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Jun 16 2013

THIRTY-EIGHT

38.

Six. Sixteen. Seventy-Five. Ingrained in my head forever. Sometimes, I mistakenly reply with this as if it is my own. It was Steve’s identity the past 3.5 years. Many times uttered by me, as fatigue or illness prohibited his interaction. It was his ticket to treatment, doctor visits, prescriptions, surgeries, everything. It became my identity as well. I still now habitually use it at my doctor’s appointments, even though it makes no sense.

I used to despise birthdays, well at least my own. This year I was happy to turn a year older. To be healthy. To be loved. To have amazing people in my life. This year I handled my birthday fine. Amazing friends, amazing people, all made it easy and fun and special. I am a very lucky girl. Yes, very lucky.

But once again it is bittersweet, as birthdays were our week. We shared the week sometimes fighting over when the transition would be from his to mine. I was always robbed, as his was six days after mine, one day short of a full birthday week. Every year we’d manage to do something for “our” birthdays. However, Steve always out celebrated his.

There was the time Steve had a race car party. It was Steve, about 12 of our close friends and fifty 12 year olds. I made him a go-cart racing suit and he sported that thing like no other. He ate pizza, raced go-carts and had cake. He was in heaven.

Or the other time when he had a paintball party. Yet again, Steve, 20 close friends and fifty 15 year olds (That could be misconstrued).

He was definitely one to celebrate. Up for a group of friends having fun and truly appreciating life. Even last year, he was day +4 from his allo transplant, in the hospital and he celebrated with a new playstation game and a monitor that I bought at Best Buy (He always had the perfect hospital set up. We were so proud of all the comforts we arranged.)

Steve’s past four birthday all revolved around treatment of some form or another. Year one was spent as a weekend of sleep from chemo recovery. Year two chemo again, after relapse. Year three, more chemo, after relapse. Year four, in Maryland, playing video games in a hospital room. He always had a truthful sense of the pain and plain fed upness (I know it’s not a word). But, he also maintained an incredible sense of humor and happiness to be alive. Birthdays really meant something to him. They meant that he was still here, beating the odds. They meant he was still living, earning a Masters Degree and working whenever he could. They meant that he was getting closer to living a full life; becoming an old man. Something he treasured. Something everyone should know.

Simultaneously, he had the utmost respect that this week in June was was also my six days. Even though he was sick, he still consistently wrote me a beautiful note or card expressing his gratitude and appreciation. He did more than he could to recognize. I miss those words so very much.

I thought today would be relatively easy compared to all that has happened. It is not. It fuckin’ sucks. It’s probably one of the worst days so far. I am appreciative of all the good and all the great in my life, but I know it’s ok to feel this as well. It’s part of life. It’s part of the process.

38.

It popped up on our joint calendar today as “Tomorrow, My BDAY!” (See, he had no shame)

There are a lot of tears this weekend. I miss him so very much. I miss that support, that love, that drive to live and respect life. That humor. That humor is like no other, irreplaceable.

38.

To be so lucky.

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Jun 07 2013

the others

On June 16th Steve would have turned 38 years old.

He was not alone in his early departure.

Alexander Berman passed away last night from complications of an allo transplant for Hodgkins. Barely 35 years old, he left behind an amazing legacy of two young boys and a wife who has to continue picking up the pieces. Alex was a leader for Steve, having his transplant prior to Steve. Brannan was a rock for me, guiding me through the unknown with such strength, confidence and even humor. I am so very angry that Steve had to lead Alex this time, both having left way too early.

My memories of the first days and weeks following Steve’s death are blurred, but yet distinct. People would say things that I thought were so inappropriate and in retrospect I realize they just didn’t know what to say. Now my time has come to say something to Brannan and I, too, have nothing comforting to say. Because, there is nothing to say that will take away that pain and devastating emptiness. The true understanding of shock and numb are learned.

People recognized my support of Steve.

People will recognize Brannan. For she deserves to know that she made Alex’s life way different then it would have been without her and, he her as well. He wrote in his very last blog post “Well, if I chose to stay alive, God willing, fought for it in order to be there for them (twin boys), including my wife, then that has been my prime motivation for recovery. The slog of it.”

