Midnight of Hope - City of Hope

I've had quite a few requests to repost the poem I read last month at the City of Hope BMT Celebration of Life Event. Even with the 6000+ people in attendance, it was like a sharing in a wonderful family reunion. Thank you everyone again for making it such an unforgettable day.

This photo is just a small fraction of all the survivors who attended!

- - - - - - - - - -

The Midnight of Hope

Spent last New Year’s Eve at City of Hope
Alone in my room, didn’t know how I’d cope
Thinking of the all the champagne, the confetti, the cheers
Of others feasting and singing to welcome New Year’s

Friends came to visit but left before ten
I didn’t want friends to miss the parties and joy offered to them
Around the world people danced in the streets to celebrate the night
And here I was tethered, alone, fighting for my life

Broken and sobbing in my bed
Uncertainty and fear swirling in my head
Brooding about the fun at midnight I’d miss
Realizing… I had no one to kiss

Hearing the medical clicks from my IV pole
I remember….. I began to cry into my pillow
Holding on to Hope and not wanting to believe
That I probably wouldn’t see next New Year’s Eve

But now it’s a year later and I’m cancer-free
This year Times Square is waiting for me
I have City of Hope doctors and nurses to thank for this
And this year, I look forward to that sweet kiss

With my family and friends, we shall dance to celebrate this life
A second chance to live and laugh after so much strife
My dearest one who ever stood by my side
We’ll raise our glasses and sing to auld lang syne


:)

But thinking again, I realize I am wrong
"January 1st" only sings a small part of the song
For if Midnight can bring Hope, about Life Anew,
Of Joy, of Freedom and of Gratitude

If in the coldest of winter, at the darkest of night
We can still find in ourselves, our own Ball of Light
Then I don’t need Dick Clark or a Fireworks display
For the anniversary of my marrow transplant is my New Year’s Day


love,
Christine

"Why I Write"

This essay was originally posted on the old "savechristine.com" website. As most of you know, the website was lost when our host server was attacked by a malicious virus. I will be reposting some sections/writings from the old website for posterity sake. And also, that we may continue what we started. The marrow registry remains lacking in minority donors. There are still many other cancer patients searching for their miracle.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Why I Write”

I found out last night that another one of my cancer buddies has passed away. Struggling in my own fight, I neglected to ask about her. The news came from a friend who is also a survivor and who also sadly did not realize that Maria had lost her battle months before.

Maria was beautiful, even under fluorescent lights: a mocha skinned Latina with deep brown eyes. I first met Maria when her wheelchair was pushed next to mine, in the basement of a hospital, waiting in the hallway for our turn in the radiation room. We were both slouched over under the weight of nausea and exhaustion. Her hands were collapsed in her lap and by the heaviness of her small frame, I could tell she had been crying. In that moment, we became comrades fighting the same war. We were both terribly frightened.

After staring down at the speckled linoleum for some time, we instinctively turned to one other. “Doesn’t this suck?” Her voice broke apart into sobs as she spoke the words. I remember looking at her and seeing myself: A young woman in an old hospital gown. Scared. Cold. Alone. Afraid to die. Wondering what she did wrong to be punished like this. Begging God for a reprieve and pissed off at the rest of the world. It was 8:00am on a Tuesday. Most women our age were rushing off to work, going to class or seeing their kids off to school. Not us. They were alive and we were dying. It was so unfair. Acting maniacally optimistic, I slapped on a smile and rambled about how this was all temporary and this was what we needed to do to get well again. Maria just pursed her lips and half-nodded half-shook her head. The technicians came to wheel us to our respective radiation machines. We wished each other good luck. Less than one month later, Maria was gone. She never saw her 25th Birthday.

What is the meaning of life? Love. Why do we exist? To express this love.
Nothing else matters. Nothing.

Each one of us has been given a gift to give, a song to sing to this world. A doctor heals, a mother cares, a farmer feeds, a teacher inspires. Each one of us affects every one of us. And the love you give is the legacy you leave behind, and is the only part of you that lives forever. I am not a scientist or an architect. I cannot fix cars nor defend the innocent. I sing off-key and I am mediocre at sports. I don’t know if I am a good writer, but I do know that people have been moved by my words.

