HALLOWEEN Bo bo boooo

Smurfette was the MC of the evening at Patricia Fields party

I love these costumes, but check out the head! It's not him! It's her!!!!

Our group - Moi, Alena, Ana (the one you can't see), Kostya, Julia and Ms. Denis as a woman (of course!)

Blanka
A Madam at Patricia Fields party

The golden boy

Another costume with little fabric ...

Eeee-haaaaaa

And this would be Meeeee ...


DENIS the menis!!!
Apparently he's been having problems picking his Halloween outfit, because he dresses up like this normally ...

(Almost true ;)

Kermi and Glen

Self-preservation 101

Breast cancer does not only come with the operation, chemotherapy, needles, tears, get-well cards and pitiful looks, it also puts you face to face with a question of self-preservation or in another terminology - children.
The average woman gets BC at the age of 40+, or a stage of life when most them have already:
A) had children
B) had grandchildren
C) had children/grandchildren, but wish they never had them the first place!

Thanks to my pure "luck" as it happened - I belong to the 5% of all women on this universe with whom Harry (BC) moved in early and therefore screwed up all my "I don't want kids until I am ready" attitude, where "ready" may be interpreted as a factor significantly dependent on the desire to obtain higher degrees, more money, better job/career, better quality of a sperm donor/boyfriend (past tense) and my ability to curb my constantly growing travel lust .....

Reversed psychology works! (Mom: the more you say you want grandchildren, the less I do!) Having worked as a nanny myself for million years works also! Annabel, I love you! But ohh my favorite time of every day was when I could hand you over to your eager parents, closed the door and did not hear even a sneeze!

Well, Harry changed all this!

If you never wanted children before, you now (with Harry) wish there was a stack of them in the closet just waiting to be released! Chemotherapy may put women to early menopause and as a result, many may never have children!
Ask me if I want children now!

Nurse Betty suggested a treatment where one can freeze eggs, or almost babies (embryos) or have a tissue taken out and then re-planted. We seem to be the prototype modern family of the 21th century! "Pick your boob size, shape and filling (hazelnut/banana crunch please or silicon??), freeze a few kids (just read in a magazine that they actually do not expire for another 10 - 15 years! .. unlike everything we have in our fridge from three weeks ago .. ) and pretend it's all normal! This would be my advice!

I wonder what's next ... penis extension???

* * * * * *
DISCLAIMER: This issue seems to be rather personal and due to this reason from now on I will refer to the bees and the birds ... Well, the bees ...
* * * * * *

My PMS victims

PMS: I am ignorant enough not to know if this abbreviation is a pre or a post thing, because I tend to have it before as well as after. During the chemo I will not have the privilidge of PMS-ing and so I started collecting my victims this afternoon at lunchtime.


Penang - Malaysian and Thai Restaurant and only few blocks from the office with $7.95 specials till 4pm!

Cluelessly browsing through the menu of Malaysian and Thai dishes. We picked two noodle dishes. Dry wonton whatever noodles was mine and the something something thai that came in a fish bowl was Oli's. I never like to be the only customer at a restaurant - it has proven to be a bad omen many times before, but we took the chance. As soon as our food arrived I became suspicious - the soggy dumplings that lay on the top of a hill of thin noodles covered by two fig leaves reminded me of a dish I saw on Fear Factor.
Oli's fish bowl of brown water with floating vegetables and sunken to the bottom chicken leftovers from yesterday's special did not look or taste better either.

I elegantly picked up my chopsticks, poked the whole through the dumpling and bit ...

"Excuuuseee meee! What is this?"

"Madam, it's pork!"

"Well, I thought this dish had only vegetables!"

"Miss, a Wonton dumpling is always filled with pork!"

"But I am a vegetarian!
(My transformation with this move from Queens to Manhattan is rapid!
I am becoming the Upper Eastsider that I used to hate when I worked in a restaurant myself!)
" Do you have anything vegetarian on the menu?!!!!"

"No! Nothing!"

"I'll have the basil chicken instead"
(I really am brave breaking the rule number one "Be always extremely nice to your waiter!" You don't want to feel a slimy sauce on that chicken breast called saliva! )
.
.
.
(Thank God I am not ordering coffee!
Dear Mr. Miserable, who used to send back most of your dishes because they weren't colorful enough or cooked enough or tasty enough .... do you remember those coffees I served you?
I guess, you must have had a few sleepless nights, huh?
It wasn't decaf ! :)

.................. the puzzled waiter leaves ....
returns ...
types something into the computer ...

"Miss, you know that basil chicken is not a vegetarian dish, right?"

Thanks for the warning! Jessica Simpson would be glad to have made a new friend in me!
"Are Buffalo Wings From a Buffalo?"
.
.
.
.
.
"Was it chicken???"

Field Day at the Social Security Office

Some days are good, others are not so good and others are damn right frustrating .. .
(Quote of the day)

Being a government employee myself I do not hold high expectations from these or similar institutions. I know all too well both sides of the story - in front of the window and behind the window.

As a clerk behind the window you hate the looks of the customers who stare at your every single movement, watch you breath in and out and hate you for the 3 minutes pee break when you can't hold it any longer ... Either way you look at it - the Behind the Window Person (BWP) is stealing pressures time.
I also happen to know, that the person with the attitude will go home to fetch additional documents, or wait an additional week for the processed papers ... however Ms. BWP will go out of her way to not require those same exact documents from the person who'll make her day brighter, compliments her on a new necklace or starts up a conversation about a home country (Or happens to be really I mean REALLY cute/good looking and single - if this field of the application is filled out).

Now, the life in front of the window is a bit less predictive. There maybe the fairy godmother (does not happen very often) sitting on her throne or the evil Witch of the West (no, no not ELvaaaaira:). This position is vulnerable! Now, when you are the person in front of the window always start off with your best behavior ...

