Are You At Risk for Lung Cancer?

If you're at risk, how do you find out, and if so, what can you do about it? The Lung Cancer Alliance just launched an awesome new section of their website that answers those questions as well as presenting all of the latest screening and early detection options for those at risk. Check it out!

This weekend, I became a Twit

I just got back from BlogHer, the 3-day conference where 1500 female bloggers (mostly "Mommy Bloggers) take over a hotel for something that kind of resembles a high school reunion/sorority party/Mary Kay convention/Baby Fair.

I knew I'd come back transformed in some way and I have. I've become a Twit. I am no longer a Twitter neophyte. Oh no. This weekend, I used the service to find a Blogher blogger on the outbound flight, make dinner plans with perfect strangers, stalk a group of savings bloggers, take notes at the conference, re-tweet better notes and get flight delay alerts from someone I'd met the night before. And that's just a few things I did on Twitter.


I promise to write more later about the conference, but in case anyone actually reads this teeny tiny little blog, I just wanted to say hi and let you know that a post is coming soon. It might even come later today, but since I have a job, I have to squeeze it in between deadlines so I can keep the aforementioned job.

Not that I'd lose it for blogging. I do work in the internets, after all, but a girl's gotta get some work done!

Back later!

Shocking and sad news

The other night I went to dinner in the North End section of Boston with my friend Pat. Pat owns The Salon at 10 Newbury and has become my friend since my mom died.

She's the wonderful woman who helped find and shape the beautiful wig that Mom wore during her illness and turned what could have been a sad and depressing day - being fitted for a wig while you still have hair in preparation for the inevitable, undeniable evidence that you really have cancer - into something lovely, compassionate, and even enjoyable.

Anyway, Pat and I were having after-dinner coffee at one of the North End's most famous cafes when I spotted something on a decorative pedastal that caught my eye. It was a picture of my childhood hairdresser Richard.

This was completely out of context for so many reasons, not the least of which is that his salon was in Beacon Hill, a totally different Boston neighborhood from where we were currently having coffee. (Beacon Hill is pictured above.)

As I got closer to the pedastal, I saw that there were other framed pictures of people, most of them with brass plaques engraved with the words "in memory of." All of the people in these frames had passed away,and my heart sank because I knew this meant that Richard must have passed away too.

I asked the waitress about the people in the frames and she said that Richard was "the cafe owner's brother. He took his own life."

This took my breath away. It still does. I've heard people say "he/she was the last person you'd ever expect to take his own life" but in this case, it's the truth. Richard was the last person I'd expect to take his own life.

My mother and I came to know Richard when I was 13, after she'd been dating this guy Rob, sort of posh Beacon Hill type. Their relationship ended, but a new one with Richard began. Even though Mom and I lived 25 miles north of Boston, we trekked into the city every time we needed a haircut and into the haven of tranquility that was Richard's salon.

We did this for about 15 years, through college and into my twenties. Richard persuaded me to stop getting perms and segued me into the style that I still have today. In fact, Richard was the first person to talk me into highlighting my hair. And he really had to talk me into it!

It was the early 90's, I was a college freshman and for some unknown reason I wanted to be "natural." Richard convinced me that he could still make me look "natural", but it would be a huge improvement on the naturally blah color I had (he didn't use those words.)

He actually said "Julia, it's going to change your life." And he was absolutely right. Until I went blonde, I was neutral to the opposite sex. Neutral, neutered, whatever. They didn't notice me.

After Richard gingerly placed a few honey-blonde highlights into my mousey-blonde hair, that very night I was "noticed" by a beautiful boy with blue eyes from Connecticut named Elijah. I was so thrilled by this experience, I went to the salon the next day to tell Richard. "You were right," I said. "It did change my life." The next weekend, I met my first boyfriend Evan.

Even though I lived in London and later Los Angeles, after college I'd always visit Richard when I came to town, partly because I loved seeing him and partly because he gave me the most ridiculous deal: $80 for a cut and color.

Richard worked with a partner, Al, and as it turns out, they'd worked together since 1974. Because of this longevity, I wasn't quite sure of Richard's age. It turns out he was younger than I thought, only 49 when he died. That means he was only in his mid-late 20's when we met.

My mom and I were always frazzled and harried when we arrived at the salon because as lovely as Beacon Hill is, parking can be a little bit difficult. Plus, we were always running late.

Richard and Al would greet us with open arms, tell us to have a seat and not worry, have a cup of coffee, or maybe a glass of wine or pastry if it was Christmas time.