I have been writing since the age of 10, when I opened my first diary, but I never shared what I wrote. I kept every word, every poem to myself. I was afraid of being rejected. After I was diagnosed, I experienced a fear far worse than rejection, and that was the fear of never being heard. Of dying before you had had your chance to sing your song. So from my hospital bed, I began to share my words and poems and then the most wondrous thing happened: All the love I gave came right back to me. There was the day when an elderly man tearfully approached and sighed, “You wrote what I felt but couldn’t say”. There was the night when a girl Maria’s age hugged me and whispered, “Your words saved me.” She touched her belly and went on to share how she went from wanting to take her own life, to wanting to bring life into this world.

I made a promise to God and to myself that if I survived my illness, I would give all the love I could with whatever talent He has given me. Everyone has a song to sing. And this is mine.


Christine Pechera

The Midnight of Hope

Recently my Writing for Wellness group at City of Hope was asked to pen a poem about New Year's. Recalling exactly where I was last year, and the miracle that I am still *here* this year, this poem just sort of wrote itself. It's a bit dippy, but I thought I would share it anyway.

I've lost many friends to cancer this year. Fellow warriors and fellow hearts. Each one of us equally frightened, yet equally determined. Each one a compelling, inspirational story of courage and hope. All of us in mutual support of one another. Sometimes I feel guilty that I am still here and they are not. This holiday season, I am taking nothing for granted. This holiday season, is in remembrance of them.

Not only is life precious, but it is precarious. We are far more fragile than we let ourselves on to believe. But we are also far more resilient.

Hold your loved ones closer this year. Forgive and be giving. And for those who have loved ones spending their first Christmas in heaven, know that when you feel the Christmas spirit in your heart, it is them loving you.

xo,
christine

- - - - - - - - - -


The Midnight of Hope


Spent last New Year’s Eve at City of Hope
Alone in my room, didn’t know how I’d cope
Thinking of the all the champagne, the confetti, the cheers
Of others feasting and singing to welcome New Year’s

Friends came to visit but left before 10 p.m.
I didn’t want friends to miss the parties and joy offered to them
The world danced in the streets to celebrate the night
And here I was tethered, fighting for my life

Broken and sobbing in my bed
Uncertainty and fear swirling in my head
Brooding about the fun at midnight I’d miss
Realizing… I had no one to kiss

Hearing the medical clicks from my IV pole
I remember, I began to cry into my pillow
Holding on to Hope and not wanting to believe
That I probably wouldn’t see next New Year’s Eve

But now it’s a year later and I’m cancer-free
This year Times Square is waiting for me
I have doctors and loved ones to thank for this
And this year, I look forward to that sweet kiss

:)

But thinking again, I realize I am wrong
January 1st only sings a small part of the song
For if Midnight can bring Hope, about Life Anew,
Of Joy, of Freedom and of Gratitude

If in the coldest of winter, at the darkest of night
We can still find in ourselves, our own Ball of Light
Then I don’t need Dick Clark or a Fireworks display
For the anniversary of my marrow transplant is my New Year’s Day

In Remembrance of Elizabeth

Cancer vixen, fellow traveler and true friend Elizabeth Terry has passed.

Elizabeth and I were already close friends before we both relapsed within a week of each other two years ago. We were both given grave odds. We were both determined to beat it. We made a promise there would be a day when our yet-to-be-born children would play with each other.

Some of you may remember her from the BBQ get-together, held the week before I was admitted to the hospital for the bone-marrow transplant. Though fighting cancer herself, Elizabeth came to offer support and hope. As usual, her English wit and charm won everyone over.

Some of you may remember her from those scary few days at the hospital in Santa Monica, when I was close to death with that terrible infection. Elizabeth was in the middle of chemotherapy herself, but she was there in the room with everyone else, helping to lead the fight to get me better care.

Elizabeth was feisty, yet elegant. Handed down worse and worse odds with each passing month, Elizabeth handled her situation with grace and sublime defiance. Never did she lose the fire behind her eyes. With her English roots, she would often relay bad news with perfect poise and finely tuned resilience.


When we would meet at City of Hope for Chemotherapy, Elizabeth would say "Are you ready for your spa treatment? This is the best, most expensive spa treatment anyone can ever get! Aren't we lucky?"

Elizabeth was a global writer. Her work took her from the outskirts of Australia to an honored place within Princess Di’s circle of trust.

Elizabeth was truly a remarkable woman. After confessing of the declining state of her health, she would quickly brush off any pity, self or otherwise and turn bright around to say “Well enough of that! Would you like some tea? I can make us cheese sandwiches…” We would spend the afternoon talking about everything we would do once we got better. Elizabeth was so perspicacious and courageous that I didn't doubt there would be a day when we would toast champagne in Le Cap d'Antibes.

