May Day at the Artful Gourmet Bistro

The following piece appeared on the Jewish Times website last week. I'm posting it here as a reminder for the fundraiser we're hosting for the American Cancer Society at the Artful Gourmet Bistro on Tuesday, May 1. For reservations, call (410) 356-2606.


Surviving Cancer At 25

AlisaBS
Special to the Jewish Times

APRIL 20, 2007

It was as if I had lived an entire lifetime in the course of a year. I graduated from the University of Baltimore School of Law, passed the bar exam and got engaged.

And then I was diagnosed with cancer.

Nothing stops you in your tracks quite like that.

First it was colon cancer. It was just days after I turned 25 and only one day after we found out the offer that my fiancé and I made on a house had been accepted.

The doctors wanted to operate as soon as possible. So on the day I was scheduled to be sworn in as an attorney, I instead found myself being prepped for surgery. I spent my Chanukah that year in the hospital, with bridal magazines and reruns of The Simpsons to get me through. Not allowed to eat for two weeks, latkes were but a dream that December.

While the cancer was thankfully removed, the doctors soon found another cause for concern. An MRI showed a mass on my left kidney, which later was found to be kidney cancer -- the same disease that took my grandmother's life when she was just 35.

Thanks to an incredibly supportive husband-to-be who spent many long nights next to me, attempting to sleep in the world's most uncomfortable hospital chair, as well as my caring family and amazing doctors, I made it through both surgeries successfully.

The road to recovery was a long one. It took several months before I could return to a normal diet and many more after that until I regained my strength. By the time the wedding rolled around in October of 2004, I was feeling much better and couldn't wait to partake in the midnight chocolate buffet on our honeymoon cruise.

But today, nearly three years later, there's nothing more invigorating than knowing I've beaten cancer. And except for an annual colonoscopy and a CT scan here and there, life is pretty much back to normal.

Somehow I became living proof that colon cancer doesn't just happen to people 50 and over. It's not always as easy as I had I but it is treatable and beatable when found early.

And while I pride myself on being unique, the truth is that every single day people are diagnosed with cancer and launch into the same paralyzing fear. Last year alone, nearly 1.4 million Americans heard the dreaded words "You have cancer."

Thankfully the number of cancer deaths is dropping. When caught early, cancer is treatable.

To that end, I've made it a priority to help build awareness of the importance early detection. For the second year in a row I am leading a team, aptly named the Semicolons, in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life of Owings Mills, taking place at Owings Mills High School on June 9-10. The event is an all-night fundraising walk, in which a member of each team must remain on the track at all times.

It makes for a long night but compared to what cancer patients have to go through everyday, it's not so bad.

To help us in our fundraising efforts, the owners of the Artful Gourmet Bistro in Owings Mills have graciously agreed to donate a percentage of the proceeds from all meals sold on Tuesday, May 1 to the American Cancer Society. We are hoping the community will turn out in full force that day to show their support for finding a cure, and get a really wonderful meal at the same time. You can stop by anytime between 11 a.m.-9:30 p.m., but we suggest making reservations for dinner at 410-356-2606.

I also personally recommend trying the Renaissance, a chicken breast sautéed in a Madeira wine sauce, covered in wilted spinach, mushrooms, and mozzarella, or the Matisse, a tri-colored cheese tortellini in creamy tomato sauce, but I leave off the ham.

If you'd like more information on the Owings Mills Relay for Life, want to sign up, or would like to make a donation, please visit www.acsevents.org/relay/owingsmills.

Aunt Alisa and Uncle Rich

Well, I've finally become an aunt... no thanks to my brothers.

Aidan is the son of Rich's brother, Matt. (Not to be confused with my brother Matt. Rich's Matt is 6 foot something and ginormous. My Matt is scrawny.)

Aidan was born Tuesday, April 17 at 6:32 p.m., weighing in at 8 lbs. 3 1/2 oz. and measuring 21 inches long.

Here are some pictures from our first visit with Aidan at the hospital. Yep, he's a baby.

A sense of terror too familiar

Yesterday, as the details of the shooting death of 32 people at Virginia Tech began to unravel, I felt the same sense of shock and fear as any human being would.

But I also felt a strange feeling of déjà vu which instantly brought me back to the week almost 10 years ago when tragedy struck my tiny bucolic college community.

It was January 1998 at St. Mary's College of Maryland when we returned from winter break to learn that a group of students were attacked and raped during a study-abroad tour of Guatemala. This was my very first day as news editor of the college paper.

Obviously this isn't entirely analogous to the murders which took place yesterday --the St. Mary's campus, thankfully, wasn't a brutal crime scene -- but there are some real similarities.

