Tori Spelling and the Boston Globe

Hey all... and don't worry, there's a bunch of posts coming in the next couple of days. I'll be caught up to April!!! Woo hoo!!!

Meanwhile, I'm famous... in Boston, anyway.

http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2008/08/20/cancer_blogs_become_part_of_treatment/?s_campaign=8315

It's an article all about blogging. Figured it'd be stupid not to post it here.

Good morning...

Hello, faceless internet reader. Sitting down at your desk with your starbucks in hand. Not quite yet ready to go to work, yet not quite able to advertise it either. You've checked your email. Gone to cnn.com. Maybe perez hilton. "Ooh, what do we have here?"

Yep, procratinators around the globe, unite. Tons of posts below. I'm caught up almost to March now!!!!

I'm alive! I'm alive!

Okay, so if you're still peeking in on this wondering, "Where the fuck is Courtney?"

I'm here.

What have I been doing all this time?

I've been on strike
I've procrastinated
I've had my ovaries removed
I've been on vacation
I dealt with major damage to my house
I got knocked up
I got very much UN-knocked up
I rediscovered my love of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes
I've been training to bike 200 hundred miles
I've been on the radio and TV
I've lost my job
I've been happy about said job loss
I got a new job
I switched careers
I did tons of breast cancer stuff
I experienced girl on girl action at a family wedding... (well, not me personally, but still)

What? WHAT?! WHAT?!?!?!? You say... Back the truck up, mack. Hit the tape deck and rewind, Casey Casem.

Relax, internet readers... all will be explained.

Over the next couple of weeks, I will be FINALLY posting all the posts I'd only half written this whole time. In order for it to make sense for any Susie Breast Cancer who stumbles upon this tome of wisdom, I wll be posting them according to their original dates. Starting all the way back in October/November. So what do you do if you're trying to catch up?

Scroll the hell down until you get to the first post you don't recognize. Read. Repeat.

Happy reading :)

Benign Neglect

If you talk to my little brother, the youngest of 4, he'll tell you he suffered from benign neglect. By the time he rolled along, my parents were too tired and too busy to pay as much attention to him. He'll tell you that's not always a bad thing. He got away with a whole lot more.

Some of you have been asking me for more pictures! Well, here's some pictures of our little case of benign neglect... Rugby. As opposed to the other dogs, our picture taking has gone from zillions with Kylie, our first, to just a few of Rugby. I think we went about 6 months without nary a candid. But anyway, he's turning into quite the nice dog. He's about 9 months old here.

Yes, he sits on the couch. Kind of like a person. He's not really into boundaries.

The oldest and the baby... he's bigger than Kylie already.

The hazing's a bitch

You want to cause a ruckus at an event? Wear a t-shirt with swear words on it. When I was in college, I was on the student activities funding committee... I know - sounds like a ton of fun. We were charged with giving out hundreds of thousands of dollars to student organizations. We read dozens of grant proposals, and in a two week long marathon, we heard proposals and made recommendations. And got a little slap happy. After groups would leave after making their sometimes ridiculous proposals (I'm sorry, but I am SO not giving the Young Republicans 50 grand for Charlton Heston to come and spew his garbage. That bitch is an alum. Get him to come for free) we would talk amongst ourselves...

"Well, when we fuck this group up the ass and deny most of their proposal, will we do it with a little lube or no lube?"

Answer: No lube. Denied.

We got so feisty and we had bonded so much, we made t-shirts to wear at our presentation to the student government. "SAFB: Free the money bitches!"

You would have thought we spun those hefty tees ourselves from looms of gold. Pictures in the paper with BITCHES splayed prominently across my (unbeknown st to me cancer growing) chest.

It began a long history of me and inappropriate words in print.

So, as I grow older and "ahem" wiser... it came time to design a t-shirt for the Atlanta contingent of the Young Survival Coalition to wear at our annual conference. A few women had joked about never being in a sorority. Well, drawing on my sorority knowledge as well, I made up t-shirts with big greek letters on the front standing for Atlanta Young Survivors.

And on the back?

Initiation Sucks and the Hazing's a Bitch.

But this sisterhood is for life.

Never mind the cheesy sisterhood closer... it was all about the naughty words. We wore these bad boys to the conference - all 12 of us, and again - looms of gold.