Elizabeth’s husband, James, never left her side. At one point he was holding down several jobs to keep up with medical expenses all the while accompanying Elizabeth to as many appointments as possible. He held her hand in the quiet times and fought hard for her when there was a call to battle. James was completely devoted and stood by her every step of the way. That is the mark of a true man. Today, our thoughts are with him.


Elizabeth is deeply missed. Her indefatigable spirit continues in our hearts.

Here is her obituary published in the Los Angeles Times today:

- - - - - -

TERRY, Elizabeth Jane Marchant March 7, 1962 - Dec. 7, 2007, a versatile journalist who lived in Paris, London and Los Angeles, was working on "Gardening Angel," a book to be published by HarperCollins San Francisco about growing and cooking with cancer-fighting herbs and vegetables and the power of gardening--for body, mind and spirit. Born in Santa Monica to British parents, she spent her childhood between Sherborne, England, and Santa Monica. Her beauty and charm, as well as fluency in French, German and English, were assets in her various journalism posts at magazines including People and Celebrity Bulletin, in Paris; InStyle, and several British newspapers in London; and the Palisadian Post, House & Garden, Vanity Fair and The New Yorker in Los Angeles. In 1999, she accepted a position as West Coast Editor for eLuxury, the online website of the French fashion conglomerate, LVMH and also launched into a successful freelance writing career covering topics that interested and amused her: gardens, home decor, travel, interesting personalities and local Santa Monica history. With good doctors, deep friendships and newfound faith she was able to continue laughing, traveling, writing, and helping others. Elizabeth is survived by her father, two brothers, a sister, a step-father, two nieces, and her loving husband, James Terry. In lieu of flowers, Terry has asked that donations be made in honor of Benjamin Shapiro to the Tuberous Sclerosis Alliance, 801 Roeder Road, Silver Spring, MD, 20910. A service will be held on December 20th at 11:00 a.m. at All Saints Church, 132 North Euclid Avenue, Pasadena. A reception will follow.

- - - - - -

We had love left undone
We had words left unspoken
I still hold things I promised you.
Guilt withers visions of trips untaken
Of ghostly towns
And dying flowers
Dried stalks crumble in the hand.
You penned wishes in notebooks
Squeezed between paragraphs of disappointment.
We promised and planned but delayed for convenience.
A regret that cannot be atoned.
“Some day” never came.


Remember Elizabeth by living Now.

-cp

Ignite

Here is an abridged version of a speech I recently gave:


The PSA you just saw happened last year. A year ago today I was still
in the hospital. Even with all efforts to save my life, my prognosis was
very grim, with less than a 10% chance of survival. But because of my
donor, I was given a chance to fight. I am so blessed to be standing
here tonight.

We are all blessed to be here tonight. To be in this theater, sitting in
these chairs. We are here because we are HEALTHY enough. We are
here because we are ALIVE.

But what keeps us alive? What keeps us going? Is it love? Is it
strength? Perhaps it is the person sitting next to you. The fact is, inside
each of us there is a life-force... A desire. A fire. A will to live. A great
flame inside us. I believe it is fueled by faith, by love, by hope.

But there are times when we do feel depleted, or worse, when we feel
nothing, as if something has extinguished our inner light.

God works through us. "Us" meaning we, you, me, the person sitting
behind you. We are the vessels for God’s work. Whether you believe in
him or not, He works through you.

When you are in that place where you are ready to give up. When
loneliness consumes your night. When there is nothing left inside you
but a lost soul or a torn heart. That is when love, working through even
just one single person, can heal. The miracle of the touch of another
can heal anything.

The inner flame inside each of us can re-ignite a broken heart into a
blazing inferno. Like one candle to another candle. One person can
rekindle another’s inner life-force. Another's soul.

This is what donating marrow is all about. This is what makes life
meaningful. It is God creating his miracles through us.

One person to another.

There remains thousands of cancer patients whose life-force is barely a
flicker. Whose flames are about to be extinguished.

Right now I want you Breathe in deep and breathe out slowly.

Feel that? That is the life-force within you. That is God’s love inside
you. YOU have the fire within to re-ignite the life of another.

It is literally in your marrow.

You may be the miracle someone is searching for.

Tonight we come to support A3M’s efforts to save lives. Tomorrow,
let’s be a part of it.

Trust me, it’s awesome.

Thank you. God Bless. And don’t forget to let your light shine.


Wishing a Blessed Thanksgiving,
Christine

Francis Rex

Originally I was going to post a message I wrote the other day about how I celebrated my one-year BMT anniversary on July 5th. However another anniversary, a somber one that I feel is far more important to remember, is also upon us.

