Jill's Blog

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noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 02:15:00 +0000

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I Won!

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Sun, 18 Apr 2010 06:36:00 +0000

YUP. I was right. A good win (or three) definitely makes a difference. I'm happy- no, ecstatic- tonight. Just got home from the Mountain Town Stages benefit $287 lighter and two glasses of wine drunker. Great night. But my $10 in raffle tickets netted me $25 to El Chubasco, $10 to Granny's Drive-in, $5 to Kneaders. I won $500 in house painting for $125, $110 in dog poop removal for $47, $700 in headshots (includes makeup and stylist, 4 looks and 3 locations) for $80, and $267 in bike tuning, tanning, and 3-month membership to Park City Racquet Club for $25. Can you say "SCORE"??? Anyone want 5 tanning bed sessions? ;)
This evening simply capped off one of those killer Saturdays. Dropped Sage with a sitter, shared coffee and morning sex with Ryan at 10 a.m., picked up Sage and let her play in the bounce houses at Brighton for their end of season Beach Bash before cruising to the Benefit. Ah, the perfect spring weekend. Tomorrow we close out Park City Mountain Resort with Sage on the slopes and a spin on the Alpine Coaster before grazing the tailgaters in the First Time parking lot. You can count on them blossoming everywhere after noon. And so another season at Park City comes to a close.

Must Be That Time of Month

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 06:47:00 +0000

I need to win something. I always feel better when I win something. For some reason, all day today I've been grumpy; feeling like I'm a failure- ok, well that's too harsh. Just feeling unsatisfied and like I've messed up big time. You know how you would feel if you got a C and were hiding it from your parents? Or you found out that the super cute guy who acted like he liked you really doesn't even know your name? Sage is fine, my health is fine, I skied powder today and had great afternoon sex when I got back.
PMS! Trouble is, I haven't had my period in months thanks to the chemo and Tamoxifen. My doc says it'll come back but maybe not until I'm done with the drugs…IN FIVE YEARS. My body must be faking me out. Talk about lame. All of the symptoms without the relief. So I need to win something. It helps me feel fortunate, excited, alive. I've won all expense paid trips (the most memorable was a trip for two including airfare to Vail and the Teva Mountain Games. My trip to Boston for the Dating Game doesn't count cause the guy was icky), gear (backpacks, sleeping bags, sweaters, shoes, skis), a kayak, a car rack system, lift tickets, hotel stays. I've even won writing awards. Ryan jokes that I'm the luckiest person he knows. Sigh. So why can't I feel lucky? It's got to be hormones because - aside from completely missing my massage appointment today- I haven't done anything wrong; not even scoring a parking ticket. You know what the next best thing to winning something is? Sleeping!
Off I go now. Toodles.

Why Can't The Ski Day Start Later?

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 05:55:00 +0000

I should be kissing cotton- like an hour ago. Not only would it be good for my health but it would be awesome for my ski day. A full 7 hours' sleep AND the ability to get up at 7 a.m. for first tram? Now, that would be cool. For me, it's more like 5 hours of sleep and out of bed at 9:30 a.m.
There was a day last week that I got to Snowbird at 3:15 p.m. Yup, while everyone else was heading down the canyon, I was zipping up. Parked, booted up and got two memorable tram rides to close out the day. It had been snowing all day and FB updates rolled in about how deep it was. I couldn't leave home any sooner than 2:30 p.m. but I couldn't let the day pass without at least making one run. No regrets. That's my biggest mantra. Do everything you can so you don't look back to wonder 'what if'. I can honestly say that I don't regret any of the choices I have made in my life. Not driving all the way over to Little Cottonwood Canyon at the end of the day and not even dating the toxic, emotional vampires in the male lifeform.
Ok, I'll admit that I do regret staying with said nemeses past their expiration dates but, hey, the flipside is that I don't wonder 'what if' I had just worked harder? I gave each relationship my all. So there. With Ryan it's different. It's easy. Hope he feels the same. We spent two hours in my tub last night just talking. Candlelight, jets, bathsalts and a bottle of Two Buck Chuck. Ah the romance. The perfect end to the perfect powder day.
The Collins lot was packed but not the mazes. The angry winds threatened to blow us home. Should we? We wondered. Would it really be all that after everyone else had been skiing for the past two hours. It was 11 a.m. I called Alta from the car. "It's died down a lot from this morning," Matt said. All lifts running, fresh snow, what the hell? We beelined from Collins to Supreme which had been closed the day before when a electrical transformer blew.
Seven laps; laying down 11s you could spot from the chair after each run. We hiked Catherine's, did two in Spiney's, I even launched a little 5-footer off this rock into a puff of waist-deep. Surprised Ryan. Something just got in me to take the air. It was soft and joyous. By day's end the sun came out. Despite coating my face with Real Earth SPF 30 sunscreen, I cooked. Ryan, who had borrowed the sunscreen, also looked like a tomato. My first clue should have been the thin layer of white that never absorbed into his skin. The tube went immediately into the trash when I got home. My Smart Girls Who Surf After Lotion helped tons. Sunburn aside, the day was needed.
A powder day is always needed. Sage off with the sitter, just Ryan and me. Ending the day with the ultimate body buzz from the stress of your muscles firing with every neuron. I'm so digging my Head Jimi's. I didn't know if I could get used to a rockered ski but hoo boy I sure can. They scare me a bit. They are a breeze to turn from the tails (the backseat) and I don't want to be that skier. I want to ski centered, ankles and knees flexed, working from my core not my quads. It's no wonder these kinds of skis are so popular. You don't have to have the same skills you do on a traditional/non-rocker ski. It's almost cheating. The rocker tip and tail make the ski short and easy to spin-especially through the trees. Still, it'll be a Jimi day again tomorrow.
Another thing I'm psyched on is my Pistil Andina belt. I had to beg the company to send it to me. It won't be in stores until summer. I wanted it because it looked so cool. I had no idea that it would be the ideal ski belt. Made of some kind of cotton knit, it's soft, supple and pretty. No more droopy newschool skater pants! The only metal anywhere is the belt buckle but the distressed silver is a smooth concave oval that hugs your belly without jabbing it- even when your knees jerk up into your chest when you hit a mogul. Love the crocheted pattern of flowers and leaves in pastel and earth tones. The colors match just about everything in my ski closet.
I'm pooped finally. 1 a.m. with the alarm set for 7 to see how much snow has fallen on Alta and the Bird. I get to go to sleep with visions of snowflakes dancing in my head. Sweet dreams for you too!

A Gifting I Will Go

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 17:56:00 +0000

The first weekend of Sundance has ended and if you stick around past today, you'll be one of the few. Everything, and I mean everything happened between Thursday and Sunday. There will still be premieres and other films to watch throughout the week but almost all of the gifting and celeb sightings will wane after Monday. In the past, there was that push to spread the events and hubbub to last until Sundance close but with the economy, it's back to crushing it on opening weekend.

