PAMELA MINK: IBC WARRIOR
I was diagnosed for the first time in October 2002. I had four rounds of andriamycin/cytoxin, right breast mastectomy, 28 rounds of radiation. After a second PET scan, I was pronounced cancer free.
In Dec. 2003, I had an implant done. In August of 2004, I found a red patch on the right breast again. I immediately had a biopsy and was rediagnosed with IBC.
I began chemotherapy two days later. This time carboplatin and taxol. I became sensitized to the carboplatin after 14 treatments and had to replace it with
gemzar. After 4 more rounds with gemzar and taxol, another PET scan in February showed me clean again.
I feel frighteningly fortunate. How do we keep it from coming back again?
Two time survivors...How rare are we....?
I am pjmjazz@hotmail.com
I have a 17 and 20 year old. It has been a rough few years for us.
I love my life and my community has been phenomenal. I feel like the support alone will pull me through. I live in Placerville, CA. Please feel free to contact me.
It's all happening at the
Cozmic Cafe
I had the finest evening in all the land. I headed up to Placerville. my daughter had put together a show at the cozmic cafe and a wonderful performer was appearing, Adam Lipman. I like this guy. he is cool and
I love his music. so, that was reason enough to head up there.
I visited my mom and did some stuff for her. and that made me feel good. then I
hung out with Jocelyn and couple of the artists. a cool guy I hadn't met before, john pitt of
Chinatown bakeries. these are all musicians that my kids have met through their myspace and now are friends in real life. they do a number of shows together and make other great connections.
we headed over to the cozmic. I love that place. it is a very nice venue for music and a huge hang out for kids in the area. it actually has a mine behind it from the old gold mining days. a bunch of my favorite kids were hanging out.
I love my Placerville posse. I chatted up kids I haven't seen for awhile and some
I just don't get a chance to talk to much. the show began. the local musicians did a great job.
Adam was fantastic, as always.
someone I had never heard before, Helen Renault headlined. she is a gorgeous little
French girl and she sang like an angel. her performance was wonderful. I felt lucky to see her in such an intimate surrounding. and, like icing on the cake, both my kids did an impromptu performance. the
highlight of my night! they are so flipping awesome. when people come up to tell me how amazing they are
I have to say, I always said it first.
Harold
B. Menard Nov. 9, 1924 - Nov. 23, 2006 Former Resident of Livermore Survived by
his wife Barbara, 9 children, 23 grandchildren and 13 great-grandchildren. A
longtime resident of Liver-more, lately of Diamond Springs, Calif.
Services at St. Patricks Catholic Church, Placerville, Dec. 9, 11:00 a.m.
Published in the Contra Costa Times on 12/3/2006.
Pops
What can I say about the greatest man that ever lived? At 82 my father has left us with so much that I don’t even know where to begin. “Pop” as I affectionately refer to my father was so many things to so many people yet all would remember him for his humility, dry wit, talkative nature and gentle spirit.
As a father of nine children Pop had to work nights at the local pizza parlor on top of his teaching job. There many students would show up to harass him, but really they knew that my father would have the last laugh with his quick comebacks.
He not only worked as a teacher, but also volunteered as a wrestling coach for 18 years. He just loved to be around the teenagers and delighted at teaching them new moves. These guys would pile into our motor home while he headed out of town for a match. The wrestlers would crack jokes while my dad joined them with some of his own pranks.
One time when it snowed I remember a kid threw an ice packed snowball and hit my father in the face. He quickly jumped off his bike and put the kid in a wrestling hold while rubbing his face on the cold pavement. When the kid finally squirmed away swearing up and down, my pop just said, “what’s a matter you can dish it out, but not take it?” All the other kids who had gathered just laughed knowing that my Pop got the best of him. That made me proud too. This was his way. You could laugh with him and poke fun, but you’d better not go over the boundary.
My pop was firm with certain matters like using inappropriate table manners would bring a sudden snap with a fork on the elbow, treating my mom with disrespect would warrant a belt whacking. He also stressed going to church, not smoking, and never lying.
