Monday, June 15, 2015

"Probably Nothing" . . .



Last Thursday, June 11th, I went for my annual CT scan and cancer check-up. It’s been 11 years since I was first diagnosed and operated on. I used to dwell on cancer a lot more in the early years, especially the first five. Then, over time, I thought about it less and less and only when I needed to make my appointments. My CT scans came out fine again this year, and there was immediate relief. No change and no new findings are the best news you can get. But then my doctor follows up with a little physical exam. Usually there is nothing remarkable and our visit is concluded. This time that was not the case.

This time she found that on the left side of my rear jaw the salivary gland (the parotid) was slightly swollen compared to the right side. She didn’t feel any lumps and said, “It’s probably nothing.” For most people, that phrase might be very comforting, but for cancer patients it sounds the alarm. After all, we have heard that line before. When you first go to see the doctor and they haven’t run any tests, they don’t want to frighten you with all the negative possibilities running through their heads, so they say, “It’s probably nothing, but we will want to run some tests.” Several times after that, when little spots showed up on my lungs or liver I would hear, “It’s probably nothing, but we will retest you in three months or six months to see if there are any changes.” Even when those tests come out fine, you’ve still gone through all the “what ifs.” You wonder why there are new spots, what could they be, and then you pray for good results. The good results that allow you to resume your daily life and not have to think about this for another year.

So my doctor, who I love, seems a little perplexed by her findings. I can see the wheels spin in her head as she searches for answers, but none are forthcoming. As she tries to reassure me that this is probably her tendency to be overly cautious and that I shouldn’t worry, she mentions she may want to have the area tested. She isn’t sure what would be the best test, a CT scan or ultrasound. In the end, she says she will consult with a colleague about it, she may just have me return to see her in two months. I have to call her today to see what her final decision is in exploring what is “probably nothing.” Meanwhile, my dormant paranoia has awaken with this turn or events.

And, since Thursday, when I left her office, this minor swelling is all I can think about. It’s barely noticeable. I didn’t see it when I looked in the mirror before. I don’t feel anything, no discomfort. Now I can see it. I study my face to see if it’s changed or gotten bigger. I look it up online, which is the worse thing you can do. Every cause possible is listed, none of them say “probably nothing.” It’s always something.

No matter if you are 5 years, 10 years 15 years or more “cancer free,” you are never really free of cancer. The thought of it possibly returning haunts you. After all, no one can tell you why you got it in the first place. It’s unpredictable. And the truth is once you have had cancer, you are at a higher risk for other forms of cancer.

So, I will call my doctor this afternoon to see what she has decided to do. She has decided on the ultrasound.

UPDATE: June 19th, went for the ultrasound hoping to be done with this year's round of tests. The technician spent 15 to 20 minutes scaning my neck and I was getting a bad feeling. Of course she is not allowed to tell me anything, a doctor has to interpret the results. But then she says, I'll be back, I'm going to get the doctor. Well that can't be good. The doctor arrives within 5 minutes, that seems like an eternity. She repeats the test. She asks when I noticed the slight swelling on the left side of my face. I tell her I didn't, I only noticed it last week after my doctor saw it and wanted to check it out. And where is the swelling she asks (so did the techician). The swelling is very slight and hard to see, so I place my hand in the area. She proceeds to scan the area over and over. Finally, she looks at me and says she sees something, but she can't say what it is. The results are inconclusive, but she will study the images again and write her report. The best she can tell me is that I will probably have to go and get a CT scan of the area. That will undoubtedly be her recommendation to my doctor. I can feel the anxiety building up in me already. That's not what I wanted to hear. I get a little emotional. Neither the doctor nor technician want to deal with that, they are busy and maybe behind schedule. Now I have to wait for my doctor to call and tell me more or less the same bit of news. I don't think she will tell me it's probably nothing this time. This time there is something, we just don't know what it is yet.