I know what it's like to wake up one morning and see your dorm on CNN. I know what it's like to see a college campus overrun by media from around the world, all while you're still worried about the girl who lives down the hall.

I can tell you in no uncertain terms that it's insanely surreal to hear a helicopter circling over your dorm as you see and hear the same helicopter on a live national television broadcast.

I also know that the days, weeks, and months that lie ahead for Virgina Tech are going to be confusing. While united now, students will turn against one another when the discussions continues over who is to blame. Some students will embrace the comfort of media coverage that allows them to talk of the dead and injured while others with loathe the media circus created and get angry at anyone who dares to allow the tragedy to be commandeered for financial gain.

Eventually the media will leave. (At St. Mary's, we had Monica Lewinsky to thank for that.) But life at Virginia Tech will continue.

I am no longer in touch with any of the St. Mary's students from the Guatemala trip but I do think about them often. I hope they have been able to put the horrible memories behind them enough to live the amazing lives they deserve. That's something the Virginia Tech survivors will struggle with for the rest of their lives.

High school, a wedding, and menopause

It's been a full week now since the Hippodrome Theater announced its 2007-2008 season of shows so I've had enough time to mull it over and make some judgments.

Coming off an amazing lineup like this year which included crowd-pleasers like Wicked, I knew organizers would be hard-pressed to repeat such a success.

On my end, I'm happy enough. Here is the subscription lineup:

The Wedding Singer - Sept. 11-23, 2007
My Fair Lady - Nov. 6-18, 2007
Avenue Q - Dec. 11-18, 2007
Cirque Dreams - Jan. 22- Feb.3, 2008
High School Musical - Feb. 19- Mar. 2, 2008
Camelot - Mar. 25- Apr. 6, 2008
The Color Purple - Apr. 29- May 25, 2008

Personally, I'm absolutely thrilled about The Wedding Singer and Avenue Q. The former is the musical version of one of my favorite movies. We even had the first dance at our wedding to one of the songs. I didn't get a chance to see it during its short run on Broadway and I'm in love with the cast recording. Avenue Q is one of my all-time favorite shows. I'm so glad my family and friends will have an opportunity to see the show locally.

Now the rest of the shows? Well that's a different story. I'm okay with My Fair Lady which is a classic that I haven't yet seen, as well as The Color Purple, which I've heard good things about.

I'm far less enthused about Camelot. I can't quite explain why but I just lack any desire to see this show. It's probably fine but I can't get myself excited. Maybe I just got my fill of the Knights of the Roundtable with Spamalot.

Then there's Cirque Dreams. Rich and I actually saw this show in Atlantic City last year. They comp a lot of tickets for it. A take-off on Cirque De Soleil, the show is actually pretty entertaining but it belongs in a Vegas-like setting, not at the Hippodrome. If you do go, be careful about sitting on the left side near the front. There's a really creepy guy that stands there, covered in glitter, playing the violin. I don't think he blinks.

As for High School Musical, I have a secret confession to make. I really like it. Rich even took me to see High School Musical in Concert in D.C. a few months ago. HSM is this generation's Grease. Boy meets girl while on vacation and gosh, they wind up at the same school. Boy is seen as a tough guy while girl is the innocent/brainy type. Love blossoms. Spontaneous singing and dancing ensue. Groups that otherwise didn't get along are now "all in this together." The story is innocuous enough but the music is damn catchy. So if you can set aside the cheesiness and tween madness that accompanies the production, you might actually enjoy it.

In addition to the subscription series, there will also be two non-subscription shows: Hairspray (Oct. 16-21) and a six-month run of Menopause The Musical. I've already seen Hairspray three times so I doubt I'll go this time around. And as for Menopause, well I'll just avoid that like the plague that it is.

(Speaking of Menopause The Musical, is there anyone else that finds it highly annoying that the title doesn't contain a colon or em dash? I understand that menopause means no more periods but do you really have to abandon all punctuation? Sorry. It just really irritates me.)

So is this season perfect? Not quite. But there's enough there to keep me interested. Besides, I'm not about to give up our amazing seats. You can't get much better that Orchestra, row 3, on the aisle. We're perfectly positioned for quick runs to the bathroom.

Winner wanted: No skill required

Through absolutely no skill or effort of my own, I've somehow won my March Madness bracket, making me the lucky recipient of a whopping $67.50.

Scoring 94 out of a possible 120 points, I managed to finish a whole nine points ahead of my closest competitor, my husband's boss. Not bad for someone who plainly admits that I know nothing about college basketball or even basketball in general.