I made a mad dash, therefore, to start my product march. I walked into the crammed Sky Suite at the Sky Lodge near Main Street and immediately started mingling and eyeballing the products set aside for VIPs. It was the final day for them so a few of the Suite's sponsors were 'gifted out.' Not so for the Perky Jerky dude who insisted I try his caffeinated beef jerky and handed me packets of the mighty meat. At home, Ryan grabbed my can of AXE Twist and you'd think he never saw deodorant before. With the new twist-down cap, the top won't get lost in your gym bag. Wish they had given me antiperspirant too. Ryan will definitely need the AXE Twist shower gel they included in my bag.
See, not everything gifted at Sundance is targeted for the rich and elite. Just those that dig pampering. I could barely squeeze past all of the cliques of filmmakers and pretty women to speak with the EOS people. EOS (Evolution of Simplicity-www.evolutionofsmooth.com) is a line of natural, affordable skincare products that smell great (not too fruity) and feel silky. Plus, they come in smart packaging. The organic lip sphere is a cute little egg of lip balm made with antioxidant-rich vitamin E, shea butter, jojoba oil, SPF 15 but petrolatum and paraben free. The brand new hypoallergenic body lotion is due out on shelves this month.
All this schmoozing was making me parched. I could either belly up to the Eldridge bar from New York City where DJ Spider was spinning or throw back a cappuccino from Café Bustelo (http://cafebustelo.com/). The company was promoting a sinfully rich hot chocolate (made with milk not water) and single-serving cappuccino packets. Between the espresso and my Low-carb Monster drink, I moved into mission mode for the ultimate coup.
Former supermodel Rachel Hunter fawned all over pieces from Italian jewelry designer Rebecca (http://www.testiusa.com/) and they generously lavished her with a double-chain necklace and $500 chunky stone ring. The brand creates edgy, sexy pieces in stainless steel, bronze and semi-precious stones. After the reps were done snapping a slew of 'Rachel' shots, the host turned to me with a warm welcome as if I were just as cool as she was. See, not everyone at Sundance ignores you if you're not in a film! I walked with a gilded bronze pendant necklace with a pricetag hovering around $600. Gulp. The line is featured at J. Brooks at The Gateway and Fashion Plaza in Murray if you'd like some hands-on shopping of your own.
Just as I was starting to feel extra special, AMC Theaters provided the reality check. AMC gave VIPs a premiere pass for free movie-going at all AMC Theaters for the year. I got a box of Gummi Stars and Twizzlers. Guess it's a good thing for me that there are no AMC Theaters in Utah. Two other sponsors at the Sky Suite payed it forward by donating to Haiti. Premium LG Group got celebs to sign a limited edition Burton-Corona Snowboard to auction off with a partner charity site. Giiv, gave away gift cards for Global Giving where VIPS choose from about 15 Haitian relief efforts.
One of the coolest gifts and giving idea came from Blanket America (http://www.blanketamerica.com/). One side of the blanket features Obama's inaugural speech (where he mentions "our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness"), the other, a true old-school patchwork quilt of 13 different fabrics representing our original 13 colonies. For every Patchwork Heritage Quilt gifted at Sundance, Blanket America will give another to the needy. Blanket America aims to provide 1 million blankets to our country's neediest citizens this year.
How funny I must have looked trotting down Main Street carrying a quilted blanket as I weaved between hordes of people in black peacoats and impractical shoes. I had 10 minutes to get to the Tweet House before they shut down for good. I heard Hitachi's G-Technology was gifting harddrives. Now we're talking...
Twitter staked out Park City's The Shop yoga studio for their multi-tiered showcase of all things social and digital. This first "Tweet House" featured daytime panel discussions, product-gifting, evening special events and performances with live interactive video broadcasts from the "Tweet House," on Ustream.com. The warehouse space off of Park Avenue was bumping for 'happy hour' but the sponsor tables were still manned. I snagged a killer vintage-style cotton shirt from Cohesive (http://cohesiveapparel.com/) before scanning the room for G-Tech. Lots of media technology from sound systems to web interfaces lined the perimeter. It seemed out of place to find Lift Kits insoles. The shoe insoles add an inch of height where no one can see. But I suppose we can all find amusement as the 'bigger person'. Plus, I always wanted to be 5'7". Ah ha! I zeroed in. Erin fervently shook my hand and introduced me to the Macbook-compatible G Drive mobile 500 GB USB. The sleek, white porcelain box -just slightly bigger than an iTouch - matches the latest Apple notebooks. The rugged, portable drive comes out next month and offers super speedy storage, rendering and backup(on a 5400RPM 2.5-inch drive).
"The Sundance Film Festival is the largest U.S. gathering for independent cinema and is the perfect venue for our G-Technology products," said Hitachi Global Storage Technologies spokesman Mike Cordano. "We are pleased to help increase the vitality of independent film and filmmakers, and expand our reach within the film community."
Everyone sponsor I spoke with said the same thing. They welcomed Sundance as the springboard to exposing them to the world. Can't wait to dive back in tomorrow.

Where is the snow?

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 05:23:00 +0000

It's been long enough and enough people have asked how I'm doing that it's time to let you all know, I'm pregnant. KIDDING. The big, bigger, news is that my very last chemo is this Friday. That's it. Six down, no more to go! I'm more than halfway through radiation as well. In fact, if it weren't for my empty bank account and the rash over my left breast, you'd never know what I've been through. I have my hair and aside from having to drive to SLC daily for radiation, life is same ol' same ol'. Just this month, I've finished pieces for MSN.com, SkiResorts.com, Draft Magazine and my usual OnTheSnow resports, I've skied opening days at Snowbird, Alta (x2), Park City and Solitude, potty trained Sage (or maybe she just lets us think it was all me), painted my hallways and finally found a renter for one of my spots.
The end date for everything is Dec. 19. Talk about celebrating the New Year. You bet this is going to be one of the best holidays of my life. Hannukah's coming early to my house. :)
Some would point out that I was lucky but, to me, 'lucky' is not having canser at all (mispelled on purpose, that little fucker doesn't deserve to be spelled correctly). Having the 'the best' kind of canser? That's a consolation prize. Lucky that it wasn't worse, sure; but I seriously doubt that anyone would want to be me unless they also have canser.
Can I say that I "had canser" in 2010 instead of "have canser"? I wonder. I'm afraid to try it; like I'll jinx things and it'll come back. The docs assure me that I was 'canser free' after the lumpectomy in July and all of this poisoning is just a precaution. But I can't believe them. Once you get a canser diagnosis, your world changes forever. I didn't just get a tonsilectomy. I had someone dig through my chest then poisoned my cells every three weeks for nearly five months. Plus, I've always walked around with the philosophy of expecting the worst so you can never be disappointed. I thought that way all through college. When I got A's I was pleasantly surprised, psyched even; never disappointed. This does not mean that I am pessimistic. Not even close. I just choose not to get my hopes up until I have Tweetie in my hand.
So on my five-year canserversary, then I will breathe easy- and buy myself a brand new pair of boobs. :)
Now, if only it would start to snow, I could focus on something MUCH more important.
So how is everyone else doing?

BTW< I'm not pregnant and have no intention of sharing my love with any others outside of a pup, a boy and my Sage.

With Friends Like These......

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 07:54:00 +0000

Ok, gotta sleep. Leaving tomorrow for Escalante for some canyoneering in Egypt 2. I thought I had a friend coming with me but it looks like I'm flying solo. Beeatch sent me an EMAIL (after I had called several times and sent texts over the past two days) at 4 today saying she was sick, had been since Tuesday and wasn't feeling well enough to travel. Why don't I cut her slack? Because 1)I first spoke with her on Tuesday about going and she jumped all over it. Not once did she mention she was coming down with something, 2) I made the plans around her schedule, 3) I spoke with her Thursday and still no mention of illness; 4) she never contacted me between then and today despite my many attempts to reach her; 5) when I *67'd her tonight at 10:30, she answered, sounded just fine and there was a party going on in the background. When she heard my voice, she hung up without saying a word and 6) I immediately texted her about how lame that was and she never responded. Chicken shit.
Funny, she spent about a half an hour bitching about how one of her good friends told her he couldn't hang out with her 4yo anymore because she was too irritating. He stopped calling, bailed on plans they had, blah blah blah. She was extremely hurt and angry. You would think when something like that happens to you, you don't turn around and be a total turd to someone else.
God I hate my 'friends'. Another one bites the dust. Why can't people just say no in the first place and stop f*&king around with other people's valuable time and energy? I could have planned this trip for a different time and with different people. You don't bail on a roadtrip the day before you're supposed to leave. It's just completely uncool. I had a cold on Wednesday too but it's not stopping me from hitting Escalante on Sunday. If you're truly sick at the time someone calls and invites you somewhere you TELL THEM THAT so that they can plan accordingly. If you don't want to go, you say that immediately. YOU DO NOT WAIT UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE WHEN THERE'S ZERO TIME LEFT FOR THE OTHER PERSON TO FIND ANOTHER COMPANION. That's just plain obnoxious and grounds for a baseball bat to the head. Ugh. Ok, I'm going to sleep now. Toodles!!

