Pool Jumpers

When I was a toddler, I pointed to the ocean and said...POOL! In honor of summer and mini chlorine lakes...

Stowaway

Someone's ready for Up North!

Up North

Watching PURE MIGHIGAN commercials on repeat. It's more soothing than a pint of Moomers ice cream. 

 

Ellie Misbehaves at Health Center

new side view of my knee with cement.Sometimes, I feel like I've been initiated into a secret society. So few people seem to know about Giant Cell Tumors. I've had six MRI's/x-rays this year in Los Angeles, in five different locations and not a soul has heard of it: not the technicians working the machines, nor the radiologists, nor the doctors; not even my physical therapist. 

Earlier this week, I got a chest and knee x-ray at the health center nearby. I limped down the long hallway. The radiologist motioned for me to take a seat. Four other patients and I sat elbow to elbow like we were at a bus stop. He read my doctor's request: it spelled out that I had recent surgery for a Giant Cell Tumor in my femur.

The radiologist shuffled around papers and asked me where my last chest x-ray was. I said, "I don't think you have one."

He muttered in front of everyone, "Well then, what am I supposed to compare it to?" He sighed, aggravated. 

If he wanted to make my business everyone's business, then fine. I used my best frigid, low, school marm voice. "We're just checking to see that my tumor didn't metastasize to my lungs." 

The elderly man with a deep cough shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The boy with a broken arm gulped. The radiologist shut his mother loving mouth.

 RESULTS CAME BACK FROM MY AWESOME TEXAS DOCS:

Here are my latest results written by my surgeon's right hand man. 

Chest xray was negative for any changes.  the knee showed no further breakdown and overall reasonably well maintained knee postoperatively.

If he could ditch the qualifiers, "overall" and "reasonably,' I'd feel better. If I read that response on a term paper, I'd guess I was getting a solid B. I want an A+. I asked for clarification: "What does 'reasonably well maintained' mean?" Here's the response I got in its entirety... 

  per report there is no tumor recurrence, fractures or loosening-that is "reasonably well maintained".

I think that's doctor speak for 'shut up, stop obsessing, and be grateful'.

Letters from the Outside

I just wanted to write that strangers are awesome. Sure, there are the creepy stalker types out there, and the angry jerks, and the emotional basketcases you want to steer clear from. But, I must say, most of the strangers I've encountered during my recovery have been lovely. I just got this note from a GCT patient, in the midst of her recovery.

...your blog is the first GCT-related-anything that actually made me laugh out loud.

And, this morning I read a note from a spouse of a GCT patient who's had a particularly difficult road to recovery. She wrote...

Some days,  "coffee break" really is the mood of the day...

So, my isolation anthem is actually a point of connection. Who knew? I had hoped. But who knew? (Coffee Break with a Shut In video is on the right).

I haven't felt this surge of excitement--that my work could actually affect others in a positive way--since I was in college, putting on movement theater plays in a barn off Long Island Sound. Thanks for reading. It made my Spring a lot easier knowing I could share it with you.

M.R.I. Nooky

Spent thirty minutes on my back thinking: So this is what getting sexed by a telepathic robot sounds like.

The MRI technician said he's never seen anything like it. 'It' being my cement infused leg. Thanks Bob, in the valley, for making me feel special.

"Mellowing Out was not in the Cards"

Happy Father's Day Everybody!

Here's my old man blowing off steam. 

VLOG: Girlfriend Motivates Ellie's First Steps!

My friends have been super helpful during recovery. They shuttled me around town. They carried outfits to the dressing room for me when we'd go shopping. They even went to bars with me and my cane. 

Yesterday, I was nervous about walking for the first time. I was afraid it was going to hurt. I've lost my sense of balance. What do I do with my arms?! Anyway, it's all documented here for your amusement. 

A very special thanks to Claire for capturing the moment and providing the motivation.

June 17th: Baby Steps

Today is the day I'm allowed to find my footing. I can start walking. Short distances at first. Longer over time. The last day I walked without crutches or a cane was February 24th when I walked into the hospital for my biopsy.

