My Year of Rest and Relaxation

prepping for cancer treatment, one bite of squash bread at a time

This post, and subsequent posts, will talk about the roller coaster ride of cancer treatment. I am profoundly grateful that my cancer was caught early, that I live in a place with excellent medical care, and that I have a supportive community. I do not take any of that for granted. As I share my experiences, which are unique to me, I hope that what I write will be helpful, especially to those who have been touched by cancer. I also fervently hope that nothing I write will come across as insensitive or cause pain to those with different circumstances.

I am having deja vu.

Casa Cenote in Tulum, where we swam near Pancho, the resident crocodile

In February 2020, fresh from an early stage cervical cancer diagnosis, and with surgery on the horizon, I accompanied J on a work trip to the Yucatan. Before his conference began, we had a great time exploring the region, drinking a different mezcal cocktail every day, and swimming in cenotes. When J returned home, a few days after me, he began complaining of pain in his elbow, which was swollen. He landed in the hospital with a mysterious infection that was scarily spreading through his body.

Various antibiotics were tried and specialists were called in to consult, including an infectious disease specialist. He apologized for being hard to reach. There was a strange virus that was making its way to the US and the first deaths had been recorded in the Seattle area. “It’s going to be a shit show,” the hospitalist predicted.

Still life, March 2020

J recovered (it turns out he had Strep G) and I prepared for my surgery, scheduled for a Monday morning in mid-March. On Thursday I received my surgery confirmation phone call and spent the rest of the day wrapping up some filming for a work project. On Friday I received another call. “Non-essential” surgeries, including my cancer surgery, were being canceled indefinitely.

I had my fifteen minutes of fame during this time, my unsmiling face appearing in a New York Times article about the impact of COVID on hospitals (and subsequently Tweeted by Marco Rubio, which made friends who know my politics laugh).

During the anxious month that followed, during those early days of COVID, pre-vaccines, when you masked outside and sterilized your groceries, I did everything in my power to stay safe, so I would be ready when the call for surgery finally came.

I learned a lot then - about how I react to loss of control, about my capacity for resilience, and about what an amazing partner I have in J.

That story had a happy ending. Just to keep life interesting, the following year, I had another crazy surgery story that was truly a shit show. You can read about it here.

The Great Cilantro Tantrum

In short, this cancer diagnosis is not my first rodeo, though it will be my longest.

The administrative burden of dealing with illness is considerable, and being in limbo is par for the course. Patients need to muster patience, as surgery dates are scheduled, then canceled, because of a pandemic, the need for another test, or other extenuating circumstances. You have to rely on the kindness of strangers.

In 2020, as I waited for my surgery to be rescheduled and tried to support my quarantining family (which included two college-age daughters forced to come home) the best way I know how, through cooking, the impact I felt over the loss of control became glaringly apparent.

Cooking was my salvation

With plans for a cozy day of cooking, but forbidden by J to set foot in a store, I had written out a grocery list in my sloppy (I call it evidence of a creative mind) handwriting. J asked my older daughter to rewrite it and she did, but missed a few key items on the list.

“WHERE IS THE CILANTRO?????” It was the key ingredient in whatever I’d planned to cook that night and it hadn’t made it onto the rewritten list.

I freaked out. As my family watched in horrified amusement, I threw the vegetables that were procured onto the floor and then got into my car and drove to the beach and all around the city for an hour or two. They called me and told me to please come home.

I am not proud of this, but I understand it.

After a tense weekend of waiting, on Monday, I received my initial diagnosis. Tuesday and Wednesday I wondered what the prognosis would be. On Thursday I met with the surgeon, who gave me encouraging news and scheduled my first procedure. I begin the inevitable bevy of tests.

On Friday, I met with my oncologist to learn the details of the treatment, which will take one year: surgery+three months of chemo+4-6 weeks of radiation+plus several months of immunotherapy.

I was trying to wrap my head around that and the fact that the Portugal move will be postponed, when the surgeon called. Based on the domino effect of a new test that had been ordered, it was likely my surgery would have to be postponed unless I could get a cancellation for an earlier test date.