Friday July 13th 2007, will mark the anniversary of the day my brother, Francis Rex, lost his battle with Cancer. Seventeen years ago, on Friday July 13th 1990, I held his hand as it slowly went cold. I remember my mother didn't scream. She cowered over the hospital bed, exhausted and broken after five draining years, pleading with everyone in the room to please "Embrace him while he is still warm." I remember my father frozen and unreachable, his eyes scorched and sunken, staring at the white sheets that held his eldest son. I remember the nurses sobbing. And it was the doctor who had gone mad and was screaming, clenching hair in ripping fists, repeatedly shouting over and over and again, "He is in a better place now!" Shouting at no one, but instead, it seemed, to placate himself.

And my thoughts raced, raced as far as it could go, out of the room, away from this boy who could not possibly be my brother because my brother could not possibly be dead. My thoughts ran far away, back to when before he got sick. Back to BMX bikes and Rocket pops and Little League games. Back to summer and hopping across river stones, watermelon juice dripping on bent elbows, and silly giggles in the back of our big red station wagon. In our backyard pool we used to pretend "National Geographic". Rex would flop, swim and splash while I'd play Jacques Cousteau and follow his every move, describing in great detail this "strange new animal" to our enraptured TV audience.

In the years before he died, Rex and I would often stay up late talking. While other kids were gabbing about GI Joe, Donkey Kong and soccer camp, Rex and I would ask each other questions about God and life and what happens after we die. Back then, I was 14 and he was 12. He dreamed someday to become a pediatric oncologist and save the lives of other children with cancer. His wish was to be able to comfort a young patient like himself and give hope with his own story of survival… "So when one of them says `I'm scared' I can tell them I was scared too but look at me now, I'm cured."

In the days that my brother fought cancer, he never complained or revealed how scared he was. Rex held immense strength, profound wisdom and peace in his heart… all in the years before he turned 16. Because of our late night talks I thought I understood what he was feeling inside. But it was not until I got cancer that I truly understood and felt what fear and uncertainty really meant. To know the meaning of life is to know the meaning of death. My brother was so brave. There was no such thing as anti-nausea medications or any of the other medicines that help the patients of today. Back then, it was just raw, barbaric, vein-ripping chemotherapy. Compared to my brother, I had a cake walk.

Today I realized that for the first time, my brother will have been dead longer than he was alive. It's a mindF—k. Rex never had the life experiences we take for granted: his first kiss, driving a car, graduating from high school, being in love, a summer job… never mind the college experience or the joys that come after. My brother Marc shares the same Birthday as Rex, though Marc was born four years younger. May 17 has never been able to recapture the joy it once held. It is strange to think that you could ever be older than your older brother. Marc is now 29.

On one of our last late night talks, Rex and I realized that, because I was his marrow donor, a part of me would literally die with him if he lost his battle with cancer. We laughed but suddenly became very quiet. Then in deep earnest he said "If I die you have to promise me that you will live for the both of us."

People often ask me where I get my zest and passion for life: why I can be in any situation and have the time of my life: why I have all this energy, excitement, spontaneity, acceptance, affection, faith and love. It is because over 17 years ago I made a promise to a dying boy that his young life would not be lost in vain but would be remembered in every moment of mine. That is how I honor and remember my brother: By living this life as magnificently as possible and infecting everyone I come across with the magic, exhilaration and wisdom that Rex taught me.

My dear brother Rex, you remain forever alive in our hearts.

Love,
Christine


P.S. I wrote this several days ago but think it may be appropriate to
share now:



This life will end someday
But the planets will still continue their elliptical paths
And stars will implode and galaxies reborn
The ants will still find their way into honey
As ever, Love will be fought for
And broken hearts will slowly mend
And a stranger will save another man's soul.

This life will end someday
And on that day this soul will look back.
The consequences of its actions
will lift him up
or burden on him heavily.

This life will end someday
But not today.
So strike your path and find your way into honey
The galaxies will spin despite your misery or joy
Eternal life lies within us
Let Love save your soul.



Christine Pechera
July 3, 2007

Richard Jeni - Rest in Peace

If you haven't already heard, Richard Jeni passed away this weekend from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. Most of us remember his warm heart and hilarious performance during my ComedyChemo Benefit at the Key Club. I was ten minutes from home and on the phone with Colleen, who was checking news online, when she suddenly told me to pull over. The news tore us both apart. I couldn't stop crying. I kept kicking the steering wheel. WHY?!