Having these clear rules and calculations in my mind I set off to the Social Security Office .. 41th Street and 2nd Avenue. Not too bad .. I thought looking at a line of about 6 people. I leaned against the wall and observed the environment ... How strange! ... the poster on the information board had a huge gun in a circle crossed over ..
No guns allowed? ... I was becoming more aware of my surrounding while wondered the reason for this "No entry for craziees with guns" sign.
I am sure it is a very effective poster .. Next time I'll walk into a Social Security office with my gun I won't forget to check the posters first and subsequently run home, lock it up safely so that I can return again gun- free ..
OOOppsss there is a camera in my bag ... and a no camera sign next to the no guns sign ...

I am looking for the instructions on how to change my postal address ... well, they forgot about this one, didn't they?

Guns ... check
Cameras ... check
Bathroom .. check
Instructions on how to change your address ...... nnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa (Red buzzer)

Huuge smile, highest pitch voice ....
(I'll love you old miserable lady forever just please warm up to me)
"Helloooo, Good Morning! How are yo today? "
(cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeese)

"Gd!"
(One breath answer with teeth touching, she already decided she hates me! I know this attitude! ... She's having a shitty day and does not want to be here ... spiral downwards ... )

"I am here to change my address, because I moved and am having my social security card re-issued. I also changed my name."

"Where are your documents?"

"What documents did you need? I only have my passport and can give you my SS# aaand you made copies of all my documents last time when I was here, surely it's in my file!"

"I am not even going to bother with this!"
(She tosses my passport back through the slot ...)
You have to bring all your documents again!"

"But pretty pleaaase .. I am only here to change my address"
(Does not even look at me, pretends to call the next person on line)

"Ms! I really do not understand why you need my other documents! The last time I was here you complained that you do not understand Russian (my birth certificate is in Slovak) and surely you can find my status in your computer based on my SS number! It is your office that assigned it to me!"

"You have to go and get the documents, it's not my fault that you came unprepared!"

"And it is not my fault either that your office made a mistake and made my birthday in your database 5 months earlier! Theeeen you had the nerve to ask me for a document about the change of my birthday, which does not really change for the obvious reasons ..."
(Well, now that I think about it, I may actually start at the ZERO birthday from 2006 if all goes well and Harry leaves me alone .... I hope he is not like the Syssies I met in the past .. toss them out through the door and come back through the window .... )

Our duel carried on and on until it was just a commotion of women's voices and one of us had to give up ... which I hate to do, but the oversized dreadlocked Queen Latifah guard in her 3 sizes too small suit and 5 sizes too big butt approached me with a scary expression on her face and escorted toward the elevator ...

Two taxis later I was back. When life shuts one window, another one opens ... Right?
My taxi driver was absolutely adorable. A young African guy, Humi from Burkina Faso.
"Where are we going Chief?" (he giggled and checked me out through the front view mirror )
"Social Security Office Commander! 41th and 2nd"
"And how are you today?"
"I thank you for your question, pretty miserable"
(And this is how an ordinary taxi driver becomes an unpaid psychologist/social worker.)

So, I re-iterated my story after which he gave me all the correct responses .. "Aah that is terrible, I hear they are really bad over there, but you'll get it done ... (I don't understand where everyone gets their super sized optimism regarding my person these days ...
"I have cancer" ....
"You'll be fine, but IIII've been hurting my little toe for weeks" ... "Sucker! I have an advice for you too! You'll be fine! ;)

As upset I was about the SS issue, Humi was upset about the perception of Africans in the US. Apparently, he knows a lot about Czechoslovakia and how the Scandinavian countries invaded it once and had a big war and other countries from my part of the world, but Americans don't ... They all think that everyone in Africa is starving and people live in huts ...
"The last time this lady made me so upset .. I turned to her and said: Mademoiselle! I did not walk here from Africa, I flew!



"In an airplane!"


Hihi ...

Back at SS office. "My girlfriend" hides and I step up to a man this time (Well, maybe now I'll do better) I make a point of telling him that I do NOT believe he needs any of these documents ... but VOILA!
He puts my SS number into the computer and informs me that the card was issued YESTERDAY!
"Great, can we change the mailing address now and I am outta here?!"
"No, Miss we can not do it at this stage!"
"hmmm .... oookeeeeyyy .. and what is going to happen now?"
"Well, the card will get to your old address in about two weeks, the post office is instructed NOT to forward such mail, so it will be sent back to Washington DC, they will receive it in about another two weeks, they will then destroy it (now he is milking the situation ... I am visibly bubbling with anger and frustration ...) and you'll be ale to apply for a new card at this office in another two weeks, which is another two months before you get your new card !!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.


WHERE IS THAT GUN??????

The poster makes sense!

"Please read this information Dear future Social Security Office customer! In case you'll ever forget your gun that you're not supposed to have with you, please run home ..... you WILL need it! "

Next time you eat at the Chirping Chicken ...

The highlight of my every work day is lunch with Oli. Sometimes we start planning our menu as early as 9 am when we get to work ...

"Chicken?"
"How about sushi?"
"Salad?"
"Deli?"
"Mexican?"
"Chinese?"

We go through the list of countries around the world, dishes and aromas ... and end up with the Chirping Chicken. This "fine" eatery should have been closed long time ago looking at the charcoaled grill dripping oil, but it still attracts a steady flow of Men at Work, Nannies with crying upper East Side whiners in carriages and US (Oli and Myself). It is one of a "few" places in New York where the only decoration hanging is an instruction board on how to save a choking person. One of the last places in New York, where no celebrity has ever been sighted and Zagat does not know it exists!