It's like Beevis and Butthead...

hu hu hu. You said "sucks."

hu hu "and bitch"

I recently returned from the 8th Annual Conference for Young Women Affected by Breast Cancer. Famous t-shirt aside, it was a great conference. But different. Last year I was mostly alone and just getting into this "Cancer" thing. I took tons of notes, I soaked it all up. This year, I shepherded a dozen women from Atlanta. I didn't learn as much as I made sure the people I helped bring were getting something out of it. I met up with "cancer friends" who I now see regularly at these things. Instead of it being this whole world I had only discovered, it was a bit like coming back to your hometown for a reunion. Well, one full of people you actually like, that is.

Check us out, bitches!!!

Y-Me

When I was on strike and I had a lot of time on my hands, I decided to take on some more volunteer work. See, when I was diagnosed, I didn't do any "support" stuff. I did go online at breastcancer.org and chatted in a chat room. But other than a couple very wonderful women who emailed me through my initial steps, I didn't do support groups, go to Gilda's club, contact Komen, race or make strides for anything. I just did my thing.

And upon reflection, it was pretty fucking isolating. I mean, I lived 3 hours from where I got treated. I didn't have close friends anywhere near me. In fact, I didn't even have a friend I could call where I lived. I knew no one who had had breast cancer - no one I knew well, that is. And I sure as hell didn't have any exposure to anyone my age with breast cancer.

I had my husband. And my family. Well, most of them, at least. And I had a good friend who had recently finished treatment for lymphoma. Both he and my aunt were good for commiserating about chemo. Neither of them had disfiguring surgery. Or hormonal therapy for 5 years. On the whole, I didn't really have a "community" belong to - people to connect with. Nothing.

And I never realized how much I needed that until I finished treatment. Ironic, huh?

So as I get further and further out from treatment, it's occurred to me how much I want to help other people along the path. So I've been doing that in numerous ways... one of them is currently my favorite way to volunteer.

I am now a trained Y-Me peer hotline counselor. What? Well, let's say you have breast cancer. Or think you might. Or have a friend who does. And you have no one to talk to. You go online and search for breast cancer support. You might find the Y-Me website. Y-Me is the oldest breast cancer support organization in existence. Anyway, you see on their site that you can call this hotline anytime, 24-7 and speak to a breast cancer survivor. So you pick up your phone and call 1-800-221-2141 and...

"Hi, this is Courtney. How can I help you?"

Insert imaginary conversation here.

So yeah. I flew to Chicago where they trained me in everything from basic cancer knowledge to how to deal with crank callers. I am currently in the process of setting up my home network to accept calls via VOIP. As in, I sit in my jammies and answer calls through my computer.

Yep, that's right. Volunteering from your house. In your yoga pants.
Helping people from the comfort of your own home.

Fan - freaking - tastic.

So if you have breast cancer and need help, give us a call. I just may be on the other line.

Why, oh why do I open my big mouth?

I know, I know... it's a question you've been asking yourself now for years.

Even in grade school, when I got straight A's in subjects such as spelling and handwriting, I got 2s and 3s (scale of 1-4) on effort and conduct.

In short, I'm a slacker with a big mouth. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

So what's the most recent incident? Well, when I was at the YSC conference, someone was talking about the Tour de Pink, a 200 mile bike ride from Hershey, PA to New York City. It's the Young Survival Coalition's annual event to raise funds and awareness for young women with breast cancer. Sounds cool, I said. Wow - 200 miles.

Shit, I'll do it! Sign me up.

Never mind the fact I haven't been on a bike since I got my driver's license. Or that I'm not in great shape. Or that I have a serious problem with full body spandex, for charity or otherwise. Sure, let's do it.

So I'm going to ride 200 miles on a bike. Over "rolling hills." In cycling shorts.

I'm a fucking moron. Seriously. I should have jumped from another plan if I wanted to prove anything else.

Thankfully, I'm not the only one. I'll be one of 150 riders. Two of which will be my husband and my father. I know, a collective sigh of cuteness for my daddy riding with me. My dad's into cycling. He'll be fine. Alan has a bike we bought when we first moved back to the states.

He's ridden it 4 times in 4 years.

But Alan's super excited. I think it's just an excuse for more toys. Shoes and clippy things and jerseys, oh my!

So Alan and I recently went out and purchased two road bikes They are much fancier than my schwinn 10-speed. We bought them on the one day it snowed in Atlanta. And Alan insisted that we put on hats and gloves and ride in freezing cold.

Great. This will be so fun.

Will there be drinks at this thing?