In the meantime, while I wait for my doctor to call, I am breaking the doctor patient cardinal rule of not doing research on the internet. What else can I do while I am sitting here?  So I look up everything on salivary glands, untrasound tests, swelling of the parotid gland. What I learned is the salivary glands do get tumors, most of them turn out to benign. Reassuring, but I have a history of cancer. Ultrasound tests are supposed to pick up on tumors. There was definitiely something there, but my test was inconclusive. Does that mean it's not a tumor? I also learned that salivary glands can develop stones, like the kidneys. Ultrasound tests do not idenify calcifications. Could that be what the doctor saw but couldn't diagnosis from the test? Who knows? I'm just twiddling my thumbs waiting for the call to set the appointment for the CT Scan.

UPDATE #2 - Monday, June 22nd. Spoke to my doctor about the ultrasound being inconclusive. There is something there that's 3/4 of an inch big. She says it still could be nothing, but she is sending me for an MRI on Wednesday, June 24th. I guess we are pulling out the big guns since we skipped over the CT scan. The MRI imaging gives 3D pictures so hopefully we will know how to proceed next. If it's something requiring a closer look, she will send me to a specialist, probably a ENT onologist.  Here we go again. Thank God my doctor is thorough and cautious. No one else has been able to see this slight swelling without me pointing it out. If anything she caught it early.

UPDATE #3 I went for my MRI on Wednesday, June 24th and promptly called the doctor's office on Thursday afternoon for the results. I didn't get a call back so I waited till Friday afternoon and placed another call. My call was not returned. Now, I know I have to face the weekend with anxiety and have to hold it together until I can speak to the doctor on Monday. I have refrained from doing internet searches and tried to distract myself with hobbies and keeping busy. Sometimes it's hard to breathe. I hate waiting. I have no choice. It's finally Monday and I'm hoping to get a call in the morning. Nothing. By three in the afternoon I am getting antsy and call again. The secretary tells me the doctor is out of the country until next Monday and she will try to have the covering doctor call me with the results. I'm stunned and in disbelief. I don't know what to think. I don't know what to do except to wait for a stranger, a doctor I don't even know, to call me and explain my test results. I have convinced myself it's something serious and want to move forward, but I have to wait. I'm exhausted. I'm worried. I'm scared.

UPDATE #4 Thursday, July 1st- Just got off the phone with the Doctor's assistant who emailed the doctor concerning my MRI test results. The doctor said there is a tumor that is probably benign, close to or on the carotid artery and/or facial nerve. She is communicating with a specialist who is reviewing the tests. We'll see what they decide soon enough. I wish the results were posted so now I can read exactly what the location is. This news was supposed to put my mind at ease.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

My Mother's "Third" Language . . .



I read a blog recently that reminded me so much of my mother and her "third" language. My mother's first language was the Sicilian dialect of Italy, her second language was Brooklynese, a corrupted form of English. Her third language was Italian and American Idioms and Proverbs. I acquired all three at a very early age from my mother because we were together virtually 24/7. My mother loved to use idioms and proverbs to make her point or for special emphasis. You could not argue with her because these expressions were so well known and widely used that they must be true, right?

For example, my mother would ask me or my brother to help her with something or she would need help and we were blind to it. It could be something as simple as helping her carry groceries, drying a few dishes, etc. When we didn't rise to the occasion, as most kids don't, she would pull out her popular Italian expression: Two parents can take care of 100 children, but 100 children can't take care of two parents." Did I mention my mother had a Ph.D. in guilt? Another one of her Italian expressions was used when we would would tell her we would finish something later. Postponing anything never sat well with my mother as she thought we would never get back to it. She was probably right. "There's an old expression in Italy, while you are dancing keep dancing." I interpreted that to mean once you sit down and take a break you won't get up again.  Then, if one of her friends or family asked her to do something and she really couldn't help them, we would hear: "You can do 100 good things for people and they forget it, but if there is one thing you can't do, that's what they remember." When we would take big helpings of food (and my mother always knew exactly how much we could eat) she would tell us, "You're eyes are bigger than your stomach." Of course my mom was always right. And God forbid I didn't get 100 on a test, just a 95, and I told her about all the kids who got less than me, she would always say, "Look at the ones who did better than you, not the ones who did worse."