As a matter of fact, this place is so special that one Summer day we witnessed a peculiar event.

Unfortunately, the only open table was the one closest to the bathroom, which is divided by a wall. Our appetite was at its peak as we bit into the sultry pieces of the grilled chicken when out of nowhere a little girl about 2 years old appeared and squatted in her diapers behind the wall.
The belonging nanny, in front of the wall was immersed in conversation with her friends and was carelessly sucking on her chicken bone.
As the little girl squatted, her eyes bulged out, her tiny face started to turn red, which was followed by some sort of a groaning noise; whiping the floor with her little fingers and consequently licking it all the way around ...
"Come honey try again, push ... "
"Nana, it's not comin' out ... "
"Just try again sweetie ... , Ladies, I hope you don't mind?!!!!! ... "

"What is going on here?" our astonished faces changed emotions and we burst into a laughter that turned into disgust ... The diaper princess was pooping! behind the wall, while coached by the nanny and having us as audience ... Bon Appetite at the Chirping Chicken! .....

Dreams VS Reality

I've been meaning to take this picture for a long time! This sign is posted at the entrance of our old building in Queens. If the "EXIT" sign does not help, the green sign next to the red button will.

(Thank you for the informative direction on behalf of all color-blind individuals with red/green deficit. )

* * * * *

I have nothing exciting to report from the weekend besides the fact that I am longing to get my old life back. I don't necessarily mean the cancer-free as much as the Ikea, Bed/Bad/Beyond and Target free world. I am so busy picking out the right color of the toilet mat that I actually feel guilty about forgetting about Harry (the cancer). I read about Kylie Minogue how she is going from one healer to another yet the closest I got to Harry issues is reading my horoscope and interpreting my dream.

I dreamed about a tiger attacking me. The attack appeared much more violent than the monkey bites from Costa Rica, that I pride myself with from 4 years ago. Unlike the monkey that was stupid enough to know, that I wasn't the one who wanted to take his stolen camera, this tiger knew exactly what he wanted! My meat!!!

Eager to find the interpretation of the not so vegetarian dream I rushed to the computer and typed in "tiger". Dream interpretation is really not my thing but under the circumstances I will trust pretty much anything that is supposed to bring luck or foresee my bright, healthy and rich future with kids ... like the chain emails that you send to 15 poor fellas that didn;t even know that you had in your address book after which the phone rings
"You just won million dollars" .. and your life turns upside down ...
Now, of course if you're me, you send the the chain letter, the phone rings
"Ms. Vida! We'll need to see you at the office, please make an appointment"
"Is there anything wrong?"
"No, no ... your results are just a-typical; Don't worry it is probably nothing ..."
... and your life still turns upside down ...

Hoping that my tiger would be a sign of health this is what I found:
"To dream that you are attacked by a tiger, signifies overwhelming gloom and disappointing failures. You may find yourself distressed and tormented by rivals. "

and this ...

"To see wild animals in your dream is generally a good omen pertaining to business, but the interpretation depends on their attitude; if they were calm, your affairs will prosper, but if they attacked you (or each other), you can expect some reverses. "

I am pissed off with dreams! I think I'll rather choose reality ...

A gay day with Misa, Wigs and Mr. Fallic!

Misa - or Mikejla (Hired to be: Top cheerleader; Helper in moving and packing, feeding at times; Listener of all my life myseries - whining included and Boat rower for a sunny afternoon at Central Park on October 20th, 2005 .. Also ... The Mystery person from "Monsson in New York" photo.)




















I ran into Mr. Fallic today .. read on ...








Ms. Chemo 2006 - soon to be crowned ... vote 1800-ChemoIdol
(Lines open once this torture is over - perhaps in March ... )
Which one is the winner?

* * * * * *
Doc. C day again. My last boob enlarging experience and I was half hour late! The closer I live to places I have to go, the later I arrive - seems to be a pattern.

The women sitting in the waiting room look at me like as I would at an alien arriving from outer space. Judging by their looks I do not have a God given right to be sipping coffee at the 10th floor of the plastic surgery kingdom. While Michael Flatly wiggles his tippy-toes on the morning news the two ladies at the corner move their heads together, their lips move, heads separate simultaneously, look at the New York Times and in just a second I catch both staaariiing at meeee..... I can hear their conversation in my head "I can't believe how young she is ... must have had this operation what I had, but I was 50!"

STOP STARING!

The nurse butchered my name just as everyone does in the US "Elvaaaaaayra" she called.
While undressing, my memory replayed the first time I visited this office - a nurse trainee, a lovely Irish lady with a thick accent and another one with a rough edge "don't mess with me" kind came to the office. They took off my bra and dragged the two boob-juice drains out. Could
hardly manage without a scream! As I slowly turned my head I saw my new body part ... not too bad I thought ... then she touched it and I didn't even feel it ....

As my private roller coaster was gaining speed downwards I announced: "I want to die! I WANT TO DIE RIGHT NOW! Poor little Irish lady (as I found out she was never meant to work here, but got misplaced without knowing that one day she will have to deal with bundles of emotional mess - Moi) .. I could see a tear drop in her eye ....

Today, on the other hand her eyes lit up as I apologized for my drama queen performance that time. "I felt so sad seeing you upset, I lit a candle at Saint Paddy's cathedral for you"
"Theaanks Mother Mary, Joseph and Jeeeessossss"

* * * * * * *

One of my top notch cheerleaders is Misa. I would have made a bet she'd be also running late as always ... just made it! I needed the extra pair of critical eyes to pick out my new head design.
To no surprise did we walk into the salon, where being queer is as much of a requirement from the employee's part as not having hair on the clients. I was lead by Gwen (Thought it was a girl's name?) to a back room and seated behind closed doors.