Where the Wild Things Are- FILM REVIEW

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 06:19:00 +0000

Saw "Where The Wild Things Are" tonight. Sage loved it and actually sat in my lap the whole time without squirming. My little 3 year old is growing up! As cool as the scenery and the monster puppets were, though, there's not much to engage adults. The boy is a brat with no insight or chutzpah to communicate with the Things and help them understand how to get along and be happy. Max tries to order them around but he's often stumped and silenced when the Things call him out. Finally when he does confess that he's not a Viking King he has absolutely NOTHING to say for himself; no way to elonquently explain why it doesn't matter that he's not a real king. What impresses the most are the Things themselves. The actors (especially James Gandolfini) do a phenomenal job of bringing their beings to life-especially when the 1963 book never explores their characters. This film adaptation by Spike Jonz attempts to put some meat on the bones of a nine-sentence children's story about a neglected little boy who gets sent to his room without supper and finds himself in a far-off land where he finally gets to be the boss and the one showered with attention- even if it is by a bunch of large creatures who thump the ground and roar.
The monster-play in this movie script drags on and on and there's no cool moral that ought to hit your rugrats over the head with. Still, I did shed a tear when Max said good bye to the Wild Things. I hate good byes. If you've got little ones, take them to see it. They'll have nothing to fear.

Three Down; Three To Go

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 08:20:00 +0000

I'll make this one a shorty seeing as how it's five minutes to 2 a.m. and I have to get up at 7 a.m. to do this breast cancer strides walk. Hope talked me into it. I'm not one for getting up this early unless there are killer yard sales or there're two feet of fresh snow at the resorts. The mountains in Utah aren't open yet (that'll come in Nov.) and it's too cold for garage sales. I think it was guilt that motivates me. After Hope's piece on Fox13 (see link in my FB posts), I received a few emails calling me an 'inspiration'. Huh? I'm just doing what I'm told and trying to ignore the fact that I have a life-threatening disease. I finished round three of chemo a week ago and am just fine thank you! Halfway through treatment now. Was a tad queasy last Saturday but that had more to do with lack of sleep and then doing nothing but sit around the house all day. By Monday, I was climbing and jumping on my Stair Master. The past two days have been spent researching the possiblity of doing radiation concurrent with chemo instead of waiting until chemo was done before starting 6 weeks of radiation (which, btw, would mean really f*^king up Christmas and January). I figured since I was handling chemo so well, I could take the extra punch. None of the doctors in Utah seem to be up on this little time saver so I've had to Google like mad and contact cancer hospitals outside of the state. And here I thought the Huntsman Center was state of the art! After my research it seems that not only is CMF/radiation together viable but it may increase the longterm survival rate by 10 %. Plus, it keeps me from dragging my treatment into the next health insurance calendar year. Any sane person wouldn't think twice. The side effects? They tell me my boob might not look as nice. Anyone out there can attest or deny this claim?The stuff I've read so far says there's no difference in looks at the 3 year point. You might be wondering how the twins are holding up at this point. Still small and perky. You can barely tell I had surgery. The scar blends in and there's no divet from the chunk of tumor they removed. Thank you, Dr. Neumeyer! Ryan can even squeeze them now and there's no pain or difference in touch between left and right. If it weren't for my head I could be 'normal' again. My head though constantly takes me on walks where I wonder if there will ever be a time in the future that I can say to someone, "I had cancer" instead of "I have cancer". It's a strange thing to feel like this disease will stick with you longer than family.

Getting Interviewed for Fox 13

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:17:00 +0000

Ok, so now I'm a posterchild for Fox 13?? My friend Hope decided that since I'm the only person she knows with breast cancer, I should talk on camera. Hmmm. It took a while for me to say OK. Not because I don't think I have a worthy story but I wasn't sure if I wanted my agent, my 'outside' friends, those who don't know me but will, to know. Cancer is an extremely inconvenient disease. It may not be debilitating at the moment for me but it interrupts my life flow. It turns what was once easy (humming along day to day) into something difficult and it pisses me off. I really don't want to come across as bitter, angry, spoiled or negative. Hope said I was great. A great interview. Of course I was. Broadcast is my thing. It's the message I worry about. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. The piece is set to air before the Cancer Walk on Oct. 9.
As for the rest of my life. Peace has resumed. I'm back from San Diego which turned out to be much less of a vacation than I had hoped. Sage was like the fricking Energizer Bunny and I had no one to hand her off to. It was all me. No daycare, no sitter, no friends. My parents just shook their heads and turned away. That doesn't mean I was disappointed in them. Hell, if I was in a room where a kid was acting like Sage, I would love to walk away. It's just that I couldn't and she wore me down. Which in turn stressed me out because damn it I'm supposed to be doing what I can to get better. Stress does the opposite.
I also made the terrible error in judgment thinking that it would be fun to share a room with my daughter. Next time, she goes someplace else. At least then I will get enough sleep to handle the stress of the day.
I came home to some killer fall Park City weather. It's 83 outside with a cool breeze and vibrantly blue skies at 5:45 p.m. I lifted today and tomorrow I'll try to hike or climb. Best to enjoy the weather before it gets rainy and muddy.

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 18:13:00 +0000

In between debugging my turtle of a laptop (thanks, Vista), I find myself constantly combing through stories of celebrity cancers. Are they dead? What did they have? What stage was it? Was it something complicated? Could it be me next? I can't help myself. It's like watching a trainwreck; sometimes I'm the trainwreck itself. Last year, it would barely be a blip on my radar. This year it means something.
Patrick Swayze gone. The news stimulates the hunt for answers. If it weren't for the obnoxious hematoma/bruise left in the crook of my arm by Nurse Ratchett in the Hunstman Infusion Room, I wouldn't know I have just had my second round of chemo. So I have to keep comparing my 'story' with others'.
The only side effects I had from the first round was hurling Chinese food the night after doing Eskimo rolls at the Ogden Paddle Fest; and the runs one day about a week later. Hair, check. Period, check. Energy, check. Pain free, check. Appetite, check. In fact, I'm stronger than I've been in months thanks to Patrick, my Huntsman personal trainer twice a week. It was actually pretty fricking cool that I had three weeks of no doctors' appointments and no tests for the first time in two months. It was almost like the scare was gone. I did the next round of chemo last Friday and suffered even less. I actually sent emails to my oncology doctor wondering if he was dosing me with a placebo or something. I couldn't believe that I had no dramatic reaction.
Just to prove I wasn't hallucinating, came Round 2. Talk about "pinch me I must be dreaming."
The stint in the arctic Utah Olympic Pool the day before sucked the buoyancy out of my veins. Even after warm wraps, three liters of water and a Lorzapan, nothing. They couldn't find a vein in my right arm anywhere. So they called in the big guns- a grey-haired grandma that yelled "stop it" as she unsympathetically shoved a needle into my arm prompting a terrifying cry to escape my lips. I bit them and the tears developed. The pain didn't end as she continued to shove. "Don't", "Stop it," she said again sharply and sternly. Apparently screaming as you are tortured like a drug smuggler in Turkey will freak out the other guests of Chateau Chemo. Suzanne Sommers blames the chemo treatment for Patrick Swayze's death not his pancreatic cancer. Chemo can cause all sorts of nasty side effects like stroke and leukemia.
My T-Cell count was low on the day of chemo. I was sent back to Huntsman for a Neulasta shot on Sunday. That's to stimulate your long bones like a femur to produce more white cells. Scary. I feel fine but I could still wind up in the hospital with a deadly infection faster than you can whip up a PB&J. They told me that because the count is low to avoid contact with ANYONE- including Sage and Ryan- until I get my shot. And here I am going to a Pig Roast outdoors with a bunch of snot-dripping toddlers who are drinking from Sage's sippy cup and falling on her in the trampoline. One guy there tried to talk me into a drag on his joint as if his next paycheck depended on it. Of course, I said no. Ryan on the other hand, seized the moment. The next day he complains of achiness all over and chills. So I sleep in my office for the next two nights to avoid catching something. I got the shot that morning on my way to the climbing gym. They warned me of deep bone pain as my marrow regenerated TCells. Never happened. Another placebo?? I did feel quite blah on Monday but chalked it up to PMS and the Park City rain. Today, I'm up at 7 a.m. and off to Legoland or Harbor Days in San Diego.
I know I'm not playing some character in a movie where everything is a prop and I can go home at night to a reality that existed before the diagnosis but I can't help wondering whether everything I'm going through is really working when I feel fine. Silly, I know. I should be thankful that not a soul can tell I have cancer; not even me. I shouldn't need to get rushed to the hospital to know I'm taking care of myself. That's just wrong.