I know what it is to surrender every part of yourself over and dedicate your purpose to help someone have not only life, but a quality of life. I know the years of terror. I know the happy days of relishing in a mundane activity of just being able to eat a meal together as a “family” or not being at a doctor or hospital for just one day. There’s so much there. So much going on and then suddenly, there is nothing in a second.

But yet, I only know part of what she went through. I know that she has to go home and face two young boys and tell them that their daddy is gone. This I cannot even fathom. Steve would have been so mad. I am so mad.

Brannan you are incredible. I know you think this not at all about you right now, but you are nothing short of amazing. I remember the day after Steve died. You called me to see how I was and to express your sorrow. I was profoundly blown away by your grace and strength in your ability to face death knowing it was a strong possibility in your future.

Alex was nothing short of a bionic masterpiece. A combination of humor, dedication, strength, perseverance, love, peace, grace and innocent vulnerability. Alex and you had an understanding of love, care and dedication. A bond that many never experience. It is a great great gift, making it so much harder now that you’ve been robbed. But you will never be robbed of the lessons you’ve learned from one another or the memories. I love you so very much.

Fuck you cancer.

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Apr 16 2013

Unconditional Perspective

“… and she loved a boy very, very much– even more than she loved herself.”

Perspective, as cliche as it sounds, can drastically affect a situation. It can happen over seconds, minutes, years or a lifetime. It can shift back and forth, seemingly non-commital. Sometimes things appear half-empty, rude, wrong and to others the same may be full of life, engaging, inspirational or right. It’s what makes us all different. It’s what makes us sometimes connect. Sadly, it’s also what tears us apart, not only on interpersonal levels, but as whole societies.

Recently, someone brought up the story of “The Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein, saying it was a beautiful story of dedication and selflessness. This reminded me that Steve had given my very own copy. I went home, opened it up and out fell the card below. I remember when Steve gave me this book early on in our dating. Of course, I had known it as a child. But, it had always seemed like a story of destitute, of abandonment, and of abuse. But, as always, Steve had a positive viewpoint. How the hell did he always do that in situations. He saw it as one of dedication, inspiration, care and reality. A story of selfless love. Now in retrospect, I have a deeper understanding of his perspective. Perhaps, I was the tree at times and he the boy. At other times, the roles would be reversed. The situation would shift back and forth and with this, so would the way we both viewed it. It was unconditional love. It was unconditional perspective.

The results from a shift in my perspective have been evident, even more so, over the past four years. And now, over the past six months, my perspective has again shifted. Yes, it’s already been six months since we all lost Steve. I’ve gone through a plethora of emotional changes. One moment, I can accept things, knowing that we are all going to die and it’s “ok”. The next, I can be distraught and realize that Steve was young. Not the youngest to ever pass, but yet still so youthful and full of life even until his last days. This makes me sad. It makes me mad. Sometimes, it makes me distraught. But at the end of all, I know I was so very lucky to have learned about love, forgiveness, acceptance and perspective.

My perspective shifts on other people’s problems as well. Part of me wants to listen, to be fair. As Steve used to say and believe, it’s all relative. I truly believe this as well, but sometimes my perspective changes and I want to say “you’re lucky you don’t have cancer” or “you have no idea how shitty your life could really be”, but I don’t. I remember Steve’s words and beliefs and I put it all into a similar perspective. I remember my pre-cancer perspective and know that I had no idea of others during my innocence. Consequently, this allows me to have a perspective of appreciation and celebration of every individual, their situation and most importantly their perspective. Because just when you think you’re having a shitty day, I bet there is someone that can one up you.

In Steve’s short life, so many have been changed directly and indirectly. How do I describe the admiration and respect for Steve? It’s simply done through his very own perspective:

This man brought humor, where there was deep sadness.
This man brought strength, where there was fear.
This man brought compassion to others, where it should have been reflected on him.
This man brought self acceptance, when there was weakness.
This man brought acceptance for others, when he was hurt.

I remember a man who has forever changed my perspective and many others. A man that, for as cheesy as it may it sound, knew that it’s not the years in your life, but the life in your years. Proof of this is in the fact that I will be accepting a Master of Arts from Pepperdine University on his behalf this April 27, 2013 (if you’d like to attend, please email me).