My mother was never at a loss for an English idiom or proverb either. They rolled off her tongue in practically every conversation. "It's raining cats and dogs!" "Absence makes the heart grow stronger." "Actions speak louder than words." "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," "Better safe than sorry." "Easier said than done." There are just too many to count. These nice and neat little packages of wisdom spiced up many of our little talks. Without even knowing it, I was using them myself and with my slipping memory I sometimes confuse two and combine them much to my daughter's delight. Apparently she has them instilled in her too and she immediately recognizes when I make a mistake and corrects me.

Now you might think that's all there is to it, but no. About seven years ago I took a French class in college on proverbs and idioms, expecting to learn a few from the French culture. Seems that most cultures have their own ways of saying the same identical things. So the professor gave us a list of French proverbs to translate into the English! Now my "third" language, which I learned from my mother, came in very handy. I had no trouble running down almost the entire list and finding the English equivalent for the French proverb. However, most of my young classmates had never heard of the English proverbs and even when they heard them they had no clue what they meant. One asked me, "What does kick the bucket mean?" I explained that one and a few more and she just looked perplexed. Nothing made sense to her. How can they figure out the equivalent proverb when they never heard of them before? I kept raising my hand, all by myself, to give the answer the professor was looking for. Finally I was embarrassed and said she could call on me if she needed a response. Half way through the exercise she turned to me and said she should have let me teach the class that day.

I thought to myself that it's a shame these young people have no clue about all these proverbs and no use for them either. They just shrugged them off and were happy to move on. Most of these tiny bites of wisdom are easy to remember and still apply today. They are timeless. Many cultures thought enough of them to have their own variation to express the same piece of wisdom. They must have been appreciated and passed down from generation to generation for a very long time, but like with many other traditions and values in this day and age, they have fallen to the wayside.



Saturday, June 6, 2015

60 and Catching Up on Doctor Appointments . . .

 
"It's a gonna happen to you."
From the movie Marty with Ernest Borgnine
which I highly recommend!

I don’t know why they call younger women high maintenance, but they ain’t seen nothing yet. I’ve written about this before, but getting old is not cheap and the amount of work that goes into it is very time consuming and stressful. I have noticed, from the time I turned 30 and every decade after, there has been a decline in perfect health. It starts gradually, so gradually that you might not even notice at first. Maybe it’ll happen when you pick up your child’s medicine bottle and can’t be sure you are reading the dosage right. And, because it affects your child, you make an appointment for the eye doctor, who tells you you now need mild glasses. Those glasses will be forever “tweaked” year after glorious year. Let’s fast forward, shall we?

What happens in your forties and fifties? Well there is premenopause that can last about seven years before you get to the end of this most uncomfortable journey. Your flow may last a lot longer, mine was up to ten days and came about every two to three weeks. Then there are the hot flashes and night sweats and mood swings. Your body has to adjust to the change and so does your family. “Open the damn window, close the window. Is it hot in here or is it me?” Any good gynecologist will advise you to get a bone density test to see if you have osteoporosis and to what degree. Well I went for mine and discovered I have the bones of an 80 year old. Another prescription for Fosamax and calcium is required to stop bone loss. I need to eat better and exercise . . . blah, blah, blah. I know this already, I just have another good reason to get motivated. Of course, being diagnosed with a rare cancer at age 50 wasn’t in the plan, but it happened. The only good thing that happened at that time was my doctor, who I love, asked me if I was 40 and when I said “No, 50,” she said no and looked at my chart to check it and appeared stunned. I also discovered during these years that I had some hearing loss, but nothing to worry about, I don’t need a hearing aid just yet. So I expected, when I turned 60, to face another series of medical issues and my body did not let me down.

About a year and a half ago I discovered that my blood pressure was high and went to the doctor to have that checked out. It was pretty damn high. Here comes the prescription pad for a water pill. Guess what? The old cholesterol is high too, very high. I tell the doctor I’ll try to lower it by diet (like that was going to work). He reluctantly agreed and scheduled me for another blood test soon. Suffice to say, my plan didn’t work and instead I get a script for Lipitor. Good news! I am very responsive to Lipitor. My cholesterol drops dramatically by the next blood test. Eventually, he cuts the dosage in half, but I remind myself I am 60.

