what did you do today?

November 28, 2006 § 17 Comments

In a rare display of interest my daughter asked me what I did today. “Mama, what was your plan today? What did you do?”

In an unprecedented move for me, I followed the advice of others. I told the truth.

“I went to see the doctor about the lump in my breast and they are going to give me some very strong medicine to shrink it. That’s called chemotherapy. The medicine is so strong, that it might make me tired. It might make me nauseous and (pause and nervous laughter), it might make my hair fall out.”

“Oh Mama you can’t go to a party like that”

I met with my Oncologist today, Dr Come. A terrific, personable, seasoned cancer doc, with as many credentials as wrinkles. Just the kind of guy you want heading your team. Complete with a tweedy jacket, shoes well worn-in and a home phone number listed in the book on the off chance there’s a rough night ahead.

You know the landscape has changed when word that your chemotherapy will start on Monday is cause for celebration. Treatment begins and continues every other week for 16 weeks. Surgery is postponed til later and with enough poison, prayers and positive thinking I could actually shrink this baby to oblivion.

Here’s the good news, I am really ok with all this. The potential hair loss. The exhaustion. The nausea. Even the early and instant menopause. I am thrilled there’s a plan. I am thrilled it’s a plan that’s been around for a while with an awesome success rate. I am thrilled I have an A medical team. I am thrilled I can visualize springtime. I am thrilled my chemo coincides with cold months where anyone in his or her right mind would wear a hat. I am thrilled I am not going into surgery this week.

Mostly, I am thrilled for my beautiful and inquisitive daughter who seemed to get it.

When I am tired and bald and hanging over the toilet, I am sure she will remind me that it just means the strong medicine is working. Amen.

Love, Momo


§ 17 Responses to what did you do today?

  • Edie Read says:

    now I’m catching on to this blog relationship so resending my email within it.

    thank you for rounding me up in your posse. Present you are and it’s admirable and thinking of you I am.


  • DD says:

    Sounds perfect.

  • Lynda Brown says:

    Cannnot wait for the shrinkage to begin. Call if you need help. Lynda

  • Rebecca says:

    Let’s talk about hats. Soft and comfy, Momo? Colorful or subtle?


  • Bobbie Beyer says:

    We can go wig shopping! And buy bright pink ones.

    Just kidding. Wigs are uncomfortable. And I hate pink. But I will make you a hat. It might be ugly as sin because I am still learning… but I will make it anyway.

  • caryl says:

    Your strength, your attitude and positive imagery will surely conquer all. As for THE HAT issue, I have a book for you…to be continued. as for the prayer issue…

  • Gail and Suzy and Rose says:

    With the news that chemo is about to start – I feel anticipation and relief that something is now in place to counter the G-d awful waiting. Patience has never been your strong point, rather the opposite.

    I see you forging ahead, leading the pack, breaking new ground – always one step ahead of us, encouraging us to join in.

    Thank you for being so strong and positive. I know you and I know you are going to beat this “thing” into submission. Amen.

    I imagine you stomping and yelling and mad as hell on the inside and yet here you are, willing to accept this path with a calm and a resolve that just amazes me. You are in my prayers and in my thoughts daily, hourly, instantaneously and without limit.

    Go show ’em what a fabulous exceptional patient looks like. You go girl! Wow! Knock ’em dead! Leave no prisoners! (Kill each and every one of those nasty evil little suckers)

  • Jonas says:

    Not to be incendiary…but does this mean we can smoke a joint together and consider it part of your treatment?


  • Lynda Brown says:

    Go Jonas! Good marijauna is now a medical necessity. Lyndabeth

  • Ricki says:

    Well, what did I do today?
    I read that my dear friend Marilyn has a blog… and cancer. Hmmm, an interesting mix of emotions. At first glance excitment but now I’m feeling kind of sick.
    If you need me honey I’ll be there to hold your hand. You know how much I love you. I will be thinking about you daily and calling you within minutes!

  • paula maya ella nadav says:

    Well, as sad as I feel about the diagnosis, I am totally thrilled that there’s a plan in place, a strategy set out by a fabulous 5 star team, with great success rates to boot.

    As for parties and the lot, my thoughts are
    Momo is a one in a million woman, and she can go to a party with any ‘do’ that suits her mood. Go for it Marilyn, we’re here for you, for whatever you need.

    Paula -maya, ella, nadav

  • Marty says:

    Hey Momo, it’s terrific that Frannie asked, and I’m sure that she is going to have tons of interesting and amazing comments. I’ll be there with you every step of the way, and I’m really impressed by how wonderful your friends and relatives have been. Your blog is really shaping up as an amazing living therapeutic diary.

    Love, Marty

  • Israel says:


    This is “great news”, i am convinced “you will shrink this baby to oblivion”

    You are so wonderful….; I am amazed by your strength, humor, openness, love….

    hello to Zenzen….


  • Kevin K. says:

    I was just in the middle of deleting about 100 spammails (it is tempting to hook up with another African American Republican single like myself, but I’ll pass) when this came through. One good thing you did, you made me forget my annoyance about the spam.

    As sorry as I am to read about the diagnosis, I see that you’re bringing the same qualities to your situation that you bring to everything: wit, humor, a sharp skill with words, and a great big heart.

    So now, in addition to “Desperate Housewives,” “House” and “Real Time With Bill Mahr,” I’m hooked on another media series: The Momo Blog. Write as much as you can, I’ll be reading it all. (Thankfully, Mahr’s off the air for a few months, and “The Sopranos” hasn’t started up yet, so there’s a little time opened up in my schedule.)

    And needless to say, whatever I can do, don’t hesitate to ask.

  • Carey says:


    Ricki passed this along to me. I’m sorry you’re going to have to go through this thing. I know you CAN do it. I’m just sorry you have to do it. The pictures of you and Franny are great. The two of you are beautiful. And you’ll emerge from this whole thing a beauty. You’ll probably even be a beautiful baldy.

    If you girls need a little sun, music and cajun food during the recovery, just book a couple tickets, get on a plane to New Orleans and I’ll handle all the rest from the moment you land.

    Beat this thing like you’ve beaten all the rest.

    I love you.


  • Gordon says:

    So what about this guy Dr. S. Come, who Momo refers to on her Tuesblog? I first met him in 1976 (oh shit 30 years ago), when we were both taller. He impressed me then as being a smart,caring soon to be well recognized oncologist.
    He’s good, really good, and I know that the rest of your team are talented as well. But truth be told, they’re lucky to have you as a patient–this is going to be one hell of a ride for them!
    I’ve read all the comments to date from your friends and family, and I’m so happy/pleased that everybody cares for you as much as I do. If you don’t already know it, you’re wish to be as positive as you can, is felt deeply by all of us.Hopefully, we can all give you something back in return. More to come.


  • Susan and Rick says:

    I am so glad your chemo is finally starting and just keep visualizing all those little suckers being kicked and swatted into oblivion. Thank goodness the treatment has progressed as it has. And I am so touched by the outpouring of love from your support system — what a testimony to both you and your friends. It was good to talk with you briefly yesterday — regardless of whatever you may be feeling, you sounded strong and centered and ready to do battle as you take this next step. We leave for France on Friday and I hate to go with treatments starting but will keep reading the blog as it continues to take shape. Love, love, love. Susan

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