P.S. Anyone who tries to tell you how they would want to be treated if they had cancer is full of shit. You don't know until you actually have cancer.

Cancer is unlike any injury, illness, tragedy you will ever have in your life. It hasn't made me a "better person" - I can still be a big bitch - but it's made me part of a tribe. I have a deeper understanding of what my brethren go through and a huge irritation for those who assume to know.

Thanks to my friends for dropping food at my door and taking Sage for a couple of hours on some days. That truly helps!

One Session Down, Five More To Go

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 17:37:00 +0000

It's midnight and I'm scratching my head. I must have missed something right? I know that movies and the WE Channel often exaggerate but after three hours of chemo at Hunstman today the only thing I feel is relieved and suspicious; also a bit anxious because I know CMF can’t be this innocuous. That’s what Dr. Ward prescribed. A cocktail of cyclophosphamide, methotrexate and fluorouracil, which is also known as 5FU (my dad said that one used to be used to grow hair!). Ward choose this path because of the less severe side effects- a strong chance of hair thinning but not falling out, no neuropathy (loss of feeling in toes and fingers which can be permanent in some people), less nausea, no bone pain. Like a walk in the park, right? Both Ward and his assistant Rosie reassured me that given my age, physical conditioning and vitals, I was going to be one of the lucky ones who sailed through this pricky business. I can’t be easily convinced, however, especially not after meeting with 12 women at the Image Reborn cancer retreat who hosted a little show and tell of chemo horror. You would have had to physically walk over and lift my jaw off the floor to get me to shut my mouth. But what can you do? You go in with all of the ‘what ifs’, hope they won’t come true and you jump in. I wanted to get in the race. For three weeks now I’ve had thoughts of ‘treatment’ keeping me up at night. I thought after last week, my labs, my appointment for today, that I was all set.....until I wound up with bronchitis. Sage is sick too and Ryan’s coming down with it. Of course they would postpone my treatment. No such (bad?) luck! We were still a go. They made the call because I didn’t have a fever or chills and was seemingly on the mend. We’ll see what happens now. Nausea and anti-nausea prescriptions in one hand, turkey sandwich and fries in the other, I marched down to the infusion room. I couldn’t have asked for a better seat than the forest green leather Lazy Boy, Chair 10. Tucked back in the corner, I was away from the other chemo patients and their small talk, close to the toilet and the snacks with a closeup view of the construction going on outside the hospital (better than having to face the nurses station for three hours). Nurse KOD (seriously, because there are three Karen’s on deck) gently stroked my right hand and told me how much she was going to like my vein. Interview With a Vampire briefly skipping through my brain. She told it was perfect for the IVs, should go the six session distance (every three weeks) without imploding and safe bet I wouldn't need a chest port for the infusion. A port is a thin plastic tube which is inserted under the skin into a vein near the collarbone (central line) to feed the drugs straight to your heart. Cancer patients love their ports because there’s less vein poking and pain at each session. But with three weeks in between each dosing I’d rather take the needle than have a baby carrot sized scar on my chest. At this point, I insisted on an Antivan- anti-anxiety chewable to relieve dizziness a strong possibility for me when I’m jammed with a needle for an extended period of time. After the initial ah ah ah crescendo that turned a few heads, the needle was in and I felt nothing more. First drip the anti-illness drugs; then the 5FU which can cause cotton mouth and cold sores. (I’m directed to suck on ice chips to hibernate my mouth and make it less susceptible.) Next, methotrexate which will turn my pee yellow (how about purple? I ask, that would be more interesting.) I’m told to flush twice after every potty break to keep any of these toxic secretions from jumping onto skin. Even Ryan must wear a condom or wash immediately after sex. He asked me if I minded him visiting a hooker. I also have to be super duper careful about catching even a tiny cold so I told him hookers will have to wait until after chemo. My white cells will go down and down and down the further into treatment. Not a good time to get sick. I worry about this the most because I get colds easier than catching infield flies. Cyclophosphamide (Cytoxan) came last. Ths one seems to be the biggest Pac Man of blood cells- good and bad- and the one that leaves you most at risk for leukemia, bladder cancer and menopause. Oh joy. I’m supposed to feel the effects in 7-10 days. This is worse than waiting for BAR results! The whole process today wasn’t the least bit scary. There were so many nurses and aides talking at me, I never had a moment to fear. Then Ryan popped in after work to sit with me. He also got the crash course on chemo. My mom Skyped in and I showed her around the room, my IV and Ryan waved hello. Two hours later I was done. I walked out, perfectly capable of driving home (but I didn’t have to). We picked up Sage, went out to dinner then hung out and watched TV- nothing special really. After we got the girl in bed, we talked for a bit about other people, the stock market, needing to clean the house but nothing about today and what we went through. I guess it’s best to internalize for a while. Just take it all in and let it settle. Today was a big deal. On the outside, it didn’t seem anything more than routine and on the inside I don’t feel these drugs killing my little guys yet. But it was a big deal. I’m “in treatment”, I’m “undergoing chemo”, I’m “surviving”. That’s all heavy shit. That’s not what my life is set up to process. Drama yes, heavy shit no. I’m heading off to dream land now before I get weepy but not without nausea meds by the bedside just in case. At the same time, hurling that 10-pound burrito from Loco Lizard tonight might not be such a bad idea….. Some of my friends are figuring out ways to handle this too. The one in the earlier blog who ate my food instead of bringing me some decided to distance herself rather than step up. A friend in need is a friend to weed I guess. Ryan’s folks sent a daisy bouquet mixed in with lemons (ie referencing lemonade when life hands you lemons very cute.) Another friend has offered to stuff my freezer with homemade ziti. I’m thinking right around that Day 7 is perfect. And many many thanks to my ski buddy Louie who rearranged his schedule this morning to drive me to Huntsman. I’m not usually in the habit of asking for big favors that require more than a phone call so I honestly appreciate the effort everyone makes in whatever way they can. Now if I only knew someone who loved to do laundry.....:)

Welcome to Book Passage!

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 21:29:00 +0000

Ok, so now I have a bunch of strangers, checking out my site on an projection screen. Hi, Everyone!
It's part of my journey on Book Passage- a Travel Writer's Conference. I barely hit my flight yesterday morning and, with heart pounding, I shot down the long, enclosed runway for the puddlejumper to Oakland. Today, I'm rested, fed and my ass' still sore. But I'm ready to be a better writer. Back to back sessions delve into the travel writing experience and bringing readers along; the plight between travel essays and travel articles; marketing yourself and your website ... or not. Stay tuned because after everyone looks at this I can guarantee that it will not be the same in the months to come!
No, no, don't worry. I'm not morphing into a different person, less edgy. less entertaining. I'll still be irreverent. I'm just updating the site and its use.

When A Friend Has Cancer

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 06:39:00 +0000

At the Image Reborn cancer retreat I attended this weekend in Deer Valley, one of the ladies passed around a sheet and asked us to write down five things that impressed us about our friends and family and five things that didn't help at all during this time. I flipped to the later section immediately. I couldn't help it.

After my diagnosis last month, I did have a handful of touching, warm fuzzies:
Right after my diagnosis, my sister sent a beaded bracelet and Green Goddess medallion blessed by the Dalai Lama (?), a t-shirt to wear during recovery and a mantra to chill out with. Some people really surprise you.

But what you remember more are the negative instances. Like Dr. Phil's quote "It takes a thousand 'atta boys' to make up for one 'you're no good'; it takes 10 well-placed gestures to make up for one lame one.

You're in the midst of the worst reality you could imagine (unless you or one of your family members has been kidnapped and tortured) and when you call the troops to rally, you expect them to, well, rally. You remember those who don't. Sad but true.

When I asked my best friend for a ride to the hospital for surgery, she picked me up then pulled over minutes after getting on the freeway to ask if I could drive because she was too tired. So technically, I drove myself to the hospital.. in her car. When we got to the hospital she sat with me for 10 minutes then looked at her watch and said she had to go and left.