But it never ends there does it? The last two years I have been complaining nonstop about my eye glasses. I wear bifocals and kept saying they put the line in the wrong place. It’s aggravating. I just got a new pair a couple of weeks ago and I am having the same issues. WTH is going on??? Yesterday I went with my daughter to the ophthalmologist for her eye exam and to offer a second opinion on new frames she wanted to pick out. As he is talking to her, he turns to look at me and says I should get new glasses. Even when it’s not MY appointment, they find something wrong with me. I tell him I just did and I’m not happy with them. He says he can see that because I keep poking them to keep them up on the face. He says the metal frames are heavy in the front and will keep sliding down. Besides that, when a person is in their fifties and sixties they can’t use bifocals any more. No? No. How old are you he asks. I reply, “I’m sixty. So he says, “Okay so you look young for your age.” But he still insists I need “progressive” lens for in between distances. Just great, now my eyes are playing tricks on me. So he says he can give me a good deal in July, plastic designer frames and progressive lens, when they have their sale. Given my current glasses cost me nothing I may go back and see what he can do to help me see better.

Today I went for my umpteenth CT scan in the last eleven years. It’s a precautionary check-up that I guess will go on for the rest of my life. I’ll see my doctor this coming Thursday for the results. Hopefully, it will just be my “well visit” once again. But there is always a cloud over my head. It’s always something.

Now I will get on my soapbox for a minute. For all you young women this is my parting advice to you. I know you are busy . . . very busy . . ., usually taking care of others, but you really should consider this now, while it’s not too hard. Take care of yourself now. Try to buy healthy foods and leave out snacks, you can‘t eat what isn‘t there. Eating well and giving your body the proper nutrition leads you to good health and energy. Get as much sleep as you need. Sleep is very important for your coping skills and handling stress. Find time in your regular every day schedule to do some exercise you enjoy, even if it’s walking 30 minutes a day for starters. Exercise also gives you an energy boost and can be addicting if you do it daily. Go for your annual physicals and other exams you may need for your stage in life. Do not neglect yourself. Little things turn into big things, curable things turn into chronic and even fatal conditions. As you get older, these things are harder and harder to do. You can make a lifestyle change and be a role model for your children, family and friends. You can be a better, healthier you. Do it! Take it from a wise, high maintenance, old lady who wants to keep her Facebooks friends healthy and happy!

Friday, May 22, 2015

Josh Duggar, Alleged Child Molester



Meet the Bible quoting Duggar Family: Two religious, procreating parents, 19 home schooled, church going children whose names all start with “J.” Lots of rules including no hand holding on all chaperoned dates, no hugging and absolutely no kissing until the wedding ceremony is complete. Josh Duggar, the oldest son, and his wife Anna, never kissed until their wedding to maintain their purity . . . but then there’s this . . .

19 Kids and Counting turns to Five Victims and Counting. Twelve years ago, when Josh Duggar was 14 or 15, he molested five young girls several times, the police report indicated they were his sisters. From the report, “The alleged victims are [names blacked out] who live with their parents Michelle and Jim Bob.” His father found out from one of his son’s victims who told him she had been touched inappropriately. When confronted, he confessed to his father Jim, who waited over one year before turning his son into the authorities. Instead of calling police, Jim discussed the matter with Church officials and decided to send Josh to do manual labor for three months as a punishment. When Jim did report it over a year later, the officer investigating the case was himself arrested for child pornography and the investigation was derailed. Eventually the statute of limitations’ for prosecution expired. Josh Duggar went on his merry way to marry, have children and accuse gay people of being child molesters. Go figure.