"Ohh Hello Gwen, this is my professional photographer here .."
(I tried to bring some cheer to the ice cold face ... )

(no luck ... )

"Just peeaaaas do NOT! DO NOT! take picsturesss of meee"
(This wasn't even the cute gay act with a fancy hand wave and the nose up. It was a much more like "f off b*(&&* I am French and have an attitude, this is not a photo shoot! " kind of attitude - as I sensed

It felt vulnerable ... Misa rolled her eyes and gave me a hug ... "I hope she does not blow up .... Gooosssh I'd hate if Elvi made a scene"
(Mischa had no idea - the opinionated taxicabfighterandcustomerservicemonster was on vacation today)

The next sentence was of no comfort either: "Ohhh gooshhh! (high-pitch, hand wave)
"You really AAARE overdue for highlights ... "

Listen buddy! Shut the F up!
A) You work in a hair salon and your hair is not exactly a catalogue cut either
B) I am not, neither is my boyfriend, nor 90% of my friends haidressers as yours are
C) Men's haircuts cost a fraction of what my highlights go for - being it exactly $200 (hope Geoff does not read this part)
D) You're here to compliment me and shower me with lies like "You will look fabulous daaarling! I've never seen a more beautiful chemo patient in my life! You may not even need a wig, your eyes are so gorgeous, they will shine through your bald head like pearls at the bottom of the seas! My boyfriend's head shape is just like yours ... etc. It can not be THAT hard LOVE to make up one of these, can it?

After an uncomfortable quiet Gwen inquired "Are you getting Taxol? Ac? Or both?"

(Do not even pretend knowing anything about breast cancer you you youuu Faaaa Rambo .. I mean Rainbow man! .... !)

"I had chemo 6 months ago, this is the length of my hair now ... "

I seriously wondered for the first second whether this was a salesman talk. Like when you're at the shoe store trying on a pair of boots and the sales clerk exclaims "My girlfriend has the same exact pair! She loves them!" (But this is my original pair, the one I was trying on is in the box! And I hate them! :P)
..... No, he wouldn't lie about this ..... I feel compassionate! FrenchGay attitude justified! ...

6 wigs later, long hair, short hair, blond hair, brown hair, human hair, fake hair - just another fake addition to my body I still can not decide! In most of them I feel like the orthodox Jewish grandma from Brooklyn, in the best one I feel like Red Riding Hood placed her basket on her head waiting to be eaten by the ugly wolf. I got Red Riding Hood one hoping to avoid the wolf and skipped with my partner in crime and top notch cheerleader to Whole Foods across the street.

This is where my day got brighter ... Mr. Fallic stood uninhibited showing off all he had ... We're in the US .. people do not look at penises like European women do .. and so I hesitated for a while whether to open my mouth big or do what I did ... grabbed him by the little something he had to offer and sealed it with a photo .... to the amusement of the average passerby I had no shame ....

Positive cancer experience #5 (PCE) - You loose all your shame! Youppiiieee ... you even grab a statue's penis pull it hard, even think of putting it into your mouth in public and have NO SHAME ;)

Must have breast cancer thingimigics

This breast issue is getting old I know, but everywhere I turn these days it seems to follow me. It started with the breast cancer month - October, to walks, websites, ribbons, sweaters and even Bloomberg saying on TV how concerned he was for me. (The photo is of a breast cancer candle sold by Pier1 - just in case you wondered what breast cancer smells like). Having breast cancer as it seems is quite hip and a business like no other.

Bed Bath and Beyond sells tic-tac in a pink box! Another lady I found on the net knits fashionable fake boobs in any shape or color ($65 for a single one!!!!). I liked the watermelon design with black pits - just to beat the stereotype aaand get this! The Brits came out with a boob implant mp3 player.
Relieeefff ..... eventually something exciting is coming my way - I hate those gay fanny pack carriers anyway.

I can not beat this description of the product ... :

" Accordingly, he's proposed sticking an mp3 player in one dug, and a storage chip in the other. Quite how playback is achieved we're not quite sure*, but it may well involve the listener burying his or her head in the cleavage for a full stereo effect.
Likewise, God alone knows how you select tracks, but breasts do come equipped with a pleasing alternative to the iPod's selector wheel. We can imagine the scenario: Girlfriend: "Oi, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Boyfriend: "Hold on, I'm just scrolling down to Stairway to Heaven."

Another exciting fact about BC as told by Geoff's mom's tailor's daughter is that her oncologist did not like the drugs that are prescribed for side effects and as it goes Geoff's mom's tailor's daughter got a prescription for no other than medical Maaariiiihuaaaana.

I am a little bit of a Billy Clinton myself - can not inhale, but I am sure that practice makes perfect and will get the hang of it ... This weed thing is somewhat of a karma coming back to me, because the first crying week I spent listening to Bob Marley "everything's .. gonna be all right ... "

No darlings! All those that have not made friends with me until now, it's too late! :)
I don't do friends interviews until I grow my old hair back!

Boobs au naturel!

Woke up, looked through my collection of pants, shirts, skirts and dresses and decided to go with the tango dancer design. Looking at the mirror I was more bothered today than before - it is awkward to walk around with two different size and shapes. The only way I was going to win the "Let's look good and attract some attention" competition on the streets was putting on my extra short extra tight mini skirt. .. decided against the distractive method and rather regressed to age 8 ...

"NO, this sock is too bulky, this one is scratchy, this one I just hate - should have liquidated it long time ago ... Let's see what else ... aaahh handkerchiefs!