I've just never had much of an appreciation for the game itself. There's nothing about a bunch of 7-foot-tall men getting a ball through a hoop that impresses me. I think the game would be far more enjoyable if played by short people like me, midgets, or players who have to be on their knees at all times. That, or raise the hoop to 20 feet. That could be interesting.

I also believe that the entire game doesn't need to be more than two minutes long. In most basketball games, there are really only two minutes that make the difference. It might be early on in the game when one team goes ahead by 10 points. Or maybe it's the last two minutes of the game when one of the two teams who had been neck-and-neck throughout finally emerges victorious. Either way, think of all the time we could save.

And please, don't get me started on a game where breaking the rules (i.e. committing a foul) is a strategy that can actually benefit your team in the long run.

The only reason I participate in the whole March Madness bracket phenomenon is so that I'm not entirely bored for several weeks of the year. Oh, and I guess this year I get to add the benefit of financial gain and bragging rights.

I know a lot of people (especially my husband) will disagree with my take on the game, but guess what: I won and I have a blog. I get to gloat a bit. So there.

Wow, so much for embracing with my touchy-feely side last week.

I'm self-aware now, or so I'm told

I apologize for not posting lately but it's been a busy couple of weeks. I just completed an intensive (read: exhausting) week-long mediation training course with an assortment of my fellow state employees.

The training was amazing. Obviously I've been through mediation training before (it's somewhat of a prerequisite to training other mediators, I'd think) but this one was completely different.

As a part of the training, the instructor introduced a self-identifying personality test called the Enneagram. Basically you read a series of paragraphs describing each of the nine personality types and then once you've decided which one best fits you, you move on to read all about what things in life cause you comfort or stress, and how you approach problems.

I quickly realized I was a classic type six or the "Loyal Skeptic." Psycho babble aside, this means that I view the world as a dangerous and fearful place. I look for the worst-case scenario and plan accordingly. I am preoccupied with what can go wrong and feel the need to develop contingency plans. I hate surprises. (And believe it or not, I have a Jewish grandmother.)

This outlook is eerily familiar. During one of our exercises, we answered questions from someone of a different personality type so that they might better understand where we were coming from and we might better articulate our own tendencies. I explained how from the moment I wake up in the morning, I'm already thinking about the obstacles I will face that day and playing out several scenarios in my mind for how I will address them.

In fact, I suppose it starts even sooner than when I wake up on the morning because these worst-case scenarios permeate my dreams. A few nights ago I was overly preoccupied with the 2007-2008 season lineup for the Hippodrome Theater. That night, I dreamt that they announced the shows, starting from "An Evening with David Hasselhoff" and things only got worse from there. (The actual Hippodrome schedule came out on Thursday and is a topic for a separate post.)

Similarly, several weeks ago I attended a Bagdaddy purse party where we could design our own bags. I've been waiting anxiously for the bag to arrive and two nights ago, I dreamt that the bag came but it was completely wrong. In my dream I went so far as to seek out my original paperwork, scan it, make copies, and start drafting a letter to the company. (As a side note, my bag arrived yesterday and it's perfect.)

Surprisingly, the realization of my type six personality has been a liberating experience. I've learned how thoroughly exhausting it is to always plan for the worst and spend all my time thinking about what could go wrong.

Also, I've gotten to know my directive tendencies and several of the experiences we did this week helped me practice how to resist my problem-solving mindset and allow others to deal with their own problems. One might think that the fact that my brothers have called me Captain A (short for Captain Asshole) for so many years would have given me some kind of indication that I can be, uh, ahem, bossy, but I guess it was something I needed to figure out for myself.

So rather than bore you all with more talk of myself (although you have to admit that I'm pretty fascinating), I'm curious as to whether anyone else is as enlightened by their Enneagram type as I am. I can't be the only one.

The impending baby boom

Starting in the next few weeks, everyone I know will be having a baby. Okay, that's an exaggeration. Not everyone will be having a baby. Men can't give birth.

But sometimes it sure feels like just about everyone I know is pregnant. I guess it makes sense to some extent. I did go to an awful lot of weddings over the past three years so a baby boom isn't entirely unexpected.

Still, I'm a bit overwhelmed by all of the pictures of nurseries and ultrasounds. To me, the ultrasound (or is it sonogram?) pictures are no different that those Magic Eye pictures from the 1990s. I couldn't make out anything in those either. Oh, yeah, I see it... that's the uh, uh, leg maybe?