As I always say, the truth always comes out. Josh and his family, making tons of money on the reality show “19 Kids and Counting,” probably thought this was all behind them. So they continued having children and failed to protect their daughters from their oldest son, Josh, who was living in the household. Who really knows the number of victims that were harmed? Josh admitted to 5 victims when he was 15. He has had twelve years to continue along this path with no accountability. If in fact he is a child molester, we know that there is no successful cure for that. Therapy doesn’t fix this problem and he didn’t even see a therapist. He was sent away for three months to do manual labor as punishment. And then, his parents probably tried to instill the fear of God into him so he would stop. Who knows if that worked or if more victims will eventually come forward in the days and weeks ahead? He has resigned as Executive Director of the Family Resource Council, so as not to have his scandal impact their homophobic work against the gay community. Of course we wouldn’t want Josh’s scandal to taint this ignorant organization. I wonder if they will take a stand against Josh, one of their own and an alleged child molester? Or is it their mission to solely persecute gays people and accuse all of them of being child molesters?

This situation is disturbing on so many levels. All of the parents’ concern seems to have been directed solely at Josh and getting him back on the path of salvation. Poor Josh who made a “mistake” several times with several of his sisters. Poor Josh who apparently wasn’t chaperoned carefully enough. Poor Josh who was probably taking an active part in helping to “raise” his siblings, as Michelle was too busy getting pregnant every year to pay much attention to them. I’ve read plenty about this family the past three days. The mother, Michelle, is sorry. The father, Jim, is sorry. Josh’s wife, Anna, is sorry. Josh is sorry. They all came to Josh’s defense. He lost his way, but he found his path back to the Lord and the Family Resource Council. Halleluiah! Can I get an Amen? Guess who I haven’t read one word about? The victims. Not one word about any of them, except for one who asked that the police report, with her name in it, be destroyed so the media couldn’t have a field day with it. The judge agreed.

I have not heard of any counseling or therapy for the girls molested by their oldest brother several times. How are they coping? What were they told? Why wasn’t CPS called in? On what planet is it ever okay for the victims of a child molester to live in the same household as their molester? Who could these girls turn to? They were home schooled and only had contact with the church community. Are we supposed to take the word of these parents or Josh, that his perverted behavior stopped? How would they know? Even if it did stop, these girls are forever damaged, their innocence lost. We don’t know the details, however Josh is the oldest child and he was 14 at the time, the girls were all younger than that. It’s beyond disgusting. Now he has a daughter of his own and another daughter on the way (in addition to two sons). Are his daughters safe? Who knows?

And the network that airs their reality show, TLC, finally decided to pull the plug on their show. I guess the feedback from advertisers and viewers convinced them they could no longer continue with show. Comments on their page have been 81% negative. Well they got plenty of years out of this family. They shouldn’t complain. They will find another large family where all the kids names start with “J” . . . oh, wait a minute, they already have the singing Willis family. They only have 12 kids, but they are entertaining, and their names all start with “J.” So bye, bye Duggars. Hope to see you in court and a judge orders Michelle and Jim to put a big chunk of their money in trust for the victims, who will surely need it for therapy in the future.

Here is the article that broke the story In Touch Magazine

 

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Memories of My Aunt Mary . . .

Aunt Mary's 90th Birthday, February 14, 2014



My Aunt Mary passed away on Saturday, May 9th. She was 91 years old. She had been sick off and on for a long while, but I believe she fought to stay with us as long as she could. She had been in and out of the hospitals with heart attacks and pneumonia a few times in the past two or three years. She bounced back and recovered. I don’t know how she did it, but I think a lot of it had to do with her easy going personality and her love of life. It suddenly hit me yesterday morning that at this point in time, the person I have known the longest in my lifetime was my Aunt Mary. I remember a picture of her holding me one hot August day when I was 12 days old. It was my baptism day, and she was my Godmother. She is the last of her generation in my family. All of the aunts and uncles I grew up with, and my own parents, are all long gone . . . gone, but not forgotten.