For the two hours between when my friend left and the parents arrived, I was alone and very anxious in a sterile, uninviting examining room. The next day, flowers (the only flowers I got from someone other than Ryan) arrived from a friend from Washington I hadn't seen in years. Though we speak every week, by email or phone, I didn't expect it. When Ryan walked into my bedroom carrying the bright blooms, I felt her hand reach out and gently touch my shoulder. "You'll get through this." I cried. I was pissed that my other 'best' friend couldn't surprise me like that.

I know that everyone has their side and their own drama to attend to in life but when a friend is dealing with something like cancer on the day of their surgery, you drink a cup of coffee and put your shit on hold for two hours. On the flipside, my parents cancelled their trip to Canada, got in a car and drove 12 hours to be by my side as they wheeled me off- and then as they wheeled me back. That still brings up tears.

You can't just say, "Let me know if there's anything I can do." You have to actually do something. Otherwise, it's cliche. In addition, we can't think of anything you can do for us when the phrase is first spoken; second, we know it's just something you say, like, "Hi, how's it going?" or "Bless you" after a sneeze so we don't put much stock in the offer.

The heart of the person who asked is well-placed but most patients are not going to take you up on a generic offer like that. Plus, if you do call later to ask for something, it's not the right time, they're too busy, they have to work, the car's in the shop, they need to sleep or Seinfeld is on.

I can't tell you how many people I called to see if they could go with me to my first doctor's consultation before Ryan took the time off work to be there. No one eagerly assumed a position by my side. I was going to go alone but the doctors told me I definitely needed to bring someone because I would be too overwhelmed to think of every question that needed asking or to remember what was said by the doctors. Ryan stepped up.

I'm not a victim and I rarely ask for help (primarily because I'm afraid of exactly this kind of thing). I take care of myself. Even Ryan wonders what he can ever do for me. But now I feel like I have an excuse to expect some handholding, cuddling, comfort, flowers, and extra effort. Don't I?

The night after my lumpectomy a friend came over with her boyfriend, swept in, exclaimed that they were starving, picked through my refrigerator, made themselves sandwiches, dropped the dishes in the sink and left. I actually thought she was coming to see how I was doing! Didn't realize I was a convenience store. They gave me a brief hug goodbye and left. No more than 20 minutes. Am I that much of a rock that my friends think this all would be cool with me??
To be fair, it was already a bit chaotic at my house the day after surgery since another friend of mine had shown up with her daughter for a playdate with Sage. It's was my bad first off. I own that. I had no idea what surgery entailed as I had never had it. So when my friend asked to come visit post knife, I said, sure, and bring your daughter. We'll drink some wine, watch a movie, the kids will play.... My parents thought I was nuts but I thought I was strong enough to handle it.
I had assumed that it would be a quiet time. Nope. Her 5yo refused to play with Sage and kept coming into the living room; Sage cried, the daughter fussed, all night long. Ryan brought food home for everyone and they slept over - less than 24 hours after surgery.

Ryan told me later that he wanted to ask her to leave but he was afraid to offend us. I wouldn't have minded really. But I would have felt horrible too. The whole thing was my idea in the first place. I just didn't know. I wish she had picked up that we need a break. I spent the entire next day in bed recovering.

I'm sure my friends have no idea I'm disappointed and saddened. They would see their 'efforts' as a grand gesture and my criticism as petty. Maybe. I just have a hard time thinking that it's not all Lifetime Movie for other women when they have this diagnosis and I'm jealous of the support they have.

If friends truly do want to help, here's my advice: Make specific offers- like scheduling a day to go to a radiation treatment, or take your friend's child for the hour they're getting it done or feeling low, or bring them food instead of eating theirs. Force her to go on a hike or climb a couple of routes so they don't get fat and lazy, take her for a pedicure, read trashy People articles to her. Don't make her feel like she's ruining your day. Bring a new pillow to prop her up on her weaker days. And, most importantly, if you do make a commitment, don't blow it off.

Here's a great example of stepping up: At my retreat some of the girls said they were in so much pain that the only thing that helped was something you smoke. Yet because they couldn't bring it on the plane, they didn't have any. I called my friend. How much? 'It's on us. I'm glad to be able to help.' The collective gratitude from the group was intense. You could tell it was appreciated just by the catcalls as several Rubenesque women ran naked under the full moon at the Deer Valley retreat house.

Share simple pleasures like a chickflick, a cup of coffee, gossip. Don't talk about medical issues unless she wants to and never ever talk about other people's cancer horror stories (we've gone over that one).

Your friend is still the same person she was before cancer, she just needs you to be present a little more, both in spirit and body. She needs you to be what friends are supposed to be.

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend.- Albert Camus

Kristen Gets Hitched

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 18:48:00 +0000

My friend and favorite bachelorette finally threw down and got married. After 3 (?) engagements, she strutted her stuff to her man and said, "I do." Oh, the wedding was an odd one. Determined not to do it by the book (she never has in the past; why start now?), it began with Kristen sitting in the bathroom as the makeup 'artist' painted red flowers on the side of her eye. Her voice trembled, "I can't believe this is all for me!" You're kidding, right? The funny thing was Kristen in that moment actually believed that she was never treated like a princess before. If it were anyone else, I might have been laughing. Kristen's WHOLE life is all about her and she has had soooo many experiences of people taking their bows at her feet. It would have been the phoniest comment but Kristen is the ultimate actress- she believes her sh*t. She can be anyone else she wants whenever she wants and today she was the proverbial bride - in black, red and patent leather.

The setting was gorgeous. Someone's private home in Park City overlooking the surrounding resorts. The Brazilian drums beat and the groom, then bride, shimmied through the crowd dressed in freakish Halloween-meets-red light-district attire. Their friend Melissa read "The Naked Poem" like we were at a poetry slam, the Rabbi went on and on about something that really made no sense - even referenced Jesus!- then called the high priestess, angel, high queen...ME to start the series of blessings. I skipped up to the front, joked and got anecdotal, read a short 'blessing' which was more of toast for the happy couple of the hour and finished by wishing them lots and lots of sex. Made the crowd laugh. ;) Six others came forward with blessings of varying lengths. After, DJ Steve played from what they called the Jellyfish, poledancers did the garter dance, and, later, people gathered round for the firedancers and hula hoopers. The cops showed up around 1 a.m. and sent the burners (Burning Man fans) off to Summerween and the rest of us home.
My only complaint was the food. It was like I was at a Mormon wedding (even though they're not Mormon). Nuts, cheese, crackers, fruit and wilting shrimp
cocktail; tiny (homemade) cupcakes for dessert. I brought a bag of Tater Tots and passed them around pre-ceremony and became everyone's best friend. I actually met one man who had never had a Tot! He ate three. I devirginized him. :) To be honest, we were warned there would be no food but that's my favorite part of a wedding. I'd much rather eat than drink. I guess you can't blame Kristen. With somewhere between 100-200 people attending, it saves a whole lot of money serving nuts instead of chicken.
The whiskey ran out within an hour, but there was plenty of beer, wine and vodka with fruit juice or Red Bull. On my empty stomach, I got hammered and wound up being one of the last to leave. All in all it was a fun party but surreal as a wedding.

What Not To Say To Someone With Cancer

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 06:19:00 +0000

Will everyone PLEASE chill on the cancer horror stories?? I'm a bit tired now tonight. Didn't sleep very well last night (4 hrs), spent all day at the Outdoor Retailer show, strolling along the aisles forgetting my life has changed forever and now I've had the shittiest evening of all time.
I took Sage up to Kamas for a kiddie pool party my friend was throwing. Over cake, she thought she was helping by introducing me to a woman who had grade 1 breast cancer like me. Except that after treatment and a clean diagnosis/prognosis from her dr, she got the same in the other breast and now has jaw cancer. Which means she's probably going to die sooner rather than later according to the radiology oncologist I spoke with last Thursday. Then, my friend described another friend of hers who died of brain cancer at 29 and another who has it presently, and finished by telling me her aunt died of lung cancer despite never smoking. As my friend Kristen put it, "What the hell was that woman thinking?!"
I got home, curled up in a ball in the corner of my closet and sobbed. This is not helpful nor what I need to hear right now!
I was doing fairly well for the last few days. Today, not so much. What I need right now is a good therapist, 100 other stories of how women like me live the same life span as those who never had cancer and a 2-hr pedicure/massage. Not conversations with women who can't get ahead of the eight ball or who die. I'm scared enough as it is, dammit. So please, make something up or at least save those dire tales for those outside of earshot. Thank you. :)

Ta Dah!