With an unconditional perspective there comes peace, acceptance, calmness in oneself and calmness with others. I now know that it a slight perspective change can make or break not only a precise second, but an entire life. And, if anyone can be an example of that, Stephen Dickter was and still is.

Lucky, we are.

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Apr 14 2013

Renew

I’ve been thinking about doing a cleanse lately. You know the kind us LA people do that makes us seem obnoxious. Since, I’m so innocent of being a pretentious and vain Angelino, it’s something that I thought I would never try.

However, the past 6 months have taken a bit of a toll on me. It’s my nature not to sit and “be still” and with recent events this has become even more difficult. Consequently, I’ve been on the go mentally and physically. The past few weeks culminated with of a little too much whiskey, a Vegas bachelorette party, working out every day and dinners out every night. I could feel the weight of it all.

Now there are a ton of pressed juices popping up all over Los Angeles. But, I decided to do a two day cleanse with TOTES in Sherman Oaks. Why, because the lil lady behind Totes, Chelsea, lives this stuff. Everything is truly organic and pure, down to the reverse osmosis water she uses (I know, what the heck is reverse osmosis water). But really, there’s something encouraging about living proof guiding you through a miserable day(s) of food and whiskey deprivation.

I picked up two days worth of “food” on Monday afternoon. Come on it’s really tangible chewable food if they hadn’t pressed it all up into liquid form. Relax. I was doing it along side a friend of mine so we could support (I mean bitch to) each other. When you walk in to Totes to pick up your juices, Chelsea is there to greet you with a big smile lots of laughter (She’ll even do curbside delivery). It’s definitely not LA pretentious or intimidating, at all. She explains everything in an email document the day prior and in person if you have more questions. Simple.

The first morning, I woke up to a motivational email check in from Chelsea (and a desperate one from my juicing buddy). Unfortunately, I also woke up hungry. My guess is that it was a mind over matter situation. Knowing that you can’t eat all day, starts the self-fulling prophecy of stomach aching for food. And, there’s that thing of someone telling you can’t have something, that makes you want it more, right?

Normally, I get up and have a bowl of cereal with blueberries and coffee, almost immediately. This morning, as instructed, I boiled water and squeezed lemons into it. This was a nice touch, especially since I felt like I was coming down with a cold anyway. Chelsea suggests Reverse Osmosis water. I didn’t have any on hand, so I just used regular filtered water.

Now the Juices.
(Sorry for the iphone picture, my nikon is in the shop.)

Drink #1

Protein Powder. This was a good way to start off. You mix it with water or some of the last “juice”, almond milk. It’s filling and thicker in consistency. After I drank this I was full for a bit. Satisfied. It was tasty. I did the Vanilla flavor. You can chose from a few different ones. You even get a cute lil reusable mason jar that affords future discounts when you return with it.

Two hours later, I moved onto, Drink #2

Drink #2

Root Awakening. This was a bit sweet for my taste, but I prefer straight up vegetable drinks. At this point, I was feeling hungry, but nothing too dramatic. As instructed, I sipped the drinks and “chewed”. I think this really helps. It made me feel more as I was eating something solid.

Drink #3

Verde. This was my favorite. The least sweet and full of greens. My friend, on the other hand, wasn’t thrilled with this one. I think most people aren’t used to drinking 160z of pure packet nutrition and vegetables. Something that gets easier. Like everything, practice makes perfect.

Now what seemed like 2 of the longest hours ever, I started #4…

Drink #4

Yolo. Is a great mix of sweets and greens. Beets, etc. At about this time I was ready for a steady mixture of not too sweet and not too green. It hit the spot. Also at this time I ventured out to the grocery store (why you ask???) I swear I didn’t buy anything to eat. I had to return some redbox movies. But, point being, my sense of smell was insane. I could smell all the flowers, food, people (unfortunately) AND I had a cold. It was strange.

Drink #5

Spicy Tonic. This is an awesome drink. The pineapple was the driving force and tasted so good after all the veggie powered drinks. At this point I was liquified out. For me 160z of fluid, plus 8oz of water in between each drink was a lot. And, I drink a lot (no not whisky) of water every day on a regular basis.