My Aunt Mary had a heart of gold. She took care of my ailing grandmother (her mother on-law) when her own three daughters could not. She loved children. Even at four years old I knew that because I ran away from home one day and went straight to Aunt Mary, who lived in the apartment below us. Of course she took me right in, sympathized with my plight, and let my mother know where I was on the sly. I remember her taking me to the circus for my birthday one year. I had never been to one before. Another time she made arrangements to take five of us (two of her own children and three others) to see Bozo the Clown. She took us out of school that day and we traveled by subway to Manhattan to be on the show. That was a big deal back in the day. She loved parties and looked for any occasion or celebration to host one. She enjoyed having a house full of family, talking, laughing, eating. Always good times and memories.

Aunt Mary loved cooking and her cast iron skillet. When we were in elementary school, my brother and I would go downstairs and wait for Aunt Mary’s kids to get ready so we could all walk together. Every morning I witnessed the same thing. My Aunt Mary was busy cooking up some fried eggs for her son, who then ate them while watching cartoons and dunking his toast in the runny yolks. I don’t know why that impressed me so much except I didn’t care for eggs, but she made them look good.

My first memory of the smell of pine trees was at my Aunt Mary’s house. We had an artificial tree, but she always got a real one every year. I loved it. The scent filled up the whole apartment. She would always let the kids help decorate the tree. The best part was when she gave us the tinsel. We would throw handfuls on the tree, in clumps. She would laugh and take it off, showing us how to hang a strand at a time on every branch. Till this day whenever I smell fresh pine it takes me back to my childhood and Aunt Mary’s tree.

New Year’s Eve also has special memories for me it thanks to my aunt. We would all get together at her house after dinner. The adults would play cards all night, while we watched Guy Lombardo and waited for the countdown. Aunt Mary got us hats and streamers and confetti to throw at midnight. Then, at midnight, after the ball dropped in Times Square, she would take out all the noisemakers and her pots and spoons and give one to each of the five of us. She took the five of us outside to bang pots and welcome the new year. We knocked ourselves out because at the end of that tradition, the adults were still busy playing cards, but the kids were getting sleepy. Aunt Mary took us into the bedrooms and let us lay down and close our eyes. We slept until the adults were done with poker and took us to our own beds.

My most cherished memories of my Aunt Mary would have to be her Thanksgiving dinners. I remember them vividly. For me, it was the best way to kick off the holiday season. I would wake up on Thanksgiving and watch the Macy’s parade which ended at noon. Then we would all go downstairs to Aunt Mary’s. Aunt Mary had already been up since the crack of dawn, stuffing the huge turkey and roasting it. She also had a big pot of meat sauce cooking on the stove. It was a double feast! I was too busy stuffing my face to realize how much work went into making those Thanksgivings what they were. Two dinners, a traditional Italian meal and a traditional Thanksgiving meal, bread, fruit and nuts, coffee and dessert. The shopping and preparation before hand. The packing of leftovers and clean up afterwards. There were anywhere from 12 to 16 people there every year. I don’t know how she did it, but she did. And playing in the background was always the Laurel and Hardy movie “The March of the Wooden Soldiers,” that we never got tired of watching. Once the food was all put away, the adults played poker, all except for Aunt Mary. She “hung out” with the kids teaching us card games and singing a couple of choruses of, “Oh My Darlin’ Clementine.” Thanksgiving lasted from noon to midnight, but the memories of the sights and smells of food, the laughter of family, the way my Aunt Mary made us all feel . . . those things will be with us forever.

Eventually, as I got to my early 20’s, I realized how much it meant to me to be able to have all those wonderful Thanksgivings. My mother was hosting Christmas dinner one year and I thought it was the perfect time to let Aunt Mary know how much we appreciated all she did for us over the years. I got together with my brother and cousin to buy her a gold bracelet. I bought a special card and wrote a personal message in it and we handed it to her that day. Her eyes filled with tears as she read the message. I think she was stunned to learn how much we treasured those days and all the love she put into them, and we still do.

To know my Aunt Mary was to love her. She touched many lives. She will be greatly missed. Today we have to say good-bye. Our hearts are broken. There will be tears and sadness, even though I don’t think she would want that for us. She would want us to remember all the happy memories and sing a round of “Oh My Darlin’ Clementine.”

