Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Well, I never found the fucking Filofax pages, but on the plus side I did find a troop of little roaches crawling out of my dishwasher. And brother found his first apartment mouse in NYC. The rodents are back and just love torturing the Greens.

Seriously though it will be a good week. Tonight I'm heading to a fab pre-Valentine's fete at the amazing Acqualina Resort, and tomorrow I'm going to an early screening of Confessions of A Shopaholic. Loved the books and have a total girl crush on Isla Fischer. She's Sascha Baron Cohen's wifey, aka Borat. So jeal.

Tomorrow I have my second post-chemo haircut at Cutler Salon in the Gansevoort South, in an attempt to tame the Jewfro and even out my bangs, which I singed off with the flatiron. Thursday I have a facial at Spa Chakra, Friday I finally have my transvaginal ultrasound with Dr. McHottie. This oncological gyno is seriously George-Clooney-level sexy. So it's a little bizarre having his hands shoved up my nether-regions, but he's the best. Saturday I'm treating myself to a relaxing V-Day with a massage at Equinox. (I found out that Barack Obamamama worked out there recently. Gah!) And Sunday is the one-year cancerversary of my mastectomy. Can you all believe it's been a year? My God.

I have a group on FB that some of you are members of called "I Am a Warrior." (You're totally going to have that song in your head all-day now.) Last night I sent a message to all the members, who range from cancer chicks to luminaries like Ross Bleckner. (When I saw that he'd joined the group, I was both floored and honored. One of the greatest living artists and someone I admire immensly; his father died from prostate Cancer.)

So this is the letter, and I'm sooo happy that it's inspired a few women to go out and get mammograms! If you haven't joined the group yet, please do so. (I have no idea what's with all the slashes, but rest assured I'm not responsible for that glitch.)

Sunday Feb. 15th marks the one-year anniversary of my bilateral mastectomy. I\'m a perpetual singleton, so my cancerversaries are what I choose to celebrate. What. A. Year. Natch, the craziest, most educational and character-forming year out of 33.

Everyone asks me how this experience has changed me. My personality, my outlook, my blah blah blah. My friends and shrinks ask me. Doctors ask me. Family and family friends ask me. My loyal blog readers don\'t ask though, as they\'ve shared every surgical scar, side-effect, up and down with me. There\'s no simple answer that will satisfy all of those who ask. It\'s not made me religulous. Or less interested in fashion, entertainment, beauty and other pretty things. Yes, I wore Chanel to chemo, what of it?

Here\'s what Cancer did do: It showed me that I am as strong as I suspected but never really believed. In other words, it proved to me that if I can make it in the chemo ward, I can make it anywhere. I don\'t know why I\'m messaging you guys. Though many of you don\'t know me personally, you probably know Cancer. Cancer is a total douchebag if you ask me. But we have weapons now. Powerful ones.

In less than a year I successfully completed treatment and am \"Cancer-free\" as they like to say. I was C-free after the lumpectomy; I had a bilat mastectomy and chemo preventively. I\'m not asking you guys to do anything but remain aware, and if you know anyone that you think could benefit from my story, forward this, send them to my blog, give them my email, tell them to FB me. I like to pay it forward. (And I pay reaaaally well.)

Tell your Jewish girlfriends to get BRCA tested if they have a family history of breast, prostate or ovarian cancer. Get a mammogram as early as you like; begin mandatory ones at 35.
Let\'s try to show people that there is no reason for Cancer to carry a stigma. It\'s 2009. Got Cancer? There\'s no need to whisper about it. If you or a friend or family member is affected by breast Cancer, I am happy to give doctor recommendations, referrals, advice, names and numbers—whatever I can do within reason. I mean, I\'m not going to buy you a $4,000 wig or anything, though I will call Ralf to get you a coveted appointment with him;)
Stephanie Green