There was always something calming about Richard. He put people at ease, made them feel comfortable, normal, relaxed, understood. He seemed like the kind of guy who'd found his cosy niche in life and hadn't a care in the world other than the day to day responsibilities of raising a family and owning a small business. At some point in the early 90's, Richard and Al had downsized their salon so that it was just the two of them, and that took the managerial stress away too.

Richard was married with two daughters, adorable dark curly-haired beauties who he always displayed in pictures on his mirror. Every time you'd go in, there would be a new picture of the girls. The girls skiing in New Hampshire, by the Christmas tree, at school, etc. When I started going to Richard, they were toddlers and over the years, I watched them grow on that hairdressing mirror. They were 18 and 20 when Richard died.

At some point in the 5-8 years before Mom got sick, she stopped going to Richard. I don't think it was personal. I think it had something to do with the parking and also just the idea that it was time for a change. Because of that, I didn't see Richard as much either, although I'd still stop in from time to time.

When Mom was sick, the hopsital was co-incidentally a 5 minute walk from the salon, so one day I decided to pop in to say hi. I was shocked to see a closed salon and a note from Al saying that they'd decided to retire after 35 years of business.

This was in October 07. He'd put the note up in August. I was surprised and sad that I'd just missed them, but didn't really think too much more of it. Mom was getting sicker and sicker by the day and soon, my thoughts were only of her.

Unbenownst to me, Richard had passed away on Juy 4, 2007, three months earlier.

Al had closed the shop and moved on, too sad to continue the business on his own.

I'm still in shock over this loss. I didn't have a lot of men in my life growing up, and in a way, Richard was one of the male influences that had an impact on me. I always thought of him as such a solid, stable, warm, kind and gentle guy. Masculine but sensitive, loving, kind and capable. I always thought, I'd like to marry a guy like Richard, someone stable and calm, a good dad, a good husband.

I guess we never know what's happening inside another person's heart, mind and soul. I wish he'd been able to heal whatever was hurting him, but that wasn't the path he had to follow.

I know this would have shocked and upset my mom a lot. I hope the two of them are up in Heaven having a cup of coffee and a laugh. Maybe he's keeping her hair looking gorgeous and hopefully she's learned to not be quite so late...

RIP, Richard. You turned me into a blonde goddess and I haven't looked back since. I'll never forget you or your little salon on Charles Street. You truly did change my life, and the lives of so many men and women of Boston who had the pleasure of knowing you.

Love,
Julia

I did it!

Sorry for the delay in blog posts. Work and the rest of my life suddenly got a little hectic and I couldn't blog as often as I wanted to... but I had to share a little moment with y'all since it's something I blogged about just a few weeks ago.

I finally ran a 5K in under 25 minutes! And... it was mostly due to the sage coaching advice of my friend Mike, also previously featured in this blog.

Just before the race started, he said he'd read my blog and knew I had this goal so he said "When you get to the first bridge, I know it's tempting to slow down but don't. This is where you have to pick up the pace. Don't start so fast and then pick up the pace between the bridges."

The point he was talking about is about a mile or so in, usually where I sort of relax from the fast start.

I'm usually catching my breath at this point, not speeding up, but I figured he's shaved minutes off of his time in 18 months. I'll take his advice.

It worked! I did it in 24:43, which was about a whole minute faster than two weeks earlier and 20 seconds faster than my previous best.

Woo hoo!

The race happens again tonight so we'll see if I can do it again. Last week was a reverse of the course, so I'm not sure. But I'll give it my best shot!

"How much are muskets going for these days?"

America loves lung cancer awareness!
Well, they do on the 4th of July, anyway.

On Saturday, I marched in the Chelmsford, MA July 4th parade with the National Lung Cancer Partnership - and what a different reception we got there than at the Health and Fitness Expo! They loved us!

They clapped and cheered as we walked by with our banners and leaflets, just as if we'd been a marching band or a group of Revolutionary War re-enactors. Unlike most other marchers, we didn't even throw free candy to the crowd and they still loved us!

I think the weather had something to do with it, but we were also the only cancer advocacy group marching, so people didn't seem to mind reading our leaflets and learning about our cause. Their hearts and minds were open, their faces were smiling, and it was a pleasure to march along in the name of lung cancer awareness.

It was a pretty awesome parade, and I recommend it to any paradophiles. There are several local re-enactment fife and drum bands, mostly from the Lexington and Concord areas, which are also known as the seat of the American Revolution.