... Started off with carefully stacking one inside the B cup and pushing it against my boob.
Look
Re-adjust
Measure
Borrow mens critical eyes
Push it up like you're proud of what you've got
.. Ohh YEAAHHH MAMASITA ... (Papi you better watch out for that drill in your hand, because you are just about severing your finger! ... AAAaaaand you know what they say the lenght of men's fingers indicate?!!! :)
Maybe another handkie
and another one,
another one ...
well, maybe I should stop now before I take up xtra subway space and have it squeezed out during some highly humiliating experience ...

The results are great!
No pain, no saline just some colorful cotton made in China. Handkerchiefs are really a multi-functional item! My friend Erin told me once a story about another multi-functional item. It happened during her elementary school years. Erin, a friend and mom went to the mall ... being 12 they ran until Erin tripped, her forehead cut .... mom shuffled through her bag and geniously found a hygienic pad! Stuck it to her forehead and she was healed! Psychologically marked for the rest of her life she still recalls the embarrassment ....
She needed those wings way before she fell! Always!

* * * * *

Tomorrow I am off wig shopping! A really big day! Any ideas?

Quick diagnostic method - no med school required!

Doc Leontievic (He is so Russian that I just had to make this name up :) was running late as always. He is a neurologist whom I visited just after my BC news. As soon as you realize that something is really wrong with you, you start watching your body .. ohhhh aaah my little toe hurts (must be cancer), I see blur (cancer Harry went to my brain), my nail broke (I am dying) ... suddenly it becomes so easy to diagnose yourself with any disease you wonder what doctors are doing during their 10 years of school and residence - especially because all the symptoms only lead to one - well maybe two things - cancer or in my case MS ....

I swear I had all symptoms even before I started reading Lance Armstrong's book about his struggle with cancer. Once I read the first three chapters I felt my testicles hurting and decided that perhaps I should just skip the next 20 chapters and for my own benefit read only the last two. ... Or the last sentence ...."Now I am married, have three kids, won x amount of races , half the world is marked by my ugly yellow bracelets and I managed to get divorced and will re-marry even with one testicle "

The way to diagnose yourself is easy.
This is how you do it:
- find a symptom
- look up WebMD.com
- type your symptom into the search category and you are bound to find some incurable and deadly disease that will haunt you day and night! If it's not incurable you are asked to seek medical attention "IMMEDIATELY!". Let's say you typed in "fever" today ... you know what you'd get? "Bird flu" (The site seems to be updated daily!)

The MRI came back clear;
"Elviiiraaa, would you be very disapointed if I told you that there is no chance that you have MS?"
"Well, Doc. Leontievic, I think I could live with that :)"
"Dosvidania"

* * * * *

Walking down memory lane I took the subway again! I entered the smelly world of human zoo, where urine mixes with sweat. Not having a current metro card I carefully estimated the fastest line in front of the four machines - one was not working and so I stood patiently in front of the one I picked (as usually ) the wrong one - this did not take bills and so I moved to the right - just to find myself at the end of the line again.
The situation here was not easier - a man was trying to force his dollar bill into the card slot. What an unbearable site! I stood up closer pulled the bill from his hand, which he hesitantly let go off and showed him the invention of the century. Why do I always get stuck behind people who never used a vending machine in their lives?

* * * * * *

Blog Birthday

Dear Blog!

Happy Birthday to you! You are one week old! It is hard to believe that I was feeding you for all this time. The last time I decided to give life to a diary (your descendent) at the age of 13 I failed miserably only after a couple of entries.

Situations would get solved faster those days - I liked a guy; Day 1 he smiled at me - I wrote the entry - Day 2 we became boyfriend and girlfriend - I was too busy to write an entry - Day 3 he dumped me - wrote an entry for 10 pages and never did it again.

nowadays dear blog I write to get Harry out of my body - Yuppp! I named my cancer! I want egualiteeeee' as the French say (I don't speak French) If guys can call their private parts Joes and Henries and Big Dudes I can call my cancer whatever I want. Harry sounded suitable. So there!

Harry is evil! Did you notice? He is a man - unpredictable; does not ask for directions (I want him out!) and loves to veg out - as per this case Harry likes being in my body (Another reason why he'd be a man)! We fight day and night - even though I almost forgot today amidst all this furniture building and unpacking that he resides in me. Doc. Mo said that she thinks she killed him all (it certainly felt like she did to me), but I still have to go through this kaka called chemotherapy. Apparently it's only an insurance policy - like the one you take on a house. This in fact is a very accurate comparison, judging by the cost of it all it does feel like a rather large mortgage payment, only my payments will be paid by dinero with an interest of body hair.

I've spoken to my Oncologist doc about chemo - she named about 124 side effects and assured me that if my fingers fall off one day I should just call the hospital - it's most likely from the "treatment" (They have the nerve to call it a "treatment" Trick or Treat?!!). I guess it's obvious - I am NOT looking forward to it ..... Also, every drug has another drug for the side effects ... so this way I will be able to pick whether I will take a drug that will cause diarrhea or nausea or constipation ... Life is full of choices ... I am so overwhelmed ...

Doc Mo. is the sweetest breast cancer person I've met so far. Every time she talks to me it's as if she was reading a Thomas the Tankengine book "Well, you have a little bit of cancer that is a bit dangerous; Once upon a time will take your right breast off, BUTTT the King of the plastic kingdom will replace it immediately with another one instead .. and so the only difference between you and some other 50 year old woman later on will be that your breasts will be perky while theirs will be sagging all the way down ... Ohmmm it's true that there is a tiny chance of recurrence, buTTT we don;t have to worry about it now ... and they lived happily ever after ... "

Chhhoooo chooooo Thomas hurried off to arrive to another station, where patient # 1246633 was already waiting, reading the latest Martha Stewart Home Improvement magazine readily available at train stations as this one ...