I do feel the need to clarify the fact that I'm thrilled for all of my friends who are pregnant. While I don't pretend to relate to their excitement over weight gain, financial burdens, and lack of sleep, I really am happy for all of them. I can't believe how much these girls are beaming, even as they're puking on a regular basis. Clearly they're meant to be mothers and I'm not.

Often it feels harder to defend my choice not to have children than it would be to just get pregnant. It seems like nobody questions the decision of a married couple to reproduce, but somehow I'm defective as a human being by deciding that I don't wish to breed.

I can honestly say that I've never felt the urge to have a baby. People say I'll change my mind, and I can't discount that because I don't know what the future will bring, but I've never felt as though I'm that talented or important to create a life in my own image. (Perhaps if I had the ability to birth a litter of puppies, I might feel differently.)

Some of my reasons for not wanting children are more noble than others. First, I would never want to pass along my cancer genes to anyone. I would feel like the most irresponsible person in the world if I brought a child into this world knowing that there was a chance they'd have to deal with the health issues I have.

But aside from that, I'm really just a selfish person. I don't want to give up the time I have to sleep, relax, travel, etc. I also don't want to give up the money.

I'm grateful that my husband is so supportive of my view. While he'd make a good father (after he gives up his two-door car, eating out, weekend getaways, gambling jaunts, and coughs up private school tuition), he understands that this is one of those decisions requiring two-party consent.

Anyway, I wish everyone who is pregnant or trying to get pregnant the best of luck. If you ever need someone to remind you how pleasant a child-free life can be, I'm here for you. Oh, and I can babysit too.

Little brothers, big news

We finally have good news to report for both brothers. Matt is finally a CPA and Danny has a good job offer!

Last week Danny got an offer with an insurance company. He'll start as a claims adjuster and hopefully be able to transition into doing insurance fraud investigations, which is his real interest. They're starting him at a salary more than 30 percent higher than his current salary so that's a nice added bonus. Plus, the match on his 401K is pretty nice.

Then on Friday we got the news that Matt had passed his fourth and final exam to become a CPA (or CPASS as Danny prefers to call it) just in time for tax season. The family breathed a collective sigh of relief and we hope this will translate into more money for Matt as well.

So congrats to both of the brothers. And don't screw it up.

I miss my Alex

I was so happy to see that an English Springer Spaniel won Best In Show at this year's Westminster Kennel Club. Springers will always have a special place in my heart.

Four years ago this week we lost Alex, just days shy of his 15th birthday. But Alex wasn't just a dog to me -- he was my best friend.

I still think about my darling Alex all the time. I was lucky enough to have him in my life from elementary school all the way through my last year of law school. He's the best study buddy a girl could ever ask for.

I clearly remember the day we drove up to Pennsylvania to pick him up. Alex was the last pup left in the litter. We saw his mother in the backyard of the house and then saw Alex, still not entirely steady on his rapidly growing legs, wobble out next to her.

At first my brothers and I weren't convinced this huge liver and white thing would be our new family member. We were still mourning the loss of Chad, the Cocker Spaniel, who even at full size was a little smaller than Alex at just 12 weeks.

My parents, smart enough to realize that the three of us kids were still growing ourselves, knew Alex would make the perfect-sized companion for us.

Puppyhood was quite the challenge. Alex soon took over half of the kitchen as we erected wooden barriers to keep him from wandering the house. Not happy to be confined, he registered his discontent by removing the moulding from along the wall, chewing up the kitchen table and chairs, and knocking over the television set.

As he grew, so did his curiosity. Alex loved the backyard, especially climbing atop the green turtle-shaped sandbox, where he could survey his territory. We also soon learned how springers came to be known as springers as Alex somehow managed to get himself perched inside the fence we put up to block him from chewing on the air conditioning cords. Silly boy got in easily enough but couldn't figure out how to extricate himself.

Always the charmer, when Alex was 3-years-old he fell in love with a stunning 2-year-old Springer Spaniel up the street. Alex and Roxy were a pair made in heaven. Whenever he let himself out of the house (he was particularly adept at opening the screen door) he would make a bee-line for Roxy's house. Roxy's family moved away a few years later and you could tell Alex still thought about her and their romps in the yard.

I think the one thing that made Alex so special was that he had the innate ability to make each member of the family feel we were the only one who really mattered. Alex was fiercely noble to my father, obeying his every command as long as he felt like it. Alex slept in bed with my parents, always cautious to make sure he afforded my dad enough space, all the while shoving my mom off the side.

But Alex loved mom too. He knew she was a sucker for his cute face and enormous ears. While he wasn't one for toys, Alex never turned down a treat. Alex plied many a treat from my mom.