 

Thursday, April 30, 2015

That's Entertainment?

 
I have been watching “Everybody Love Raymond,” for almost 20 years. The show ended in 2005, but I still watch an average of an episode or two a day. I was saddened to learn that one of the twin boys, Sawyer Sweeten, who played Geoffrey Barone, committed suicide. He started on the show when he was a year and a half old. He spent half his life on the set and the other half living a private life. It’s upsetting and shocking to hear of someone so young, with so much living ahead of them, ending their life. I can only hope his family will be allowed to grieve in peace and heal from this devastating loss. His death, like that of so many other actors, raised questions in my mind about the lifestyle for which there are probably no answers.

The entertainment industry is exciting. Everyone aspiring to be an actor would love to get their big break. They want their share of fame and fortune. They want to do what they love to do, act. There is a lot of money to be made if you make a name for yourself, which isn’t easy. You get lots of attention and adoring fans. A lot of times the focus is on the “up” side of the business. But, if everything is so great about it, why do we hear so many negative things associated with it? Is it all worth it? I don’t know, for many it seems to be.

When I think about a career in entertainment, I think about the high divorce rate among actors. There are very few happy marriages that stand the test of time. I haven’t researched it, but it seems as though the divorce rate for actors is even higher than the norm (which is over 50%). Maybe it’s due to the separation from all the traveling necessary to make movies? Maybe all those hot sexy scenes between co-workers end up going a step too far? I recall reading about Meryl Streep, a favorite of mine, who has been married 35 years to sculptor Don Gummer. I remember thinking the key to her long marriage was that she married someone outside of the “industry,” and she lived in the Midwest where she could give her children a normal childhood away from Hollywood. Meryl also said she would not take jobs that took her away from home for long and would take others, that weren’t the best roles, so she could be close to her family. Meryl seemed to have figured out the secret that other stars had not. I thought Meryl’s marriage had been unscathed by the Hollywood lifestyle. But recently I read that years ago, only nine years into her marriage, Meryl allegedly had an affair with Jack Nicholson. This is said to have happened back in 1987 while they were making the movie, “Ironweed.” A new biography has been written about Jack that spilled the details of the affair. And, although Meryl and her husband had gotten through her alleged indiscretion back in 1987, the book has reopened a sore subject and old wounds, and now even her marriage is reportedly in serious trouble. There goes my theory. Now I have to wonder, if sooner or later, almost every star will have at least one divorce under his or her belt.

Another sacrifice anyone famous has to make is giving up their privacy. There is no such thing as privacy when your name is a household word. Everything about your personal life is fair game for the media. Every move you make is documented. Every mistake exploited. You cannot even grieve the loss of a loved one without your phone ringing off the hook or microphones being shoved in your face wanting to know “how you feel.” The relentless press hounds you wherever you go. This is what I believe cost Princess Diana her life in the end, and two young boys their mother. Privacy is the one thing money can’t seem to buy and the price one pays for fame. Is it worth it?

What about life in the fast lane? The overuse of drugs and alcohol and all the partying? How many times have we heard of a celebrity going to rehab? How many have totaled cars? How many have died from overdoses? Are the drugs just more accessible to celebrities or do they just have the financial means to buy them for recreational purposes? Aren’t their lives exciting enough without needing another kind of “high.” They should be living to enjoy the fruits of their labor, but instead they are dying because of it.

And this leads me to wonder about depression and why so many celebrities are afflicted with it? Is the incidence of depression higher among celebrities than the general population? I don’t know. Research seems to indicate that there is a higher risk of suicide among people who are “creative,” in fact, as much as 50% higher. They also say that people with depression tend to self medicate with drugs and alcohol. But no one really has the answers at this point, at least not the answers needed to help these individuals before they can no longer cope with life. It’s very sad that some of the very people who have everything to live for end up dying so young. Sawyer was just one of many. His family says depression runs in the family, so maybe Sawyer’s death wasn’t related to being an actor at all. Maybe being an entertainer has nothing to do with why actors commit suicide. Maybe the industry just attracts creative people who suffer from depression. Maybe people who hate the way they feel as themselves and try to escape those feelings by acting as someone else?