I got into an operating room, (ER scene - everyone in masks) she told me to "hop on' to the operating table and held my hand good night ... that's Doc Mo. By the BC patients terminology most often used - WARM and FUZZY :)

Oh so sorry dear blog I am off the track with this b-day card ... I'll do better next time ...

All our love.

Elvi & the X (Harry)

Pumpkin season at IKEA

What a complete waste of a day! Went to IKEA - bought everything but the kitchen sink; Saw the runaway bride with googoo eyes having a fight with a boyfriend over a sofa color and a dozen of other couples doing just the same ... ;

We fought - Geooofff hates anything that reminds him of a flower - like three dots next to each other - or pink - or red - or anything that has the least of a feminine touch.
We will live in a pastel world of grey and white from now on.

I heard on the radio the other day that pumpkin candles accentuate sexuality ... I picked up a small candle - apparently it's excessive at the moment because "we better worry about furniture" ... Having explained the reason for the purchase Geoofffffffreeeyyy picked up a 15 kilo pumpkin candle with three wicks and supportively assured me that he is willing to search through pumpkin outfits from the Halloween costume section or turn into a pumpkin for that matter ...

Manhattanite diaries - Day 1

Every sign points to the fact that I became a Manhattanite today!

• I now live on the Upper East side in an apartment that is half the size of where we lived before and twice as expensive!
• I never have to open my own door to the building again and can actually walk to work!
• I still make less money than what my rent is!
• Could not fit a medium size box of pasta to the kitchen cabinet
• Am thinking about handing over all my books to the charity store in order to save space!

The last factor still separating me from this urban jungle is that I do not have a sausage dog (as described in a previous entry) with a rain coat and a pink ribbon on it. ....

Oh almost forgot ... I am also a Manhattanite, because I have a shrink.

The gang of Israeli movers, whom I passionately questioned about any possible date opportunities for my friend Noa (She refuses to date anyone but an Israeli! Both parents are strictly required to be Israeli or else he'd be only a 50% suitable match) were still at the heat of unpacking when I politely said TODA (Thank You in Hebrew) and caught a cab to Doc. Lu's office.

Never did I long for this kind of luxury in my life, but having breast cancer is a package deal - "Breastkfuskt included". You get your own surgeont, oncologist, plastic doc, a shrink and a nutritionist if you wish.

Waiting for the appointment I notice time and time again that I am much younger than all the rest of the women whose eyes are examining me even before the doc's get a chance. Yeap, I am much younger than most patients here ... much younger by something like 30 - 40 years?!

Doc Lu is nice as always ... mostly we just talk .. about ME! Me! Me! Me! - this disease reinforces my only child syndrome and so I have no stopping and even after her alarm rings billion times to say "Time's up" I carry on ... blablabllabllablaaaa ....

I am definitely feeling better judging by the urge that takes over my mind as I step out to the pouring rain - SHOPPING! The only danger is that while the shopping urge is a renewed phenomenon, the "let's splurge because I have cancer" is a notion that remains ... I see a few dollar bills dissapearing from my wallet, hesitate, SHIFT, CONTROL, ENTER ....

I am browsing through Urban Outfitters - I wonder about the existence of the "I never find anything" individuals (Did they have a difficult childhood? Were they made fun of?) ... I always find something/anything! ALWAYS! As it happened many times before, happens again .. my auto-pilot intuitive desire leads me to THE most expensive item of this CLOTHING store - a beautiful make up table with a price tag of $1950 ... I LOVE IT!!! Uff ..

I'll start Santa's list early this year ;) ...

H&M is calling my name ... I quickly browse through men's, misses, and large sizes but can't find the ASIMILAR BOOBS section! Jeeesss what an insult! They forgot about me!

A blue sweater catches my eye, looking at the price tag I practice self-discipline by repeating the magic words I was instructed to say on occasions like this "Elvi, be strong; be stroonnnnggg" ...

......a grey ruffle skirt .. don't have my size ... a sight of relief ...... In the meantime I decide to become the most fashionable Breast Cancer diva, walking gracefully on a runway of some fashion show, I nod a "Hello" to Tyra Banks, pose for a picture in a see-through boob-revealing dress and shake hands with Donald Trump ... I guess it's some BC charity event .... The following thought kills it! I realize that Kylie Minogue may already be in the lead and I give up - just like that and walk to the door

OOO OOOOhhhh .... A certain Misiss is eyeing "my" sweater .... and she is off with it, immediately followed by another woman .... I panic ... hesitate .... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand leave with two items - the sweater + something to go with it .... :)

My right arm can only lift 2.5 kilos .... current total weight 1.2kg with the umbrella ... could have shopped some more .... I am home ....

And how AM I today?

If cancer does not kill me, moving will do a good job instead ... I hate this! Our apartment is a mess (times 100!).

Shalom for Yom Kippur! Had salmon and stink from onions ...

I had people suspiciously asking me today "Aaaaand how are Youuu doing?" Almost like it was an apologetic question so quiet, that if I wasn't looking at the lips of the inquirer I would not have known what the heck they wanted to know ... It wasn't the general conversation of "How are you?" "I am fine, and you?" It was a much more dramatical one ... like it isn't obvious in a second that what they really saying is "Having cancer is terrible dear, I feel so bad for you, I'll have you in my prayers even though I really don't believe in anything, thanks God it's not me AMEN!"

I would much rather just have a normal "How are you today?" and answer "I am Foooouuuchin' GREAT! - as the Irish say in this neighborhood.