Everyone that I knew loved my Pop and I think that’s because he loved people so much. He would take me to the grocery store or dairy for some milk and it would take at least 45 minutes, because he would end up talking to someone there. Man, did he love to talk. Forget about getting home right after church. I think he liked visiting afterwards more than the Mass itself. On the warm Livermore nights when dinner was over you could find my dad with a glass of wine out talking with the neighbors. When we would camp at Yellow Jacket my father was out meeting people and talking about his children or grandkids.
I guess that’s how I want to remember him the most. With a smile on his face making people feel good about life. There are many things that we can become as live out our lives. We can find our identity in our careers, in our toys, in our groups. Or we can learn a lesson from my Pop and live with integrity and a heart that looks to others first.
Mt.
Aukum & Henry Weinhard
I went out to Albertson's to replenish the mini-fridge here, and I saw Henry
Weinhard's Private Reserve was selling cheap again (still?) at $10.99 for a 12
pack, so I picked some up. I like it alright, it's a decent beer, especially for
the price. The reason I mention this is because Henry Weinhard's always reminds
me of my grandfather.
After he retired, he and my grandmother moved to Mt. Aukum, a tiny town about 25
miles away from Placerville, and so small it doesn't even have a label on Google
Maps. We'd go up to visit in the summer and I have a lot of fond memories there.
My grandfather was a science teacher and later a school principal, but he was
also a painter and a sculptor, so when we'd visit, we'd always go out to his
shop to do something artsy. Anyway, being a restless little kid, I'd always go
wandering and exploring, and they had maybe an acre or two that I could go poke
around (of course, in my mind, it was HUGE!) and he had this workshed that had
cases of Weinhard's. I don't ever recall seeing him actually drinking beer, I
think my mom mentioned that the only time he ever drank was after doing
yardwork, because the only thing that could quench his thirst was a nice cold
beer. My mom and dad don't drink, so I never saw beer at home, so I guess it
stuck in my mind.
It's kind of a bittersweet memory, because he died of stomach cancer when I was
nine. I have really good memories of him and wish I could have known him as an
adult. I have a hard time finding heroes and people I aspire to be like and I
wish I had more than childhood memories of him. My mom thought the world of him,
and if he was half the man she talks him up to be, he'd probably be the person I
aspire to be.
Actually, I think he already is. He had a scientific mind, but was also artistic
and creative. He delighted in teaching and was a good father, a good husband,
and a good man. If I can be remembered similarly after I'm gone, I'll die a
happy man.
"he
Dog house"
Sometimes I think back on my childhood and I remember horribly scary dogs with big sharp teeth, chasing me. I laugh about it now, but back then it was no laughing matter!
I was visiting my grandparents in, Placerville, California. Placerville is an extremely small town, most of the roads and streets are not paved, and they are just dirt. My grandparent's house was on one of these dirt roads along with my Cousin Megan's house. In between their houses was another house, that I called "the dog house". A middle aged woman lived there with her five dogs. These were no ordinary dogs, these were vicious dogs.
These dogs put me in an awkward predicament. I could have my father drive me back and forth between the houses, or suck it up and take it like woman, that's just what I did. Before I would leave the house I would stuff my pockets with pebbles, keep a stick in one hand and a big rock in the other hand. I would tip-toe down the road, careful not to step on any twigs or kick and pebbles. When I would get to "the dog house" I would hear those dogs running down the long drive way, and I would start running as fast as my little legs could carry me. I would toss the big rock at them first, hoping to startle them, then the pebbles, my final attempt was the stick, I would toss it over my head and hope it nock out the fastest dog, Rex.
One incident in particular though was the worst. I was heading back to my grandparents for dinner and I needed to take my cousins bike back with me so my dad could fix the wheel. I took off down the drive way at full speed; I just wanted to get the whole ordeal over and done with. Sadly, this gave the dogs a head start, I just barely made it past their drive way time. I was pedaling as fast as I could, praying that my daddy had left the back gate open. The dogs started biting at the tires and I started screaming "daddy!" Then I saw it, the gate was open as I passed through it the dogs stopped chasing me. Sadly I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and I ran straight into the oak tree, I flew off my bike and landed head first. Luckily my head was fine, but my wrist on the other hand wasn't so lucky.
After that little incident my grandparents called the police and told them what had happened and have receiving complaints before, they went down to that house and told the owner of the dogs she needed to keep them in her yard.
