside from that entertainment, the view is the best in all of Paris. It better be, considering we paid $30 for 2 coffees and a dessert that consisted of 5 spoonfuls of strawberries and cream.)

Then I worked to Brussels (on the 757 -yuck! Flying a single-aisle plane for 8 hours is not a great idea. Expect an uptick in air rage incidents – from the crew!) and after that I also went to see a dear friend graduate from Duke and got to visit with my 8-week-old niece. Who’d have known kids could be so addictive? (At least when you can still opt not to wake up to feed them throughout the night…) I hated not to be spending time with my new husband but at least I got to see my sis for her first Mother’s Day. That being said, Happy Mother’s Day to all of you awesome mom’s out there (a little bit late but just as sincerely).

We’re finally choosing photos from the photographer. I don’t have posting rights for those yet but here’s a couple from our own files.

The surprise of the night – the abbey interrupted our dinner to “say goodbye” to one of their chefs who was moving home to Italy. She said a few humble words and finished off by bursting into song! A half hour show ensued of everything from opera to ABBA; they had me crying and laughing. My in-laws sure know how to throw a surprise!

View from our room. Might as well have been on our honeymoon….getting married is fun. Are you sure I can’t opt to do it again?

Highs and lows

When I turned 20 I was living in France for my study abroad. It was already then concluded to be the best year of my life. It’s hard to describe why, other than feeling like the world was made up of fellow 20-year-olds, situated on the beach of Southern France, inhabited by people that I thought were the coolest ever, and they seemed to feel the same. Everyone was interesting, smart, attractive, fun, interested in the same subjects, learning the same things together. It was like living with all of your best friends ever in one place, one without worries.

How depressing that was. My 20 year-old-self thought, “How can I live a happy life, knowing the best year is over!? Now I have to live 60 years (should I be so lucky) trying to not to look wistfully back.” Eventually I came to terms with that (I mean, after all, isn’t that the very definition of being 20? Thinking in dramatic terms that life could never be so good.)

Well, I am pleased to announce to my 20-year-old-self that my year in France has met it’s match in the wedding. Surrounded by people that I think are just the best, all of whom have gone through a lot of trouble to show up and demonstrate that they feel the same, all meeting each other at long last to make the connections I’ve long wished could be made – it’s the same as study abroad was. Sadly we couldn’t invite everyone we’d have liked, and it only lasted for days. But hey – at least we dragged it out that long! That’s the place that I wish Del and I could move to (you know, the place where all of our loved ones live. All together.)

Similarly, it seems cruel that we are now at home and – aside from the mess of suitcases and some boxes just waiting to be opened – it’s almost like we never left.

Everyone tells you that your wedding will go by in a blur. To take it easy, take a breath, soak it all in. Well, guess what? It’s nice advice, but it doesn’t help at all. Time is the trickiest of forces. You can pay close attention all you like, but he won’t be slowed or sped. He’ll bring everything you’ve waiting for, but he also promises to take it away. What a thorny friend.

My sweet sisters and best friend all seemed to have the post-wedding blues for me. I’m hoping they have taken the bullet in my place and that I can avoid the sadness that comes when most of the people you love most in the world have come together and thrown a big love-fest for you and then gone home. Like before, they’re now spread again to the 4 corners of the globe. I just can’t wait for the next wedding. Sister – you’re next up!

P.S. No wedding photos yet. We’re waiting, waiting…

Married!

We’ve done it. After 18 months of engagement and planning, the wedding has finally come and gone and oh my goodness what fun it was. Let me just say this – we are so, unbelievably spoiled. In family, in friends, in generosity, in affection. At times, it kinda felt like I was in Disneyland, and there was some elaborate parade put on for us.

I so hate for it to be over but at the same time we’ve partied for five days now and I can’t wait for a full night’s sleep (hence, a super short post with little details as of yet). That’s right, it’s ended up being five days of festivities – you’d think we were Indian, doing it up for so long!

I just wanted to pop in and say “Yeay!” and to share what an unbelievably wonderful weekend we had, full of (most of) the people we most love, all together in the same place. If the attendees are to be believed, it was one of the most cryin-est weddings ever. But also one of the most fun (well, I’m judging that by the photos of certain friends streaking around the gardens at 5am!). I promise to be back soon with some photos and more details. Meanwhile, I hope this weekend, you all felt as lucky and loved as we did.

Babies and Weddings

Earlier this week, I returned home from visiting my new niece!

Wait – first an update. About the missed Zurich trip for work: supposedly my manager is going to remove it from my record, since I attempted so many flights. I’m not sure if this is technically possible, but I’m not questioning it. I just said “thank you” and crossed my fingers! We’ll see…

After my unexpected weekend home, I went to Atlanta as planned to meet my first niece. And, of course, she’s awesome. Three weeks old that day, she’s a tiny little blobby, though her features are already shaping from “blobby” to “miniature person”, which is really their most want-to-ball-them-up-and-put-them-in-my-pocket stage of cute.

