East Of Eden

"A curious mix of the relevant and reverential"


Easter 2017

Happy Easter! Sunday was very warm, bright and sunny. Our church's sanctuary was decorated with many lilies and tulips, and the smell of incense wafted through the building. The sun's rays poured through the stained glass windows depicting various scenes of Jesus Christ's earthly ministry. The organ accompaniment, the crisp taste of the consecrated host, followed by the sweetness of the wine- attending Easter services at an Episcopal church is a rhapsody for the senses. Here are a few pictures of our day. I hope you all had a Blessed Resurrection Sunday.

 

 

 

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What to expect when you're expecting...

September 2016, and I have (some) hair.

 

 

... to get better, but haven't. Yet. 

...
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Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo.

 
 
On the April 12th, I underwent the first round of chemotherapy for the stem cell transplant at Northwestern. I was given a rather large, private room, complete with a spectacular view of the Chicago skyline and a large flatscreen TV that I never used on account of the fast hospital WIFI and having my laptop with me. 
 
The nursing staff was nice. Friendly, chatty even, but not too talkative. They knew when to take a bow. 
 
They were quick to provide me with Zofran to combat the nausea from the Cytoxan. Sidebar, but isn't Cytoxan such an appropriately awful name for chemo? Cy-TOX-an? Toxic toxin. Eww. Anyway, they also gave me Mesna and Lasix, which left me having to pee pretty much every ten minutes...
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Not even Marilyn Monroe.


A young Norma Jean Baker in the early 1940s. Many a Penny Pentecostal would still be rocking this same suit style well into the Carter Administration. (Source)


My latest Audible book streaming through my headphones is "Marilyn Monroe: The Biography" by Donald Spoto and narrated by Anna Fields.

Since I was a kid, I've been fascinated by stars who, despite talent, money, fame and beauty, were downed by the suffocating weight of their own inner psyches. Perhaps it was a weird fascination for an elementary school student, but it was there, and only grew as I got older.

If I had to guess as to why, it probably had something to do with my mother's severe depression. She was (and is) my first exemplar of femininity and beauty. She was a...
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I am not my hair.

 

 
"Breast cancer and chemotherapy
Took away her crownin' glory
She promised God if she was to survive
She would enjoy every day of her life, oh
On national television
Her diamond eyes are sparkling
Bald-headed like a full moon shining
Singing out to the whole wide world like, hey"
- India Arie, "Brown Skin"
 
On Wednesday evening, I walked into the bathroom, slid open the medicine cabinet, pulled out a small pair of scissors and paused for about five seconds. I took a deep breathe and cut a large hunk of my hair off on the left side. In less than ten minutes, the sink was full of fro. I was done.
 

 

 
I had decided a long time ago that I'd rather get a hair cut before receiving the chemotherapy that is...
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September 2016, and I have (some) hair.     ... to get better, but haven't. Yet.  It's been four months since I had the Hematopoietic stem cell transplantation (HSCT) at Northwestern ...

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