self esteem

Two things are prompting this post, one is I'm seeing a number of males who have similar body-image/self esteem issues that females have. They want to lose weight, or they want more hair. The other is an article about Turner Syndrome forwarded to me by a woman in the TS community.

Regarding males and self esteem, its somewhat refreshing to know that males feel pressure to look good. God knows girls and women do, so why not men. I have to say though that I believe it's easier for a man to be overweight, for example, than it is for a woman. I think that is because I can honestly say that I have never judged a man, solely by his physical appearance.

Regarding the TS article, it was actually about how a girl with the syndrome can be diagnosed in the womb, so that HGH (human grown hormone) injections can start early. What bothered me about it was how in describing TS, the words abnormal and defective came up too often in reference the missing chromosome in TS girls (others have 46 chromosomes, TS girls have 45), and non existent secondary sex characteristics(breasts and womanly stature).

I think it was my 8th grade year, two boys, James Salisbury and Scott Blake, decided to play "Fuck with the dwarf". Scott told me James wanted to go out with me. He didn't. I assumed my looks had something to do with the prank. I do hope that before I die, I can put this unhappy incident in my life behind me.

In the meantime, I hope our society encourages and enforces the notion that beauty is not on the outside.

The Walk! 2011

This past Saturday (August 20) I once again participated in the Portland Brain Tumor Walk. I've been doing it since I was diagnosed. Even though technically the walk is for brain tumor research, I like to think that this is my way of making a contribution on behalf of all kinds of cancer. Although I have lost many brain buddies, this year I dedicated my walk to my friend Paula, who is battling cancer of her bile ducts.

I have a team I call Eden's Army, thus the visor. The team usually includes my mom, sister and husband. Last year, I had a few former classmates join me. This year I was gifted by the presence of two very cool people, Travis and Heather Smith.

My sister wasn't able to join us, because she was helping my nephew prepare for a performance of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, and my mom was feeling a little sick to her stomach, so the "army" was me, T and H and my husband.

There was a huge crowd this year, and hundreds of thousands of dollars were raised. However, I don't do well in crowds. I'm always thinking I'm going to bump into someone. And the walk happened to fall on the hottest day of the year. My sister says, that because of the crowd issue, she will sit future walks out, though she will still support the cause.

I plan to do it as long as I can.

not bad, but not so good either.

I received a call with the biopsy results of some skin tissue taken from my ear. Apparently, it shows that I have atypical nevus or, in plain English, a strange looking mole. Duh! I thought that's why a resident whacked in my ear in the first place.

But do I have skin cancer? Do I have melanoma?

No, I'm told, but the path report recommends surgery to remove what's left of the mole.

I call the surgery scheduler, who says she wants the surgeon to look at the pathology report, after which, she'll call me back.

"How does next Thursday work?" I'm asked.

"Do you have any openings on Friday?"

"Not for a month, and we don't recommend..."

I'm assuming she means I shouldn't wait that long.

So next Thursday, I will once again make an offering to science. Between my two brain surgeries, and my hundreds of planter warts, I am already more intimate with science than I care to be, but this is how I've been rolling for awhile.

Regarding the planter warts, doctors have tried vaporizing with lasers, next they will try freezing.

Does lightening strike twice?

So, I go to visit the dermatology department at Oregon Health and Science University to have a doctor look at the stubborn warts on my left heel. Just for grins, the doctors also checked out my many constellations of moles on my back, ears, arms, nose and face. One on my right ear looked suspicious enough because of its coloring, that the resident took a sample for biopsy. Obviously, I am hoping that it is not cancerous, but I won't know for another week or so. It would be funny, in a sick gallows humor kind of way, if I had two different kinds of cancer.

As for Veruca and her sisters? They will be frozen in a series of treatments, but after I complete my summer business of walking in the Portland Brain Tumor Walk.

If I could post Facebook status updates...

It has been nearly a month since I left social media. I feel like an alcoholic at an AA meeting.

Hi...my name is Eden..it has been almost a month since my last post.

I am going through kind of a withdrawal. I got a sick high from people who would like my posts enough to "like" them, or comment. During the time I have been off, some things have popped into my head that I would have posted as as status updates:

• I speak fluent bullshit.
• On my walk, I have passed by the same pile of dog barf for the last two weeks.
• Can I raise my debt ceiling?
• Had a nice time seeing some former classmates at the Hillsboro Market.
• I've lost 15 pounds since I started using "my fitness pal" an iPhone app, last November.
• I'm getting ready to do Portland Brain Tumor Walk again.

Still, I want to stay away from social media. Lots of communication, but most of it gets lost in translation.

I have met the enemy, and she is me.

We went to our first session of marriage counseling. Ironically enough, the counselor has had brain surgery too. With a patch over his right eye, dressed in a biker shirt and jeans, he greets us:

Hi, I am Gerry.

Hi, I'm Eden.

Hi, I'm Bruce.

Despite his look, he does not talk like pirate.He gets right down to business. I explain that in addition to my illness and all the moodiness, fear and doctor appointments that have come with it, we have endured an extended period of unemployment.

We all agree that Bruce being back to work is a good thing, and regarding my tumor, he tells me to live in the moment, and plan to live, instead of planning to die. I have heard this before, but it is easier said than done. When I worked, I planned and scheduled. I do not have enough information about my brain to plan or schedule. Many say the part of my brain that does those things was taken.

We shall see what we talk about in our next few visits.

Peanut butter dreams

I am a huge fan of peanut butter. Unfortunately, it is my snack of choice even in the middle of the night. I have found that when I eat peanut butter in the middle of the night, that I have strange dreams. For example, last night I had a dream, where for no apparent reason, I was with my acoustic guitar, sitting among my co-workers from my news days playing a KT Tunstall song called White Bird. Only in the dream, I am playing the song well, and in real life, I'm still trying to play it by ear.

Out of nowhere, television news anchor Mark Hendricks, a man I have not seen since 1996, says, "That's really good, Eden."

Peanut butter also seems to work in conjuring up classmates, just as they looked back in the day. I even had a fight with one in my dreams...I still lost the fight.

Same with ex-boyfriends or crushes. In the peanut butter dreams, ex-boyfriends come back, and crushes are reciprocated.

Time to rest on Sigmund Freud's couch and ask him what this all means.

I can already forecast his answer:

Get over yourself, and stop eating peanut butter!