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 05:53:00 +0000

All's well so far. Took the bandages off this morning. My mom acted very pleased and impressed with the job my surgeon did. I'm sure considering the circumstances there was no way I was going to look much better. But I looked down and saw this divot on the side of my breast that made me want to cry. I actually did when I stepped into the shower and no one could see or hear me. That's how reality hits you. Alone, in the shower, as you look at the aftermath of this disease. In an attempt to cheer me up my dad commented that my boobs never looked that great in the first place. Gee, thanks dad. He was kidding of course but tough love ain't always well placed. Boo hoo.
It did look a little better when I toweled off and, in a bra and shirt, you can see nothing different. From head on you can't even tell I had a piece of me scraped out. Only when you look down, over my shoulder. The skin fold is a bit more prominent. You can also see the crescent incision around part of my areola. I'm told that will heal to near invisibility.
When I undressed tonight I noticed that the swelling had gone down a little and the dent was less noticeable. I'm adjusting. Plus, it's way better than nothing - literally - considering a mastectomy was on the table last week.

Just got back from a dinner at Deer Valley for MountainHardwear media to kick off the OR show. At the top of the Wasatch lift in Cushing's Cabin, we dined on caprese and tofu salads and tons of roughage. Since I vowed to overhaul my diet, this is a great start. I haven't had a single French fry in 48 hours!
I made it through three hours of socializing and the boob's not bothering me yet. My parents are slightly pissed. They think I'm not taking care of myself. But laying in bed 24/7 just isn't me. Part of my recovery is getting back to business; doing dinner tonight and meeting with my peers was medicine too. I did, however, back out of the 10 mile hike they had scheduled at 6am tomorrow morning. That might have been overkill.
I opted for a shorter walk then meeting up with everyone for lunch at noon. I feel a tad guilty for not being more of an invalid. My parents drove all the way out here from San Diego to help me for the week but there's not much to do anymore. I'm up and about trying to work and arranging meetings.
I'm (almost) as good as new. I'm missing part of my boob and I can't lift anything with my left arm but other than that I can deal. Emotionally, I'll have bouts but you can't schedule those. My mom has been fantastic in the morale department while I was healing but now I'm getting lectured about taking care of myself. I feel like I'm back in high school where I have to hide what I'm doing or what I plan to do so I "don't get in trouble". I really don't want to lie in bed all week. I want to get back to my life.
What life will that be now? I can almost black out what the last two weeks brought. But then I look down or move too quickly and I'm reminded of their gravity. My life has definitely changed. I'm different. I'm not like everyone else, and not in a special way. In a way that causes awkward silence or thoughtful stares or false sympathy. I can't even say I'm a cancer survivor because it's not necessarily gone yet.
Soon, two or three weeks, I'll be radiating the crap out of it and then, maybe, I'll be a survivor.

I popped two lortab tonight to sleep well. Drifting off as I type.....

Surgery set for today.....

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 08:28:00 +0000

"This was kind of fun," said the medical radiologist as he shook my hand goodbye. "I know it sounds bad to say and I don't think I've ever said this, but it's been kind of fun." I entertained him. The man who basically told me that if my cancer comes back, I will die, left happy. Well, that makes one of us. I had just spent three hours hearing what the doctors involved in my case thought and recommended; answering my unending questions about cancer, the prognosis, the protocol, the aftereffects and so on. I guess not every victim er patient is as charming and spirited as I am.
The concensus? Lumpectomy and radiation; bilateral mastectomy (with implants) later if I'm positive for the breast cancer gene. Surgery is tomorrow. I'm impressed by how thorough this process is. From the start it's like they've done this before or something. ;) One in 7 women will develop breast cancer and, depending on the severity (stage) and the treatment you go through, there's about a 15% chance of it coming back. If it comes back in some part other than the breast, you die in three years. At least that's what the oncologist sentenced. Gulp.
The other physicians and nurses say he was just trying to make a point. His job is to get everything the first time around and not mess around with trying to spare your feelings, your skin or your initial physical suffering. For those who couldn't face losing a breast or doing radiation for cosmetic reasons, take note. The end result of all this is that I take the knife to boob tomorrow afternoon. 1:30pm to be exact. They will cut out the tumor (2cm, Grade 1), send it to the lab for biopsy, test my lymphnodes for spreading and possibly remove any infected ones, then sew me up. I go home that evening and back to normal in a day or two....except that it's not like a normal surgery.
It's not the end of a problem but the beginning. In two weeks, I will have 30 days of radiation to make double sure there're no cancer cells left in the breast AND maybe 4-6 MONTHS of chemo if those little bastards have spread to the nodes. Chemo's the thing that kills everything- your hair, your nails, your chance for more kids. It also causes nausea and vomiting. Yep, it's bad. But it also kills the poison that could kill you, the docs say to make you feel better. So how did this happen? I asked a cancer nurse if there was something I did that caused the cancer. She said, "You're a woman." Wasn't bleeding once a month for all of your adult life punishment enough??
I wouldn't wish this on anybody but at the same time, I would never volunteer to be that one in seven. It really does suck and you have no idea how to deal with all of this information. It's not supposed to happen to me, I think to myself.
The post followup mammogram revealed a Grade 1 well-differentiated invasive ductile cancer. A lump in the upper left outer quadrant of my chest. At that point I could feel the lump- because I knew where to look; it's about the size of a hot tamale jelly bean. I am a bit calmer compared to last week. I suppose thinking about it all weekend, Googling and talking to docs prepped me for today. I'm sure I'll be a waste case once the path report comes back. All I can handle is the lump removal. Everything else is surreal. Mastectomy might be my only option if the genetic test for that breast cancer gene is positive. It also means I'm a candidate for ovarian cancer. This is all happening soooo fast. One day, I'm doing my annual exam, the next I'm possibly losing two breasts and two ovaries. I can't stop thinking about everything I have going on this month- OR and Ryan's parents coming to town on the 30th. We're supposed to go to Jackson. Now's not convenient for cancer.
Ryan's family knows and they're incredibly supportive. It kills me that I'm putting everyone through this storm. The burden is hard enough for me to bear. No one else should have to deal with it.

Finally the guts to share this with everyone....

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 06:07:00 +0000

I woke up this morning thinking- wishing - yesterday was just one big nightmare and not real. That I could go about my day as if the bomb had never been dropped.
I have breast cancer.
Well, at least that's what the radiologist seems to gravely think after surveying my follow-up mammogram and ultrasound. 'It doesn't look good, I'm afraid' he said. Oh yeah- he kept saying he was sorry- like he had bumped my cafeteria tray or something. Your instinct is to say 'that's ok' but I held my tongue ... because it's NOT OKAY! And now it's the god damn fourth of July weekend and doctors have all decided that medical issues can wait.
I have an appt wed. with a general surgeon that may or may not take my insurance so I'm not sure if I have a 'next step' yet, even though I need one. I guess I could just pay for the office visit and find another doctor to do the surgery after Dr. Neumayer makes a diagnosis but then it would be like getting a second opinion and all of this is about time. Get this thing out. We don't yet know what stage it is, whether it's spread to lymph nodes and would require radiation or chemo or both. The consensus for sure is that a lumpectomy is in order.
I figure since I was planning on a boob job eventually, that they might as well lop the whole thing off and something good can come from tragedy. Yes, tragedy. That's how I feel. I always thought that if someone told me I had cancer I would fight like hell (which I will) and have that fiercely positive attitude to carry me through it. How the hell are people positive? I've been crying at the drop of a hat since before the doc actually broke the news. I didn't cry myself to sleep because I was drunk and passed out, but this morning the tears turned back on. This isn't me- this teary chick. And that hurts even more- to feel so doomed.
The thing that scares me the most in this whole world - death- is sitting on my shoulder. I go get this biopsy, they tell me it's spread, that I need chemo, the hair falls out, I'm sick and tired all the time, my organs stop functioning and I die. That's not how I saw the rest of my life the day I met the radiologist.
I'm supposed to be holding Sage on my shoulders at the fair, dancing with her at her birthday parties, taking her skiing in Europe, hugging her at her graduation and telling her how gorgeous she looks on her wedding day. I'm supposed to be arcing at Alta when I'm 80! Not gone. Not someone's memory. I don't want people to be sorry for me. I wanted them to be envious.
Could this all just be a scare? They take a lump out like people have cysts removed all the time? But the radiologist with his somber countenance and heavy tone crushed that hope. Ryan cried too yesterday. He heard it as well. Stef talked with us after and he said that made him feel a little better. Like we had a plan and it wasn't all death and roses. He's really in this with me. I hate myself for bringing him all of this 'life'. If he dated someone his own age, he wouldn't need to experience all of this. Poor guy.
I keep going through my head - was it the junk food I eat, the coffee (but over the year it doesn't begin to total what the average - healthy- person drinks), karma? But I never killed anyone.
I've always been a lucky person. Does that mean I will also be lucky here or that my luck's run out?

