I'm back.

It's been a while. And I've heard enough from my sister about not blogging. So, here I go again on my ownnnn.

Clowning is my favorite. I love meeting people and talking about anything that comes to mind. I have met some very interesting people at Dana-Farber. Yesterday, I conversed with three older men, all brothers, about the weather and they told me some jokes. It was all fun and games until one asked me if I would give him a massage if he fell and had a heart attack right then and there. I politely said "Oh hell no" and offered some :) stickers and was on my way. I usually make small talk about the weather and where they came in from. Some people are more talkative than others, but most people do laugh when they look at what I am wearing. (Some people do that when I am not in clown costume too. BLAH)


Yesterday I met a family from CT and we talked in great length about the 13 year old boy who takes classes at UConn and is not allowed to go on a trip to South Africa this summer with the school (more on that later). One of the women from CT was a clown at a summer camp for kid with cancer. She told me how important it is to be a clown from within. While it is important to act appropriately, humor is one of the best forms of healing and communication. I like to think that I have a have a good sense of humor, although I do need to work on my filters. But hey, if I pee my pants on the train one day, you can bet I need to tell people about it. While our main goal is to offer humor and an escape from cancer treatment, listening to what patients have to say is muy importante. (side note: DFCI does an AMAZING job at creating a postitive and upbeat atmosphere offering many clowns services to their patients).

Yesterday, I also met a woman, and it kills me that I did not find out her name, who really helped me put things into perspective. She was 82 years old. 2x breast cancer survivor and Holocaust survivor (at Auschwitz, one of the largest and most disturbing concentration camps during the war). I cannot stop thinking about her. She brought tears to my eyes telling me how sad her childhood was. Then, she brought tears to my eyes from laughter.

Me: You have an accent, where do you come from originally?
Lady: I come from Poland. Very nice dere.
Me: Oh that’s great. My brother-in-law is Polish.
Lady: What his last name is?
Me: Kobrenski.
Lady: Yes dat is Polish! What are you?
Me: Irish and English.
Lady: Oh I swear you are Russian. So what about you? You have a boyfriend (and winks)?
Me: No.
Lady: How old you are?
Me: 23
Lady: That make-a you too young for a serious boyfriend. You only look-a 20.
Me: Yes. Thank you. (I want to look older nowadays)
Lady: You need-a an educated man. A professional. Older. But not right now, you are too young.
Me: I agree!
Lady: Don't date no trash, ya?
Me (laughing hysterically): I promise.
Lady: Dere is too much trash for men in this country. I wish a garbage truck would take them away.

She told me if she can survive the Holocaust AND breast cancer 2x, that she can do anything. Hell yeah she can. As much as I don't like to see people over and over again at Dana-Farber (who wants to see anyone needing to go through cancer treatments) I would like to see her again. IDK, thank her, talk to her, find out when the garbage truck came to take all the trashy men away...

Also, if anyone is interested in doing the Jimmy Fund Walk on September 12, please let me know! 26.2 miles, what WHAT?!