Alex also had a special relationship with my twin brothers. One of only a few who could actually tell them apart from one another, he knew exactly how much he could manipulate each of them. He knew subtlety was lost on Danny and that he'd have to bark right in his face if he wanted something. Matt was generally a little quicker to respond to Alex's whims but unfortunately Alex only repaid him by leaving 'presents' on the floor of his bedroom. (The carpet has never been the same.)

Finally there was Alex and me. Always protective of me, as I got older and started spending more time away from home, Alex positioned himself between the front door and my bedroom so he knew when I came home. He wouldn't come upstairs and climb into bed until he knew I was home safe and sound.

The years passed and we all grew up and Alex outgrew his puppy exuberance. I went away to college and my parents brought Alex down to visit me at St. Mary's. Leave it to Alex to wander out of my dorm room into the hallway just as the assistant director of residence life came through. A new rule prohibiting "visiting pets" in the dorms appeared in the following year's student handbook.

When I returned home for law school, Alex was ready and waiting to help me study. With my brothers away at college, I had Alex all to myself.

But as Alex aged, we often wondered how much longer he would be around. His arthritis could usually be kept under control with the wonder drug Rimadyl, but his hearing and eyesight were not what they used to be.

As senile as he was, Alex still managed to put a scare into the mailman. One day I heard some barking coming from the front porch. The mail truck was already up the block but my poor old dog was covered in pepper spray. We tracked down the mailman who swore than Alex lunged at him but considering Alex's condition, I find that hard to believe.

The subsequent visit to the vet revealed the need for surgery, as Alex needed to have a fatty tumor and a toe removed. The weeks that followed were touch-and-go and we really didn't think Alex would last much longer. Somehow he recovered and made it another two years.

Like his life, Alex's death became a legendary story in itself. Alex chose to die right in the middle of the President's Day Blizzard of 2003. We had no way of getting out of the house so we had a few extra days to spend with him. The vet advised us to put him outside in the snow until we could dig our way out.

The local pet cemetery said that because the ground was frozen, they wouldn't be able to bury him until spring. We didn't want to let our best friend sit around in a freezer somewhere all that time so we ultimately decided on cremation.

This turned out to be a very good choice. David Mason of Beloved Pet Cremation and Burial Service was an amazing help. He came to our house with his doggy hearse to pick up Alex's body. He sat down and talked with us for a while about Alex's life and what he meant to us.

It's such a comfort to have Alex in the living room at my parents' house. We still talk to him all the time. It's such a fitting final resting place considering he spent so much of his time trying to convince us that he should be allowed in the living room anyway.

It's never easy to know when it's the right time to put a pet down. Alex was kind enough to take that decision out of our hands. It's just one more reason that we love him so much and will never forget him.

Diabetic, epileptic, and cute as can be: A canine update

We finally have a little more information on the health of Buddy and Snoopy, the two family pups.

Snoopy's fourth birthday was yesterday so we'll begin the update with the birthday pooch. As you may recall from a previous blog entry, a few weeks back, while at my parents' house, Snoopy experienced what we thought was his first seizure.

Two nights ago, on Snoopy's birthday eve, he experienced two more seizures. (See my brother's blog for a detailed account of the trying night.) Off Snoopy went to the vet for observation and the vet concluded that he has canine epilepsy. While often difficult to diagnose, the vet said that beagles are prone to the condition and it usually strikes between the ages of three and five so he's right in the middle.

Thankfully the vet believes Snoopy's condition can be managed easily enough by phenobarbitol. Plus, the drug is relatively inexpensive (at least comparatively) so it won't break the bank.

We know a bit more about Buddy's condition as well. Buddy also experienced a seizure a few weeks ago. While that has not happened again, it was clear something was truly wrong when he stopped eating. Buddy has never refused food before. Plus, he was drinking a lot more water than normal. The vet said his body wasn't absorbing any of it so they had to put him on an IV to hydrate him again.

We ultimately learned that Buddy is diabetic. The vet thinks it's caused by the cortisone he was given for his allergies and skin condition. My parents have to give him insulin shots (in addition to his allergy shots) while weaning him off the cortisone.

Luckily they've determined the proper level of insulin for Buddy. Apparently too much can kill him and not enough will leave him in a stupor. My dad likes to give him a little less than the recommended dose so that Buddy stays calmer and doesn't bounce of the walls quite as much. I guess it's kind of like how he used to give us Benadryl before car trips.

I'm so glad it looks like we have both dogs' health situations under control. It's nice to have happy and healthy pups again. They've never been so cute and lovable.