No one knows how different celebrities’ lives would have been if they hadn’t chosen to be actors and lived another lifestyle, a more normal lifestyle. I have been watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I discovered that two of the wives are sisters and were on Little House on the Prairie, as children. The older of the two sisters, Kim Richards, is currently in rehab after a recent session with Dr. Phil. Kim Richards has been an alcoholic for many years and has probably abused pain medication. I recently read that as a child actress she may have been raped and sexually molested by men on the set. Her mother reportedly told her the abuse was okay. It was part of the price she had to pay for getting jobs as an actress. A high and damaging price that she has been paying decades later. What would her life have been like hadn’t she been pushed into show business and pressured to do whatever it takes to get ahead? We don’t like to think about this very ugly side of the industry, but it unfortunately it’s no secret that things like this often happened years ago.

That's entertainment.

May you rest in peace, Sawyer Sweeten.


Thursday, April 23, 2015

Why Am I Watching Season 7 of RHONY?

Countess LuAnn Wearing her "tribal" necklace!
I add this picture for my daughter because she gets a kick out of LuAnn's crazy necklaces
and because I heard LuAnn  (of "Money Doesn't Buy You Class fame) mentioned one season she was part Native American (probably .000058 per cent, but still).

Well the obvious answer as to why I am “watching” is because my daughters like to put it on and make fun of these middle aged women who are trying to make a show about nothing. They have watched for years and are probably a little addicted to the “drama.” I watch Mob Wives, so there could never been enough drama on any of the REAL Housewives shows to shock me. But I do enjoy spending time with my girls and hearing them laugh and exchange snaky remarks at the latest antics of these season’s cast.

I should warn you that if you don’t watch the show then you probably won’t enjoy the blog and it’s references. That being said, the season is off to a slow start. What else is new? And they have been throwing in way too many clips from past seasons which is enough to confuse anyone who didn’t watch those seasons or has a lousy memory.

This season is about Cougars and divorcees mostly. The she-wolves pack is single and on the hunt for mates. The age of the potential “hook-up” is of no consequence, in fact, the younger the better. These 50+ year old desperate housewives are seeking out men in their 20’s and having flings. Well, the stallions have to sow their wild oats some place, might as well be in an old hag. In this group we have Sonja, who drinks and sleeps around and is applauded for her conquests. Then we have the Countess Lu Ann, who recently broke up with a French David Schwimmer look-a-like named Jacques, and is currently on the prowl for a replacement. Ramona Singer, who has flaunted her “happy” marriage to Mario for years, only to find her husband guilty of cheating and possibly fathering a baby out of wedlock, dumped his sorry ass and is now practicing the art of flirting with any man who locks eyes with her. It should be noted that after a night of drinking a man will lock eyes with a pig wearing pink lipstick if it gets them into bed, but Ramona finds this flattering. Of course, best selling author, Carole Radziwell, in on the hunt, but she is a little more discreet about it.

In the other group we have two married and boring women, Heather and Kristin. We have Ramona’s sister, who hasn’t said a word yet; and Ramona’s friend Dorinda who is dating a chubby, older man who must have money. Dorinda has a big mouth and she isn’t afraid to use it. She is an equal opportunity “insulter,” and never misses a chance to let anyone know what she is thinking. The most interesting thing she has said so far, during a spat between two of the other wives, is that she can’t stand all the “back and forth.” Apparently, Dorinda has never seen the RHONY and either way, she is definitely on the wrong show if that is a pet peeve of hers.

I don’t know where to put Bethenny, who has returned after being gone a few years making money and having her own talk show. She is a loose cannon who doesn’t seem to like anyone or want to hear what they have to say. However, there are no shortage of words when it comes to her giving others her opinion. I am on the fence about her. She will either make the season interesting or provoke me to throw Aviva’s leg at my television. That remains to be seen at the moment.

I’m glad I got this off my chest. I feel a lot better now.