Four years, four months and four days before he was pronounced dead, Richard Jeni and I were backstage at the Key Club and shared a conversation about how fragile and fleeting life is. He asked about my prognosis and I revealed how scared I was because I had less than a 50% chance to be alive five years from that very night. He put his arm around me and didn't say a thing. Not one funny thing. It was exactly what I needed. Then I remember hearing the surreal thunder of people chanting my name, wanting me to come out on stage. I want to remember Richard smiling and saying, "Hear that? All those people out there love you and are praying for you." At that moment I just knew that only good could come out of my situation, no matter what the outcome. Ever since that night, I've wanted to send Richard a bouquet of flowers to show how much that moment meant to me. The thank you card I sent just didn't feel like enough. But life happens and you just don't get around to it.

The fact that such an accomplished and sought after comedian would give up an evening of his precious time to help a stranger in need, goes to show you what a wonderful human being Richard Jeni was. His observations on life, love and
relationships were not just funny, they were genuine. At this point, I am still in disbelief that someone so aware of life could take his own.

We are loved more than we know. Sometimes loved more than we can handle. Yet we've all felt that despair. That dark, excruciatingly lonely, insomniacal late-night quagmire when you wish your bed would just swallow you up and be done with it. But as Anne Lamott said "Hope begins in the dark". It's the only place that it can.


We're all just trying to make sense of it all. Trying to find the meaning behind the purpose. The only answer that makes sense to me is found in a fleeting moment. Not in philosophy, fate, science nor religion. Not in words. The answer is fiery and visceral. It is being touched by God.

Evoke
The awe that swells the heart when you cradle a newborn.
The wonder that possesses as you fathom and peer into the Milky Way.
The gasp you utter as a hummingbird peruses your face.
The shout you can't control when a humpback whale leaps for the sky.
The glee of seeing winter's first snow.
That "YES!!" feeling when you hit your mark.
The peace within, watching campfire sparks waft into night
The rush of mad ravenous pulsations when you both finally kiss
The newness inside when someone says, "I love you"

In other words, the answer breathes in you in the moments when you feel most alive.

I'm finally going to send the flowers I've always meant to. You never think that there will ever be a day when it will be too late.

Richard Jeni. You will be missed.


-CP

Happy New Year - "True Story" poem

It's late Tuesday night, January 2, 2007.

!!! *2007* !!!

Another milestone hit. 180 days post-transplant. This was the calendar point which marked the "less than 50% chance" of seeing this day.

After 15 days in room 5105 at City of Hope, I will walk out on my own two feet tomorrow to return home once again. I guess I've been in denial of my own condition and this last episode has taught me that I have no choice but to take it easy and not thrust myself back into the big world too soon. Mantra for the next few months: Time, patience, care and gratitude.

Christmas and New Year's in the hospital isn't so bad when you can still feel the love around you. Being in the hospital magnifies the meaning of the Eve. What normally is a warm fuzzy feeling inside, crucibles into a white-hot bonfire and you grasp your heart for fear that it will burst pyroclastic in every direction, including inward; an implosion of passion and grace in dreams of Holiday glitter.

Being in the hospital this time, I've learned in a somber way how fortunate I am to be alive. Since being here I've discovered more patients I befriended in the Fall never got the chance to fight because they never found a donor. And next door to my room, I am trying to help a young woman who is in the same exact position I was one year ago. No donor. No hope. Under heavy chemo and given only months to live. Her husband is praying that she will see next New Year's Day.

On the wise suggestion of a dear friend, instead of New Year's Resolutions, I am writing ALL that I am thankful for this past year and the list is still growing. And through the excitement of a few loving souls, I am writing all that I plan to do with this 2nd 2nd chance at life. I think it's a cool exercise for anyone to try.

I hope everyone's holidays brought joy and peace. And the chance to love another, and to be with those who mean the world to you.

**********

True Story

On the first day of the year I learned how to fly.
And I learned how to play again.
On the first day of the year I held hands with a friend in need
And then ate ice cream by the bucketful.
On the first day of the year I held another soul close to mine
And dreamt of far away towns and unseen backyard gardens
And then laughed until I snorted.

On the first day of the year I woke up with tears cooling the corners of my eyes
Remembering. Letting Go. And glistening for the future.