Drink #6

Apple-Tini. Cute name, but it sure in the hell reminded me of happy hour. Seriously, cruel. No but really, this was also delicious. But I couldn’t finish it all. I guess some people prefer lots of liquid. I started to taper down at this point. Plus I knew 2 more were coming and I didn’t want to be up all night, peeing (yes I said it like it is).

Drink #7

Dirty-Tini. I knew this was the last “meal”, as #8 is more like dessert. I only drank about half of it. Carrot driven and the grand finale. It was easier to tolerate as I knew I was done for the day.

Drink #8

Night Cap. Hands down the best almond milk in the universe. I had half left over from my morning protein powder. It was thick, delicious and a perfect grand finale.

REPEAT – Day 2…

The finale was like a lil renew. After the cleanse, my tastebuds exploded. When I had my first few bites of my boring morning regime, the flavors were vibrant. It was sorta crazy. Everything tasted better. It was like a reset on my corrupt self. My mind felt clearer. My body felt skinnier (most important). And, above all, I felt pretty darn healthy.

Don’t get me wrong, all the drinks are fabulous on their own, but just drinking all day proved to be more difficult than I imagined. Totally feasible. Totally worth it, but reality check on my so called awesomeness. I had always wanted to do a cleanse and TOTES was the perfect place to go. Everything is well organized. Easy to follow. And the pricing is comparable and even more affordable then most. Chelsea goes above and beyond to make sure you’re comfortable, making you feel that it’s completely fine to ask questions OR whine. Ha.

Details

http://www.totesjuices.com
Owner: Chelsea Gutierrez
13569 Ventura Blvd. , Sherman Oaks, CA 91423
818.789.9700

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Jan 23 2013

Freedom. They were right.

“Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.”
― Jim Morrison

“They” told me it gets harder before it gets easier. Unfortunately, they were right.

Grief is widespread in its manifestation. There are those clinical stages, such as denial. Denial can seem like relief. There’s that rush of adrenaline leading to a sense of great escape. Freedom from the endless hospital rooms. Freedom to make plans. Freedom to travel wherever, whenever. Freedom to eat what you want, when you want.

While we were going through it all, the fear was so strong. During it all, I would have given up anything in my entire life to make it just go away. Most of the time, nothing else really mattered. If we could just get through this next step. If we could just finish this last treatment. The bargaining to get to freedom.

There were times of wishing for freedom. Wishing you were healthy. Wishing we could jump in the ocean together, allowing you to not worry about catheters and germs. Wishing we were off traveling somewhere foreign. Wishing we could plan a future. I almost felt guilty for wishing away part of who you were; for wishing for freedom. I could have been the sick one. Would you have wished for something other than us? No way. Without a doubt, I knew that you’d always be by my side. And, oh how soon my confidence in us was restored. How quickly I realized that we were so compatible, so in love and so each other. These negative thoughts only lasted minutes; maybe just seconds. The overwhelming mutual respect and compassion instantly overpowered doubts.

But, as with everything, what is the price of freedom.

As they said, the novelty and “relief” of freedom wears off. The true cost of it smacks you upside the head. It’s gradual, but yet so striking. Strikingly empty. Because what is freedom really. Realistically, freedom just means you have nothing left to lose, so no fear.

You are gone. For good. No longer a loss to fear.

I will never be able to race you to put pajamas on first.
I will never be able to hear your laughter again (I can’t remember it right now).
I will never have more of that incredible indescribable love and appreciation you had, specifically for me. I felt that so strongly. I knew every day how much you loved me. You told me. More than that, you showed me.
I will never have such a reliable, caring everything.
I will never be able to eat breakfast with you. The other day I tried to brave it. I ate alone at a place we had frequented. It was painful. It was not the same. I have to find new places now.
I will never have new hidden lil notes, cards, book inscriptions, polaroids and voicemails from you.

Just a few, among many things that are lost.

I now have freedom from the fear of losing you. But, will I ever have freedom from the pain of losing you. You left behind so many reminders of why I feared losing you. So much for which I am grateful. But, so much for which I fear I’ll never have again. Fear you’ll be forgotten by others. Fear that my memories will fade. Even though I have nothing left to lose, I still fear, so there is no freedom.

Freedom.

Found these lil gems cleaning out a bag the other day. Oh the meaning your words have now for me.

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