Thoughts on Writing

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 02:39:00 +0000

I just can't do it. I wake up and still feel tired. I can't motivate to write. I can't do much more than surf the web. I hit the sack and seem to fall fast asleep but in the morning it's like I never slept. Is this depression? But I don't feel depressed. I do feel like I'm coming down with something. Two weeks of rain doesn't help either. Luckily I find bits of joy that spike sunrays straight to my heart. Sage's squeals and laughter, and this little comic strip I came across when we went over to Park CIty Bread and Bagels for bagels last week. To all of my writer and editor friends, I know you'll get a kick out of this one:

We're Not So Much Alike All The Time

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Sun, 31 May 2009 22:42:00 +0000

There's something uplifting about a doctor telling you your skin's still youthful as he's checking you out for skin cancer. You gotta think that of all the people that would deal you the brutal truth it would someone at the Huntsman Cancer Institute. But instead of shaking his head at my teen years of stupidity, and telling me I've aged like Robert Redford, he actually sounded impressed. The way he said it gave me the warm fuzzies. I thought about asking him to guess my age had he not seen my chart (and compared to other women he has seen) but I didn't want to push my luck. Besides, I wasn't here for vanity. I was here for sanity. Despite the scariness, I take advantage of Huntsman's once a year free skin cancer checks. My family has a history of melanoma. So far so good for me, but I can't ignore the damage I did before I was even 20. Basking at Malibu with nothing for protection but a string bikini; the only concern in the sun was when the bottle of baby oil got low. One time, I fell asleep and sunburt my eyelids shut! My whole front was so bad, my dad dunked me in a cold bath of white vinegar to neutralize the burn. I stank for a month and to this day, the smell of vinegar turns my stomach. You got it, can't stand Caesar salad. I don't remember my mom ever discussing SPF or sunscreen with me. In fact, I seem to recall she was the one who bought my baby oil. If only I knew then….. On me, tanning is a waste of time anyway. I could nurture a golden brown all summer but the minute I stepped out of the sun, it would begin to fade. By Back to School, it was gone. Kids these days are lucky. They have 'Fake Bake' and Mist on Tans. I tried both during the Sundance Film Fest at Conair's gifting lounge. I swear I got home and Ryan accused me of cheating on him. I had a sweet dark tan and a beautiful new hairdo from a celebrity stylist that was working the Conair room. The tan lasted about two weeks (the hair, eight. Thanks, Marcus!). Given my financial status I don't see me going to a salon on a regular basis to look brown instead of white but the tube of Sunless and Skinny (by Fake Bake) does the trick in a pinch. No way am I letting Sage outdoors without sunscreen. It's so cute right now because she actually asks for it before we get out of the car. She even likes to put it on herself. Ryan is the problem. At 29, he continues to worship the sun. I can speak out my a*^ and he will still skip the sunscreen, use 'tan' and 'healthy' in the same sentence and get on my case for being "white". No amount of statistics, reports or real life stories will smarten him up. Yes, my boyfriend is an idiot on certain levels. I can only hope he keeps his opinions to himself around Sage. While we're on it, he has the same basic attitude about marijuana. Ok, you can close your jaw. He even joked that his teenage cousin who's selling pot to his friends at school ought to move to California and get a license to deal medical marijuana so can't get arrested. Um, I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure there's not a state in this country that allows a 15-year-old to sell pot- legal or otherwise. Talk about setting an example. However, I can't tell you how many of my friends are married to guys that still smoke pot- 30s, 40s, 50s. And they ain't got cancer. Not yet anyway. Ryan stopped smoking around the time we started dating because it's not my thing. But his attitude about it not being bad or addicting or toxic hasn't changed. Yes, it's a hot button topic. I don't necessarily diss people who smoke; many of my friends puff in the trees at various Utah resorts but I won't date them. Anyone who needs a substance (illegal or otherwise) on a regular basis to 'take the edge off' is an emotional retard. Relationships are hard. Ryan's argument is that it's not as bad as cigarettes or alcohol. I don't date drunks or smokers either. Again, I worry that his opinions will sway Sage they way they have his cousin. If anyone can offer a way to debate this argument AND WIN, I'm all ears.

Time For Time

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 22:32:00 +0000

If I can only get one thing done today, it will be to post a new blog.
Sounds like a mantra? I'm starting to search out there for a cure for what I have. I work and work - or at least I think I do- sitting at my computer 10 hours a day, every day (ok maybe it's 5 sometimes), yet none of my projects wrap. And then more roll it. When I finally chip off one, two more appear; like something from the SCiFi Network. I'm told I must have ADHD and Sage's pediatrician can help with that if I pass all of those determination tests. Turns out, I don't have time to take them or I forget and another week passes! Ironic. I can't get help for distraction because I get distracted. LOL.
Monday, the start of what feels like my spring. No snow in my backyard and the wild green grasses bud where the construction dirt from last year hasn't crushed them.
Sage's second winter of her life closes although we may still get in one or two sessions at the Bird before they close on Memorial. She skis now! Can't make the 'pie' to stop but that's what Mommy and Daddy are there for. The kid's got balance and absolutely no sense of danger on sticks. She hasn't had any big crashes and when she touches snow she just raises her palms up for me to dry them off (she doesn't like wearing her gloves when the sun's out).
Sage Update-
Sage is a regular Chatty Kathy. She sings and cheers along to Dora (yes, I know). At 2.5, she's imitating the things we say and do. This weekend she insisted on sitting in the driver's seat (my car was parked), she clicked into the seatbelt, put one hand on the wheel and searched for 'her phone' with the other. "Where's my phone," she asked. "I need my phone." FYI- handsfrees aren't mandatory in Utah yet. She loves being outside, sliding and climbing. Here are some recent pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/mtnmedia/20090422?authkey=Gv1sRgCLjOouXCtK6Sdg&feat=directlink

She'll eat anything if she's in the mood and though we never force her to finish, she has quite the appetite. Sage loves to entertain. I actually think she gets a kick out of hearing all of the oohs and ahhs when she runs up and gives someone a hug.

Ryan update:
Living together has been working out. Our schedules are radically different so that I wind up waking solo, the bed to myself. He leaves at 5:30 a.m. Ugh. Except that I stay up so late that I'm dead to the world when his alarm goes off at 5 a.m.
He still has his job at Fidelity as other heads roll past his cubicle, he plays in a hockey league twice a week, and does his best to pick up after himself and stay clear when I'm out of sorts. Easy going guys rule.

Jill update:
I'm into week four of my 8-week acting class and getting back into the swing of things. Every winter, acting takes a back seat to skiing, but now that I have time, I can play a bit. I even went to the climbing gym on Saturday. I'm still hunting for that balance between being a mom, working and taking care of myself. The latter suffers. I want to exercise more and find time for friends but instead I Facebook and blog. Sigh. Fortunately, I take frequent trips that fulfill the hole for fun and play. We're heading to Cali to see my folks the week of Memorial Day. Disneyland, SeaWorld, LegoLand and long lost roommates from college are on the agenda.
As for work, I've taken on the gig of Associate Editor for MountainGetaway.com and must file weekly reports on hot deals in the Mountain West. This is great because I now make the regular money I thought I'd be losing from Sports Guide.
I also have a giant assignment due next week for National Ski Patrol Magazine and am waiting to here back on two assignments for Sunset Magazine.