On the first day of the year I reflected
on a most terrible and most miraculous time
And I saw all the ones I loved shining in the big luscious sky
Sighing, kicking, bursting, soaring, and singing
Yodel-lay-hee-hoo

This year
Her arms are wide open
Her breaths are deep
And the miracles are just beginning


Much love,
Christine

**********

"The greatest use of life is to spend it for something that will outlast it."
-William James (1842-1910)

From Joy S - "I saw Christine Today" poem

The wonderful and talented Joy S wrote this for me when she visited a few months ago whilst I was in the "bubble". Can't believe it's already been a few months. For those who do not know Joy S, she is a legally-blind, single-mother, cancer-survivor and one of the most beautiful and strong women I know.
-cp



I saw Christine Today

I barely glimpsed her silhouetted form
Through the window of her bone-marrow ward.
I could not see the covering on her head,
The pallor of her skin or eyes,
Or the fragility of her weakened body.
But I saw Christine today.
I looked into the window of her soul
And clearly saw her gentle spirit.
Her serenity and strength were evident.
I heard and felt her smiles and tears
As she read aloud with keen appreciation
The prayer I had written for her.
The rhythmic cadence of her voice
Made me momentarily forget
That here was a woman fighting for her life.
We gazed into each other's soul with wonder.
It was an electrifying connection of two kindred spirits
Who have known adversity and the triumph of faith.
My eyes could not look into Christine's eyes,
But I clearly saw into her soul today.
I cannot read the mind of God
Regarding Christine's future
But I know here is a soul
A being refined through suffering.


-Joy E. Walker Steward
July 27, 2006

Poem by Sliva

Christine Sliva wrote this poem last Spring after helping me through another despondent day of not finding a miracle match. She didn't share it with me until now. I think its message can apply to any of us, at least once or twice in our lives. Thanks for the beautiful words, Sliva...

-CP


You Are...

Have you already forgotten the greatness of your strength?
Think of all you have been through
And you are still here.
Not untouched by pain,
Not untouched by love.
You are the meaning of courage,
The image of beauty.
Do not cry for what is lost
But allow tears of joy to fall from your eyes.
You are a warrior
Armed with the power of hope.
Nothing is more inspiring
Than who you are.
You have fallen but refused to stay down.
Again and again you have fought
And are still standing.
I remember a saying:
"It's not brave if you're not scared."
You are the bravest person I know.
Refusing to live a life in fear,
You move forward.
Living in the moment,
Letting go of yesterday
And not counting on tomorrow.
You cherish each bird that graces the sky,
Showing you true bliss exists.
You are much stronger
Than you give yourself credit for.
You are a blessing, my friend.

-C Sliva
3/11/06

I love you and think of you all the time. Keep living, keep loving, keep praying. I am.
LOVE ALWAYS,
Christine Sliva

Day 46 (56) - Fighting from the inside out

Since I last wrote we got some news explaining why my WBC blood count has dropped so low, to neutropenic levels. We received the results from the marrow/graft test. It appears that, at this point, the transplant is not 100% successful….. yet. My blood is partly the donor's and partly my "old" marrow. I guess you could say there is a serious turf war going on inside me. The dueling WBC's, the cells that fight off infections and foreign bodies, are in battle with each other over who gets to stay. Civil War. Of course, in order for the transplant to work, we need the donor's marrow to graft.

When I got the news I just closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. This was not good. The doctor left the room to order another blood test, leaving the door open. I sat alone on the examination table watching my feet dangle. I could hear a woman sobbing into her cell phone in the courtyard below. Sunk into his wheelchair, an obese man pushed past my door, his oxygen tank trailing behind. The flourscent lights hummed above me and, on cue, the room began to spin. I focused on my breath again. Just a little more faith. Just a little more strength. Just a little more time. There is hope. It's strange to think that a part of me has to die in order for me to live.

I just want to thank everyone for all the cards, gifts and care packages. The encouraging e-mails, calls, and visits all add up to a blanket of love, wrapping me up in the good stuff.

You have all been a source of comfort as well as courage during the past several weeks. A bunch of savvy girlfriends even put together a huge "Diva box" and filled it with all sorts of luxurious goodies and sparkly stuff. Each day, for ten days, I'd reach into the box and open a new gift that would hint at a new brilliant life ahead. It was wonderful.

I'm sorry to be missing out on all the weddings, baby showers, house warmings, screenings, readings, concerts, birthdays and opening nights. I really wish I could be there. SO much has happened for so many of us in the last eight weeks. But
summer is almost over. I hope all of you are taking advantage of the time that is left to create some chocolate dip strawberry-topped memories.