On the bus to the start line, we were crammed in with assorted other parade participants and I heard all kinds of interesting chatter. My favorite line was from a former re-enactor who's now a Knights of Columbus member to a man dressed in full Colonial Minuteman garb: "So, how much are muskets going for these days?" he asked, wistfully.

All in all, it was a great experience and I commend Suzanne Dahlberg for coming up with the idea. It was free and easy grassroots advocacy in action. Can't think of a better way to celebrate my freedom than by working towards freedom from lung cancer.

Boston Health and Fitness Expo

This weekend, I worked the Lung Cancer Alliance booth at the Boston Health and Fitness Expo. It was inspiring, enlightening and exasperating, all at once.

It's a free event so there are a fair number of punters looking for swag. The crowd was... definitely an interesting cross section of America. That being said, there were actually quite a few people who were both interested in and touched by what we had to say and I think the whole endeavor was 100% worth it.

Some observations from the weekend:

It's the Lung Cancer Alliance, not the Smoking Cessation Alliance

Roughly one fifth of the people who walked up to our table said something like "I quit smoking last year" or "My dad still smokes. I wish he didn't."

For them, lung cancer equals smoking. The two are synonymous.

With those people, I tried to explain that that 60% of those diagnosed with lung cancer either never smoked or quit smoking decades ago, and that only 10% of smokers get lung cancer and that 20% of women who get lung cancer never touched a cigarette.

It got repetitive, but I didn't mind. They didn't know the facts about lung cancer, and I was able to enlighten them a little bit.

A Safe Haven

Some people would walk by the booth and inch closer, with an interested, even misty-eyed look on their faces. They had clearly been touched by lung cancer. For some, our booth became a solace, a safe and comfortable place where family members could talk about their loved ones who had passed on from or survived lung cancer.

Anyone who's ever been touched by lung cancer knows that it doesn't always elicit a warm and fuzzy response. You always run the risk of getting "the look" - the "she must have smoked so therefore she brought it upon herself" look.

90% of the time, they'll come right out and ask, "Did he/she smoke?" But when you're talking with another person about the very painful experience of losing your parent, spouse, sibling or friend, you really don't want to engage in a discussion about assigning blame. You just want sympathy, like anyone else who's lost a loved one. If you were talking about losing your dad to heart disease, you wouldn't want to immediately answer questions regarding how many steaks or doughnuts he ate, or how many cigarettes he smoked. It's the same for us. And at the Lung Cancer Alliance booth, we understood that. We've all been asked that question, so we know not to even go there, unless someone wants to. We were a safe haven.

The Very Informed

I was surprised and happy to see how informed so many people who stopped by to sign our Lung Cancer Mortality Reduction Act Petition were.

I'd start my schpeil about how lung cancer needs more money for research and several people grabbed for the pen to sign the petition right away and said things like "Damn right it does" or "You know it!" This was surprising and uplifting to see.

No Survivors

Interestingly, I didn't meet one new lung cancer survivor in the entire two day experience. Not one. The only people who came up to our booth who'd been touched by lung cancer were the friends and family members of lung cancer patients, most of whom had passed.

One Jerk

Finally, although there were a large amount of freaks and downright lunatics, no one really bothered me except for one man. He badgered me and badgered me about the statistics, questioning the smoking thing and ultimately he got personal, questioning whether I'd done an autopsy on my mother, along with other completely insensitive and inane questions. I had to ask him to leave because he upset me so much.

But in spite of that one bad apple, the event was totally worth it. We reached a lot of people who'd never heard the facts about the disease, and a good deal of others who've been affected by lung cancer but rarely feel as though they have an outlet or a place to turn to.

That felt good.

R.I.P., Farrah

Farrah Fawcett was an incredible woman. She transcended "Jiggle TV" and Charlie's Angels to become one of those iconic survivors ... and then she was hit with cancer.

She survived that until she couldn't survive it any longer - and she shared every grueling moment with us.

I loved her for that.

She used her celebrity to share her most intimate struggles and moments with us and in doing so, she became not Farrah Fawcett the sexy pin-up girl with the delectable smile and pert physique. She became Farrah from California, the cancer patient, the cancer survivor, and now, the cancer angel.

Thanks for sharing your beautiful spirit with us Farrah.

My friend Lori Hope wrote a beautiful blog post that everyone should read. Go and check it out.