There is a huge cultural difference between this quick conversation here and at "home", in Slovakia. If someone asked you on a normal cancer-free day "How are you?" you'd give a list of five random diseases that various family members are suffering from, the latest on their terrible financial situation and at least one horror story of someone 's cousin's brother's fiancee's niece who had just passed away - most likely from having worked herself/himself to death. As a bonus you may also get a gossip about some politician who wasted the government's money on a villa with 14 rooms in the countryside ...

On the other hand, if one actually had a disease of such, he/she will inevitably pretend that they don't have it by answering "Ohh I am good ... "

So, how am I?

Thanks for askin'

Hanging in there .... I am as fouuuckin' good as it gets ;)

Monsoon in New York and the uncovering of a yellow cab driver

I am not quite sure yet how to do better photo editing, so for now I'll start at the end of the day - tonight we packed up for moving. While having fun, we came accross some accessories - as pictured above ... It's me on the right; the identity of the secret person on the left will be revealed soon .. stay tuned :)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ufff (as most often quoted by Noa) ... I forgot to mention a few other things that happened yesterday. One of them is my emotional meeting with Antonio.

Antonio is my favorite over the counter-Mexican teddy bear- deli person-with a biggest smile. He works right accross from my job and we've had an untold friendship pretty much from the beggining. Our conversation for the past five years has been the following:
"Elviiii"
"Hola Antonio"
"How are you beautiful?" (I am a sucker for compliments. The owner of the place has no idea what business Antonio brings in with these and similar comments. I caught him cheating on me a couple of times .... Would you believe he said the same thing to other ladies? ...
However difficult this was for me, I decided for the tactic of selective hearing, in order to keep getting my daily dose of howareyoubeautiful for many others times to follow ....)
"I am good thank you"
"What is it going to be today?"
"hmmmm .... I am not ready yet "
"Let me guess! A buttered roll and a coffee?"
"Yeah, OK :)"
"So, how is the lucky man?"
.......

"Byyeeee .. have a good day!"

Walking from the subway I was preparing myself for the scenarion to come ... The same exact conversation followed but he did not miss to ask this time
"Where have you been???"
I quietly whispered "I am sick" ....
... Antonio, as always while tossing a bacon on a roll assumed the answer was the one he'd hear many times before after my longer dissapearance
"Ohh vacaaaation ... Europe??
I looked at him and felt my eyes tearing up ...
"Antonio, I am sick! I have cancer " I whispered while I practiced Ivana's reccommendation to see your unwelcome thought as clouds - just passing by ...

He looked at me sadly while making another egg and bacon to go ....

I paid and waited watching many many clouds passing by, a storm even a hurricane ....

Antonio handed me my order making sure he touched at least a smallest part of my hand, looked into my eyes and said "Elvi! You'll be ok"

... I believed him! :)

* * * * *

Today is Monsoon season .... Tralllalllallaaa singing in the raaaiiinnn we went and looked at our new apartment ... It is sooo great! 12th floor, Upper East side, gym (yeah! Now I don't have to pay for a gym membership that I'll never use! I may just write it down that we actually have it, not pay for it and never go ), pool, receptionist and a doorman!! I was given a warm and wet welcome to the hood the other day! Wet not because it was rainig like today, but but because a Paris Hilton kind of a princess sausage dog taking his morning walk passing by licked my ankle ... Yuuuuuukkk .. what a sissy! I made my first enemy ...

Had a cab fight ... no Bollywood today! The driver would not take us to Queens ... you see, there is enough business when it's raining in Manhattan. Driving to our place would be a loss of time for him and money .... Uffff again .. Arsehole!

PE#5 having cancer empowers "you" somehow to say what you want when you want it (I can't explain this better)

I am not a born New Yorker, but I am proud to say that I can be easily mistaken for one!
I am O_P_I_N_I_O_N_A_T_E_D! So, I told Mr. IamNotGoingToQueens that he better turn to Mr. IwouldLloveTotakeYoutoQueens as I was writing down his name and ID number. He put out a fight - true, but so did I and said that I am not willinng to move OOOOR get another cab and he better drive because I just got out of the doctors office and it is pooring rain and I have cancer (I may as well milk this fact at times like this) ....

This guys was the first one since my diagnosis who could not care less - even if I was missing all four of my limbs ... He was not going to drive .. . and apparently, why would he if I was going to complain anyway? .. So we waited and waited .. it was warm inside, we weren't rushing anywhere .. rain outside ... his car was occupied, he was not making money and we were having quite an interesting debate by now about loosing my hair and the excitement of getting million different wigs, thus completely ignoring his existence ...

He gave up as I thought he would after a while .... drove us home ... I decided that a complaint would be a waste and a moral lesson would do .... NOT! He told me "You! You! You woman are sick, mentally sick" .. opssieee wrong response! I have time today ... it is still raining I just have to find the address of the Mayor's Office and get even .... Siinging in the raaaiiiiinnn traalllallaaa

And just in case for the protection of you all ..
his name is AHMAD NASEER, license number 456433

A shot of saline and my first day back at work ...

Elvi and Oli .....

How can you tell that someone stole my hole puncher while I was away???
Also to notice is the red WOODOO doll on the board ;)!


Positive experience #3 while having cancer is that you can indulge yourself without feeling guilty. I took a cab to the city this morning! It felt great! Normally, this luxury would be saved to the wee hours, when you're standing half tipsy at some corner of Manhattan not having a clue which direction is downtown or uptown or how the heck you ended up wherever you are?!

My cabbie must have already had his XXL dose of caffeine this morning, because he was energetically humming a Hindi song while bobbing his had and driving across the Queens-Borough bridge. Now, I do not understand Bollywood that's true, but I can safely judge that he still makes more money driving the yellow car than performing on stage in the nighlife of New Delhi.