I've never been one to embrace vulnerability. (Being able to cry at an audition? Nu-uh. Only once I'm back in my car.) But since I've been using crutches or a cane, I haven't been as guarded. My cane is like a talking stick for strangers. They'll strike up conversation anywhere: at a coffee shop, on the airport shuttle. And it isn't just because they have morbid curiosity about what's wrong with me. They want to share. They've had shitty surgeries too and so have their friends. There is a communal experience in being laid up on your ass.

While giving me a sponge bath, one of my nurses shared that she had a bone marrow transplant when she was 14 years old. I wrote some girlfriends from my hospital bed:

It's almost like the bandage on my leg is a conduit for people to open up to me and for me to listen. i've been taking lots of notes from the universe. 

One girlfriend wrote back:

What you wrote about the universe made me think of this Rilke
quotation (which I know is probably not literal but I think it works
in so may ways) "keep your gaze on your bandaged place, that's where the light enters you". Some people on the internet think its Rumi, but I think it's Rilke. Pretty sure.
Thinking of you and all your parts.

I had never heard that quote. It's spot on. There is more light in my life.Looking Forward to Family Time in Michigan

Over these past months, my life has been less about stressing out and more about: looking forward to washing my hair in a Michigan lake, my stinky dog who can't sleep unless someone spoons with him, my husband shirtless over the stove in his grey sweatshorts, the texts from girlfriends when they watch Bravo, the bittersweet goodbye hugs, the Trader Joe's rice pudding that reminds me of when my besties and I lived over a rice pudding shop in Northampton, MA.

I was afraid Spring 2011 would be a bust. No walking, no driving, no auditioning. I might as well hide under my covers and hibernate. But, because I felt I had nothing to lose, I've done more with the time than I might have if I had been well.

Here's what I've checked off my list since February 24th....

I've had Goode Company BBQ before and after surgery. I drank margaritas with my in-laws in Palm Springs. I flew alone to Chicago and even managed to catch the shuttle bus. I doubled the movies I've seen, I planned a fifty guest one hundredth birthday party for my Great Aunt, I've started writing three novels (none of which have made it past page 35) , I performed in three shows with my improv team (in front of an actual paying audience!), I crutched up to the stage to do Stand Up on an open mic night (the experience was way funnier than my set), and this week, my writing partner and I have completed the first draft of our screenplay. (P.S. if you want to feel a surge of girl power, write a 96 page script about two girlfriends with your girlfriend, and complete it with your friendship still intact.) 

I've been looking forward to today as the moment when I could hit: RESET. And now that I'm here, that's the last thing I want to do. I want to continue this journey.

Delighting in Shower Hour with McDreamy

Oprah's got her gratitude journal, but I'm keeping a list of little delights. What's the difference you ask? Here's the kind of thing I'd write in a gratitude journal: Dear Universe, soooo grateful I don't live in a developing country or in America thirty years ago 'cause then docs would have amputated my leg. See! It's heavy stuff. Gratefulness can also be a downer 'cause guilt follows close behind. Next thing you know, you start doing good for others. It's a slippery slope.

While I'm (gratefully) gimping along with a cane, I'm savoring the little delights. For example, there's Mark-Paul Gosselaar's bare tush on last night's FRANKLIN & BASH (TNT). It probably wouldn't belong in a gratitude journal, but it's certainly a delight.

You know what else goes on my list of little delights? Every time I shower, I catch Patrick Dempsey taking a peek at me from the hallway. He's so naughty! He can't help himself!

actual view from my shower

You might ask: Ellie, as a grown woman, why would you have such an awesome poster hanging in your home?

Well, it's a reminder of one of my classiest moments as a classically trained actor. I truly embodied the role of the inebriated college freshman dressed as Monica Lewinsky at Halloween. And the puke is real. Not really. It's minestrone soup. But the burp's real. And I'd be happy to sign autographs. Grateful even.