Let the Wide World Comfort You

When my kids were little, we had a book called When Sophie Gets Angry — Really, Really Angry about a little girl who has trouble managing her emotions, until she finds solace by climbing a tree. Its message, “let the wide world comfort you,” is one my family has taken to heart.

Because of our collective weariness and my insomnia, J and I got a late start for the hike we planned to see the larches in their golden glory. We were going to stop at a coffee shop for breakfast. I proposed one nearby, that has my favorite Squash Harvest Loaf, but J thought we should try a different one where the line moves faster.

The line at that coffee shop was out the door and I was impatient. We moved on to a nearby spot (this is Seattle, after all) where the line was short but so was the number of staff members, and the customers were fussy. No harvest bread in sight.

I could feel a cilantro tantrum brewing.

We got our coffee and blueberry muffins and went on lovely hike where the larch trees were reflected on a shimmering lake.

My friend Anne taught me about glimmers, small moments that can spark joy, and this felt like a sign. I began thinking about what I will do with this unexpected year, aside from being a cancer patient. There are many possibilities: volunteer to do writing workshops with cancer patients; learn to play guitar; improve my pickleball game; learn Portuguese; attend one of

Christopher Frizzelle

’s silent reading parties.

I did deep, yogic breathing and felt the most peaceful I’ve felt in weeks.

Thank you, wide world.

But, control freak that I am, I decided to bake my own Squash Harvest Loaf, just in case.

The Best Thing I Cooked This Week

Squash Harvest Loaf

If you ever come to Seattle, do yourself a favor and visit Macrina Bakery. Its founder, Leslie Mackie, and I were briefly soccer moms together and I am even mentioned in the recipe notes for the delicious, lemony White Chocolate Whisper Cake in her second book, More From Macrina.

This recipe comes from Leslie’s first book, Macrina Bakery and Cafe Cookbook. It makes two loaves. I now have a loaf and half in the freezer.

Cancer treatment, I’m ready for you.

Squash Harvest Loaf, adapted from Macrina Bakery and Cafe Cookbook

1/2 cup walnut halves; 1/2 cup pecan halves; 1 cup pumpkin seeds; 3 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour; 2 t baking powder; 2 t baking soda; 1/2 t freshly ground nutmeg; 1 1/2 t cinnamon; 1 1/2 t salt; 1 cup canola oil; 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar; 1 1/2 cups light brown sugar; 2 cups roasted butternut squash or 2 cups canned pumpkin puree; 4 eggs; 3/4 cup buttermilk.

1. Preheat oven to 375 degree. Cut a medium (1 1/2 lbs) squash in half; remove seeds; place cut-side down on a rimmed baking sheet and add 1 1/2 cups water. Roast for an hour, cool, then puree.

2. Spread nuts on a rimmed baking sheet and pumpkin seeds on another. Roast nuts in the preheated oven for 15 minutes. Remove and keep the pumpkin seeds in for another 5 minutes or so. Cool and chop all together. Reduce oven temp to 325. Oil two 9x5x3 loaf pans.

3. Sift dry ingredients in a bowl. Set aside 1/4 cup of the chopped nuts and seeds. Add the rest to the dry ingredients.

4. Combine oil and sugars into the bowl of a stand mixer. Using the paddle attachment, mix on medium for 4 minutes. Add squash puree and mix for another 2 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, making sure each egg is incorporated before adding the next.

5. Remove bowl from stand mixer. Alternately add small amount of flour mixture and buttermilk to the bowl, mixing with a wooden spoon until all dry ingredients are incorporated into the batter. Pour batter into prepared baking pans, filling each two-thirds full. Sprinkle remaining nuts and seeds lengthwise down the center of each loaf.

6. Bake on center rack of oven for approximately an 1 hour and 10 minutes or until golden brown and a test skewer of the center comes out clean. Let cool in pans for 20 minutes on a wire rack, then run a knife around rim of the pan and invert to release the loaves. Let them finish cooling on the rack.