The first time I walked into the cancer center I wanted to pretend that I just worked there and had nothing to do with cancer or God forbid chemo. This feeling is now gone. I confidently wave past the security officers with a big smile as if walking to a 5 star hotel in my knee high leather boots and boa looking scarf tucked behind the Elie Tahari denim jacket (I had to point this out :) . You see, I dress particularly fashionable these days - especially on days when I am getting a boob job.

I do not think that my plastic surgeont, Doc. C recognizes me by my face or smile. I actually have to sit straight forward and open my blue gown (just as a perv would do) for him to go like "OOOh it's you Elvi, Sooo how you've been? " Every time I go to see him my boob grows miraculously or rather by injection of a saline liquid.

Most of the times I imagine walking into a bar
"Hi there! I'll take a shot of saline straight up, left boob please. Olives on the side. "

I now have my one and only chance to get the boobs of my dreams
(Positive experience #3 and 1/2??? ) for free!!!

Disclaimer: Please do not stare at my assets next time we meet. They are art in making and my legs are a pretty good sight as a replacement for now ;)

One more session of Doc C. left and the next time I'll see him will be May - I think.

I am back at the office - I mean work - yukkk. It is hard to believe the hardworkinghavinghadmillionjobsatthe sometime me can get so used to doing sweet nothing. Most people say "Elv you can't stay home ... you'd be so bored" - This assumption is now officially WRONG!

Oli and I catch up on the sad news of the place and some quality gossip. I also tell her that anything she says from now on can be used against her by bluntly posting it on this blog .. she giggles ...

A girl by the name of Liz calls me just as we are are ready to leave work. She got my number through a support group of some kind and she wants to help ...
"Hiiii, my name is Liz. I had BC 9 years ago and I am still alive!"

" Youpppppiieee I say .. I'll try to keep up with you girl!"

"I got so used to flashing my boobs, that I'd go to the dentist, he'd ask how I was doing and I'd pull my shirt up"

Liz went through hell and has more energy than most people I know.
(PE #4 - I keep meeting many survivors and they are the toughest cookies out there :)

When I grow up I want to be Liz!

Jennifer day :)

I forgot my camera at home today, but thought I'll post Jen's picture ... Here she is ...

I keep telling myself that something good is bound to come out of this surreal "experience". One of the good things in my cancer world that I can immediately identify is that the people who are normally really busy, have no time even for themselves will now make time for MOI and will even go out of their way to do some quality cheerleading! (positive experience #1)

Today was Jennifer day. I met Jen in college and have not seen her since graduating in June.
I never thought that the next time I'll see her will be my MRI exam ...
The exam was OK - not a big deal after all the injections, loud machines, red liquids and x-rays that I have gone through already. I am becoming somewhat of a specialist in these procedures. The weirdest so far was at the neurologist office. The nurse took out this plug looking thing attached to the electricity and poked my legs with it with who knows how many volts giving me shocks and tingles all over. She claimed it was a "grudge machine" for my previous sins or a lie detector - I could pick whatever I wanted and jump from the effects as high as I wanted she'd still proceed with it for about 25 times. crrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

I found out today that the office witch (W may be substituted with B) may stay for another year. This single fact is a sufficient proof for me that life is not fair - EVER. Let's do a simple math ... "There are 12 people working in an office. Two of them are able to perform the same work equally well, however one has difficulties following basic ethics like saying "Hello" or checking the volume control when in conflict. One is hard-working, friendly and helpful, the other is vicious, unfriendly and unprofessional who loves to advertise their workload ... Now then, "Which witch would you keep? "

Back to Jen - she quit smoking! (PE #2 )
BTW - she is single, smart and beautiful :)
(She'll kill me for this but if anyone knows someone, who is of opposite sex and has the same qualities please contact me ... ;o)

Mickey babysitts ..

Mickey and I have been planning to spend a day together on Long Island for so loooong :) .. I think I must have cancelled million times and I was going to do the same this time again ...

All I did on Saturday is sleep and mop over my diagnosis. It's been almost a month since they took away my right breast and I am still in denial about what is happening to me. Why me? Why now? Everything was going so well ... I just finished my degree in June (My big dream was achieved), I was planning my exciting trip to Brazil, I was interviewing for new jobs, I felt sexy and confident .. and I have a man with a HUGE heart next to me ...
...I don't think I cried once this year ...

... I don't even know how but Micks persuaded me .. he picked me up and we drove to the place, where I grew up. Well, not in a way a child grows up - more mentally and intellectually. We drove to Oakdale, NY. What a bachelor's pad he has! I've never seen an actual screen in anyone's apartment with a set up of an Xbox and the DVD player. Never having played those stupid games I decided to be this sexy warrior Xianghi (or whatever) and beat the shit out of Mickey as Son-sun-ya (or whatever) I never understood the fascination with these games .. and let me tell you! I still don't. We also drove race cars and visited a space station - too bad after 30 minutes of playing I still had difficulties shooting at the enemy rather than my partner Micks or driving for more than a second without crashing my car to the mountain.

Mickey has the most beautiful motorbike! I saw it for the first time today and wanted to try it ... I love speed and secretly always dreamed of becoming this biker chic in leather outfit just driving past guys who would then faint one by one from my beauty :) as I get off my Yamaha, take off the helmet and with a dignified toss to the side shake out my long hair.
Way to go Elv! (I will be bald in just a few weeks and never driven a motorbike in my life:)

We then visited Saruba or Syrup, also known as Saurabh :) in Port Jeff and had a romantic dinner in three accompanied by penne a la vodka.

Voila .. my first blog entry ... much more to come ....

When I already knew ...

About two weeks before I heard the bad news I went out with my friend Olga and Geoff
(b-friend/fiancee) to a restaurant in Astoria ... The place was beautiful, the food was great and I cried after one caipirinha all the way home ...