Ok, that's life in a nutshell. More to come when I feel inspired! Hope you are all happy, well and shedding those winter shells.

A Moment of Sun

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 00:15:00 +0000

My parents arrived on Saturday to see Sage and spend a spring week in Park City. We did the Smith's rotisserie chicken and some taters thing last night, watched Forbidden Kingdom and off they went into a blizzard to get back to the Westgate Hotel. The call came just minutes later.
Ryan took off (in my car ;) ) with a shovel in hand to dig them out. My mom said she drove the rest of the way back to the Westgate at about 5mph and whiteknuckling all the way. Poor people. Coming from San Diego, they're not used to winter driving. To them, this is 'bad' weather. To skiers, we're in heaven. But, careful what you wish for.
I begged for "one more powder day" and I got two weeks of it! Ryan even took a vacation day from work to play in it last week. I've skied three of the best powder days of the season last week at Snowbird - even filmed at Brighton with Ritchie on Friday with waist deep swirling around me. Yeowza. The driveway had to be plowed three times in the last 24 hours. Need I go on? By Saturday, I was definitely ready to spend the day on the bunny hill with Sage and watch the pond skimmers.
Props to Ryan for being a major gentleman and rescuing my folks when they got their rental car stuck in a snowbank last night. The snow got deeper and deeper throughout the day and, instead of letting up like we thought, it got worse after dinner.Ryan was everyone's hero. I stayed back to watch Sage and clean the kitchen. God how traditional does that sound? When it comes to digging and pushing out a car, he wins. I'm still not changing my mind about his assuming that my car is his (it's not) or him wanting to lean on me before he tries to solve his own problems but I'm no longer angry.
Boy, was I fuming. I did wind up loaning him my car; he thanked me when he got home and I explained that it wasn't the car but his eager willingness to inconvenience me without ever attempting to find a better option (like getting a ride from a co-worker). I told him all he needed to do was to show he had made at least SOME kind of effort. BIG BUTTON issue. I have enough to do in my life without having to deal with damage control of his issues too (at least not before he tries to take care of them himself). We'll see what happens next time, of course, but today, he's my dreamboat again.
Gotta hit the shower now.I took my parents snowmobiling at Deer Valley's Garff Ranch and then we cruised through Kamas like tourists- buying home-smoked jerky and shopping at the New West Country Store. I dropped them at their hotel so I could grab Sage from the sitter's, shower and head back out for dinner. Whew. The last time they were here (a year ago), they complained of boredom. This time, they'll go home needing a vacation! :)

What Should I Do?

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 04:47:00 +0000

Ok, so maybe I'm the biggest bitch on wheels but I can't stand the fact that Ryan can't think or act for himself. It's like he assumes I've replaced his mommy but I'm not his mother and never will be. I don't exist for him; I don't exist to coddle him and make life easy for him. If I wasn't around, sure, he would find a way to handle trials on his own but because I am around and I'm good at navigating life, he sits back and lets me drive. I DON'T WANT TO DRIVE when he can. And, in this case, he can!

His car broke down tonight and he had it towed to a shop that told him it might be fixed tomorrow afternoon. So he spends all night playing hockey and drinking beer with buddies instead of finding a way to get to work in the morning. Why? Because he expects to take my new car and leave me at home all day. Sometimes I never leave the house so I wouldn't miss my car - but that's by choice. The fact that he had plenty of time to contact a co-worker who lives right around the corner from us and who could have given him a ride, leaves me livid. All because he doesn't want to get his ass out of bed a half-hour earlier in the morning?! If I was in the same sitch I would do whatever was easiest for everyone. I would, in fact, get up and catch a ride.
Of course, those who know me are saying, "Riiiight, Jill does what is easiest on her." Yes, to an extent that's true. But I also figure out a way to deal with a situation that makes the most sense for everyone. For example, I don't ask random people for a ride to the airport. I ask around to see if someone is already heading in that direction. If I couldn't get him to the airport, Ryan would park his car at the ParknJet even if it meant paying for a week there before he would try to find a ride. Instead of borrowing Ryan's car all the time while mine was getting fixed, I rented from Enterprise and they picked me up. If I'm hungry, I make myself something to eat. If Ryan's hungry, he'll order delivery or drive somewhere and buy himself dinner before he'd make even a sandwich or can of soup. He's wired to expect me (or women in general) to take care of him.

It would have been easier for Ryan to simply get a ride from someone who is already going in to his office but he's being selfish and expects me to enable his laziness. He'd rather assume I'll come to his rescue than for him to go out of his way and make some phone calls.
This is the same sh*t he did when he got his DUI and lost his license FOR THREE YEARS. He expected me to chauffeur him around instead of trying to catch rides from those heading in the same direction. In fact, there were more than a few times when I called MY friends and asked them to give him a ride because he "didn't want to impose on anyone." But it's ok to impose on me? Why is it that being a girlfriend means getting the raw end of the deal? Is it too much to ask to be treated the way he might treat a friend? With concern over imposing? Granted, the definition of "relationship" is 'never feeling like you're imposing' but that attitude truly sucks.

Would Ryan do the same for me?
The answer's yes. If I needed his car- for whatever reason- he would have me drive him to work (at 5:30 a.m.), drop him off and take his car. He wouldn't think twice about it. Wait a minute! Would he call and get a ride in to work and leave his car for me? Uh Uh. So I guess we can't say he'd do the same for me. Anyway, back to the analogy- he lends me his car when I won't lend mine. If it were that simple (and it NEVER is), of course he could take my car and I stay home for a day. The point I'm trying to make is that it's not about the car. It's about his unwillingness to use anyone but me. If he had made even a little effort to find a ride, I would have been willing to help. But no, he goes out and f*7ks around all night then comes home and asks for my car keys.
I've never been much of a sharer so you can't take my stuff without my permission and assume it's cool and you can't guilt me into giving it over. (Which he is now relentlessly doing.) I have to want to share.

He wants - and expects - me to carry his ass and it drives me nuts. Why are the men I date so unresourceful and ineffective?? I guarantee you that he plans to call in sick tomorrow rather than get up early and call his friend for a ride; just to try to make me out as the bad guy and subsequently blame me for the reason he lost a sick day. After six years, I know that program.

5 minutes later:

Looks like I was right (of course). He just walked into my office to announce he's "going to be hanging out" with me tomorrow. He's calling in sick.
What do I do, people? Let him lose the day and forever be the crappy girlfriend? Or give in and enable him to pull this act yet again?

Is Winter Over?

noreply@blogger.com (Jill Adler) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 07:10:00 +0000

Totally fun weekend but I'm making this short and sweet cause this damn site just jettisoned my beautiful entry and forced me to rewrite everything- which I won't. No new snow since Tuesday. All's heating up super quick and super sick. Did a PSIA clinic up at Powder Mountain today and got a peek at the final day of the SuperFly snowkite event. If Pow wasn't two hours away, I might try to get back up there before the snow's gone and take a kite lesson. Powder is the first resort to designate a dedicated zone for snowkiting and Best Kites has set up a demo and training center up there for seasonal flying.
Groomers were sweet and soft. Off-piste, not so much. Yet our group leader forced us into the muck. Something about how it brings out the best in us because it forces you to focus on what your feet and legs are doing to survive. Riiiiight. Chunky, unforgiving, leg-turning rotten crud. It began to mush up by 2 p.m. and be more like spring slush but only had one run left in me by then. Now't he best time to take the tot skiing. Everytime Sage sees me dressed for the hill, she asks to come along. We finally took her up to Silver Lake Village at Deer Valley where I knew we could easily play on the magic carpet up there. She had a blast and so did we. This was her first time skiing in front of me (I skied backwards to keep her from taking off down the hill).
More to come I'm sure now that it's sooooo warm out.