Here’s what I learned – wow! Babies are more work than I even imagined. I literally don’t understand how people do it.  I only stayed for 3 nights, during which I tried to be as helpful as feasible. For me that meant taking the 5 or 6am feeding and keeping her until the ‘rents woke up. I knew that meant getting up every 2 hours or so to feed them. What I didn’t know was that new parents very possibly don’t sleep in between feedings either! If she was sleeping and had gas (of which she has much!), this would make her momentarily fussy. I would race over to be ready to sooth her if she was going to full-on cry (because I didn’t want her to wake herself up more if I could help it). But if she was fast asleep, I still didn’t sleep because I’d think, “She’s so quiet. I hope she’s ok…Maybe I should go poke her, just to make sure.” Aack! After three nights and 4 days I returned home and that night slept for 11 hours! I only wish my sister and BIL could do the same. Well done though, guys. Little Hannah is awesome. Parents of the world – I give you infinite respect just for making it through.

As a side note, I leave tomorrow for England in order to have plenty of time there for last-minute wedding stuff. It’s strange that for a year and a half I’ve had plenty of time before the wedding and saying to myself: Before you know it, it’ll be here and you’ll think ‘where did all that time go?!’ So it IS weird to now be so close and thinking, I knew it! Where in the world did that year and a half go?! You’d think that the predicting would take some of the effect out. But no.

During the next couple of weeks I will probably be able to blog a little, but if not, I promise to be back ASAP with photos! Two weeks from yesterday…Here we go!

I’m Not Supposed to be Here Right Now

I’m supposed to be in Zurich…

I would have arrived at 1am our time, taken a coma/nap and been back among the living for some hours now, thinking about dinner. Maybe I’d be at the grocery store across the street from our hotel, maybe I’d be sitting in the sun in the square behind it where there’s a market on Saturday mornings and a giant chessboard painted on the ground. Sometimes I like to watch the neighborhood’s old men gathered by the knee-high pieces, smoking and chatting while they try to trap each other’s queens. Yes, maybe that’s what I’d be doing; it was supposed to be nice today.

But I’m not there. I’m here at home, feeling guilty and poor because yesterday I missed my flight. I’m pretty particular about getting to places exactly on time, and now you know why. Because in my line of work, if you’re not there on time, you’re not there at all. Work leaves without you.

I don’t know what was going on. I left my house 5 hours prior to sign-in, as usual. I showed up for the 1am flight on another airline only to discover that on Saturdays – it doesn’t exist. Well, no sweat, I have many back-up flights. I try my company’s 1:30 – delayed an hour. I go back to the 1st company’s 2pm. I’m very relaxed (aside from the fact I’ve now gone in and out of security three times). Those company’s flights are never ever full, excepting for weather of course. And it was a plain old sleepy Saturday full of clear skies and sun. No drama expected. But the flight was full. I did not get on for the first time ever! I’m in shock but I go back and try that delayed 1:30 – full. Our 2:30 – full! Now I’m really sweating. That’s pretty much it.

You know that period of time where something bad happens and you keep thinking, Don’t panic. There’s gotta be some way out of this. There’s always a way out. This won’t really happen…? It’s because of that feeling that instead of calling work to say I wouldn’t be there and salvaging the day by visiting the Cherry Blossom Festival, I sat at the airport for another 1 1/2 hours in a desperate try for the other company’s 4:00 or our 4:10 – even though each would probably get me there 10 minutes after my departure anyway – and were oversold. Still, I waited and tried. No luck.

What was going on this plain old sunny sky Saturday? I have no freaking clue. There were a couple of other ladies who would also miss their work flight, except all they had to do was call NYC and have the manager make an announcement that their flight had become available. There are so many F/As desperate for hours to work that someone would take the shift and the DC ladies could just go home, only out some pay. But me? Well I am a French speaker. It doesn’t matter that the company probably called a non-speaker and sent him or her to Zurich in my place. They won’t let me give the trip to a non-speaker even though I’m in a bind. So because I offer the company an extra service, I’m the only one of all those missing work that’s in trouble. I get a penalty on my permanent record. (And a point towards being in serious trouble, combined with the sick calls I’ve made since returning in June because – hello! – I just had cancer and this job takes some physical adjustment yet I don’t qualify for excused absences until I’ve been back a year. It makes no sense, but that’s how it works.) Gah!

I did however go to a birthday party with my honey and, though I wasn’t in the mood, the host poured me glass after glass of champagne until I felt better. Still, I wonder who’s winning at chess.