Meanwhile, here is a poem that my friend Michelle wrote for me in a card included in the "Diva box". It was lovely, I had to share it. Like the poems says, I wish that all our "hearts will always remember…"

Much Love,
Christine

- - - - -

May you soon wander freely
Among life's lovely flowers
Reveling in the beauty
Of each joyous hour

May you soon stroll
Along your beloved seashore
Glowing under the warm sun
Enjoying the fury of the ocean's roar

May the coming of your summer
Soon be announced by the gentle turtledove
And may your heart always remember
Just how much you are loved.

-M Mirandon
August 2006

msg from Tim Dutta - The Prayer

Christine,

I hope this message finds you in great spirit and courage. Today will be the making of your NEW life, and as we discussed, it will be the first step in a long journey of healing. So today, I congratulate you and the many family and friends who have supported you in getting here.

Everyone at the Matchpia.org team are truly inspired by all you have done to help bring tremendous awareness to this cause (of lack of minority representation in the NMDP Registry). It has been our honor and pleasure in representing you and the efforts of your family to the Senior Management Team and Board Members of the National Marrow Donor Program (NMDP).

As with many of the special patients in our campaign with the NMDP, we will pray for you on your new day of Birth, and continue to ask all those we know to do the same.

Christine, we would like to share this song (by Andre Bocelli ), with you, especially today, and let you know we are all so proud of your persistence and strength to LIVE.

With Love,
Tim, Pia and the Matchpia.org Team

"It Only Takes One Match To Save a Life"

www.matchpia.org

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"The Prayer"


I pray you'll be our eyes, and watch us where we go.
And help us to be wise in times when we don't know
Let this be our prayer, when we lose our way
Lead us to the place, guide us with your grace
To a place where we'll be safe

La luce che tu hai
I pray we'll find your light
nel cuore restera
and hold it in our hearts.
a ricordarci che
When stars go out each night,
eterna stella sei

The light you have
I pray we'll find your light
will be in the heart
and hold it in our hearts.
to remember us that
When stars go out each night,
you are eternal star
Nella mia preghiera
Let this be our prayer
quanta fede c'e
when shadows fill our day

How much faith there's
Let this be our prayer
in my prayer
when shadows fill our day
Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

Sognamo un mondo senza piu violenza
un mondo di giustizia e di speranza
Ognuno dia la mano al suo vicino
Simbolo di pace, di fraternita

We dream a world without violence
a world of justice and faith.
Everyone gives the hand to his neighbours
Symbol of peace, of fraternity
La forza che ci da
We ask that life be kind
e il desiderio che
and watch us from above
ognuno trovi amor
We hope each soul will find
intorno e dentro se
another soul to love

The force his gives us
We ask that life be kind
is wish that
and watch us from above
everyone finds love
We hope each soul will find
around and inside
another soul to love
Let this be our prayer
Let this be our prayer, just like every child

Need to find a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe
Need to find a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

E la fede che
hai acceso in noi,
sento che ci salvera

It's the faith
you light in us
I feel it will save us

A Much Lived Life

Hi everyone. I actually wrote this in my journal yesterday. I hesitated at first to share it, but after I completed the second half, I felt that I should. It's a beautiful day out today. I hope you all get to take advantage of it. -CP

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This morning I woke up with despair looming over me. Fear circled round my bed. Death reached out and grabbed my heart with thick icy fingers. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. "I am still alive" I thought, "You don't have me yet".

I took another deep breath and focused on light and love. I was alone. I thought of God. Another breath. "Love" and breathed deep again. A warm fire emerged from deep within my heart. A gold light enveloped me. "I am alive." Fear, Death and Despair slowly transmuted into Faith, Hope and Trust. The experience was almost alchemic. Perhaps this is what is meant by the Philosopher's Stone. By prayer, being aware of the preciousness of life and allowing love to flow, you can turn lead into gold.

I felt safe at that moment. And then I gently wondered, how many tomorrows do I have left?

Mom went back home to New York to rest and recharge her batteries. It has been so hard for her and I am glad that she is getting a bit of a respite. Monday, is a day of doctor appointments and I will get an update on the search for a donor. I will likely have scans in a week or so to see if the current chemotherapy is working… possibly buying a little more time.

I spend each day in gratitude, in quiet contemplation. Conversations are open and run deep. I savor the taste of a fresh crisp apple. I breathe in the pungent aroma of jasmine in the early morning. A tree is at its most wondrous when you walk underneath it and look up. The faces of my friends are so beautiful. Hugs are held longer and tighter. The sky looks different these days. I am reminded that the sun always shines even when you can't see it.

Very soon the dice are going to roll, weighted with the odds against us. I am still praying for a miracle. When facing hardship and/or death, you can try to run away or you can face it. Live not in denial, but in defiance. I think of Stephen Hawking and what he has accomplished despite the ravaged body he was given. Can you imagine the challenges of his everyday? And yet he inspires us by how he lives DESPITE them. It is not the external situation that matters but the inner being.



A Much Lived Life

If you were told you had less than 10 years to live, what would you do?
Would you mourn the lost years of the life you thought you could have had,
Or would you finally live the life you always dreamed of?

If you were told you had less than five years to live,
Would you spend your months in grief and anger,
Or live 50 years worth of life in five?

If you were told you had less than a year to live,
Would you isolate and be consumed with the sorrow of your impending death,
Or would you reach out, make a difference while you still can, take advantage of
every sunrise, making every moment, every word, every touch and every relationship
meaningful, pure, loving and fully alive?

If you were told you only had one month to live,
Would you curse and weep and lament your fate,
Or would you spend those last precious days sharing love with your family and friends,
remembering and laughing at the memories of your crazy beautiful luscious life,
thus creating new memories for your loved ones to cherish and carry on in their hearts?

If you were told you only had one day left to live,
Would you look back at your life in regret,
Or would you look back with peace?

The truth is, each one of us will die someday. And it doesn't matter if that day will happen tomorrow or in 50 years.
The question is: What will you do with the time you have left?
It is not too late.

It's not how long you live that matters, but how much.
And the biggest moments in life are the little ones.

With love,
Christine

Message from JT - The beauty that she is

I'm one of the lucky few without the sniffles who could visit our dear Christine in Duarte. A sign on Christine's door said "No more than 4 visitors at a time!" Popular girl. She was exhausted by the time I saw her but she still smiled her familiar smile once I got the foot rub going.

Christine had a rough night. The nurses were worried when her blood pressure dove down to 78/42. They were monitoring every 10 minutes and force-feeding her salty foods at 3 in the morning. She had barely the strength to open her mouth, but you could see the fire behind her drowsy eyelids as she forced herself to chew…chew…chew.

She's still got pain from the surgery. Says it's like an ice-pick stuck in the side of her neck. But good girl is getting out of bed and walking twice a day. A true warrior princess. The good news is that if things go well over the next 24 hours, Christine may be going' home as soon as Sunday morning!

Even through all this, Christine was able to laugh when she heard of the dubious honor of her blurb on Defamer.com. Then, a phone call came in. KSCI-TV wants to do an interview with her next week. She's our rock star.

More good news. Christine is excited to share that there will be a Benefit Screening of the highly controversial feature length film she co-produced, "F*CK" on Tuesday, May 23 at the Fine Arts Theater in Beverly Hills. Save the date and let everyone know about the super special thinkfilm sneak preview before its release in theaters this fall. More info later.


I'm not much of a poet but I wrote this while watching her sleep. For those of you who don't know me, I love her like a sister and fiercely protect her like my own.


The beauty that you are is a gift to us all
Because the beauty that you are reflects
The beauty we strive to be

The beauty that you are makes young girls into heroes
The beauty that you are turns boys into real men
Your beauty makes me wonder, how can I do better.

The beauty that you are is sometimes hurt
By a coward who runs away from the reflection he sees in you
Pity he chooses his fear over your beauty
His is a life less lived and a life better forgotten.

But the beauty that you are is ageless
It is whole and effervescent
Beyond Helen of Troy,
The beauty that you are has launched a thousand stars.


New York Loves you,
JT

Scan Results - From Eternity into Breath

Bad news.

There's no other way to put this. My scans results were not good. My doctor wanted to admit me to the hospital today but the soonest they could schedule me for surgery (to implant a hickman catheter) is next Tuesday. I will be admitted and given 24/7 chemo on a different and very potent anti-cancer cocktail twice over the next few weeks.

They are going to contact my partial match and hope that he will say yes. Unless a miracle happens and my perfect match signs up on the marrow registry in the next two to four weeks, I will be going into a high-risk allogenic marrow transplant before summer.

In the processing of all this, I scribbled this on the back of my results.


From eternity into breath.
Back to eternity.
This life is our one chance to connect
To love
To touch
With our own hands
With our own words
This is our one chance to create anything we want
Happiness or sorrow
With our own thoughts
With our own heart
Before this single gasp of the universe finishes its exhale
Before returning once again into eternity
Love while you can.

-C Pechera
4/24/06


Staying strong.

Love,
Christine