Press Release from AMC

AMC Awarded Research Grant From 2 Million Dogs Foundation

(New York, NY – September 17, 2013) 


The Animal Medical Center is proud to announce that it has been selected to receive an $80,000 research grant in comparative oncology by the 2 Million Dogs Foundation, an organization committed to discovering the common links between canine and human cancers and the causes of these cancers through comparative oncology research.

In dogs, transitional cell carcinoma (TCC) is the most common tumor of the urinary tract.  TCC typically presents at a very advanced stage and the majority of dogs diagnosed with this tumor are euthanized due to failure to control the local disease within the urinary tract.  Current therapies include chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and surgical debulking but none are able to consistently produce lasting remissions.

The AMC research study being conducted in affiliation with Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center will be led by Dr. Chick Weisse, head of Interventional Radiology Service.  This study will compare systemic chemotherapy levels experienced by a canine patient following intravenous (typical route) versus intra-arterial (image-guided) routes of chemotherapy administration in the same patient.  

“At The AMC, recent advancements in interventional radiology techniques enable us to administer different drugs into the arteries feeding the actual tumors via minimally-invasive approaches – in order to achieve very high regional drug concentrations within the tumor – without the systemic side effects that would occur had these levels been administered  intravenously,” said Dr. Weisse.  The investigators hope to demonstrate higher achieved levels of chemotherapy within the targeted tissues as well as improved tumor remissions in canine patients with naturally occurring transitional cell carcinomas of the urinary bladder and urethra.

“2 Million Dogs is proud to be working with the Animal Medical Center and Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, two of the most prestigious institutions in comparative oncology,” said Ginger Morgan, Executive Director and President of the Board of 2 Million Dogs Foundation.

About 2 Million Dogs Foundation


2 Million Dogs Foundation is committed to discovering the common links between canine and human cancers and the causes of these cancers through comparative oncology research.  The organization will accomplish that mission through education and awareness, empowerment and mobilization and investment in research.  For more information:  http://www.2milliondogs.org

About The Animal Medical Center


The Animal Medical Center (AMC), located on the Upper East Side in New York City, is a non-profit veterinary center that has been a national leader in animal care since 1910. As an academic veterinary hospital, The AMC promotes the health and well-being of companion animals through advanced treatment, research and education. The AMC staff is comprised of over 100 veterinarians who utilize an interdisciplinary team approach combining expertise across specialty areas and services to care for your pet 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. For more information: http://www.amcny.org
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YBD’s Notes 1:  Chip Weisse, the principle investigator provided us with a Power Point Presentation that I wanted to share with you.  However, how to convert it  and post it here has been a serious pain in my arse, hence the delay.  


On God and Google

This isn’t the first time my I-Phone has altered the course of things for me.  One of our supporters asked for my help on a cancer related issue and in my haste, I texted my reply as ‘At your service’ but autocorrect sent it as ‘At your cervix’.  

Sunday, I was on my way to the flagons, dragons, and wenches of the Renaissance Festival in Connecticut and when I typed in the address for it at 14 Stott Avenue, Google Maps autocorrected it for 14 Scott Street. 

And that took me to a place I’ve never been to before, but to a known yet forgotten land.

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The Saint Peters and Saint Paul Church sits atop a rolling Northeastern hillside in Norwich, and it was there I found the 14 stations of the Cross.  It’s a beautiful, bucolic place of pray and it’ll now and always be one of my just circles.  

I walked the grounds, reflected on its grace and glory and historical significance, wept for our loved ones lost by cancer, then got back in my car and carried on to the Renaissance festival.  

Our path isn’t up to us.  I forgot about that.  Shit.  I forgot about a lot of things.   But I just got reminded.  It’s up to Google.  And God.  

THE ROCK: Chapter 15 Part 1: Sponsors. Shit

“To believe in this living is just a hard way to go.”  


– Angel From Montgomery


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I have a BBA in Finance and Accounting and I understand a few things about business but none of my education could have prepared me for the byzantine and bizarre world of sponsorship.

You could say I was a naif and you’d be mostly right.

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But it was a noble belief.  After all, who wouldn’t want to wrap themselves around a storyline that goes like this:

Man doesn’t like dogs.  Man gets dog from stripper.  Man v. dog.  Dog wins. Man learns to love dog.  Dog gets cancer. Dog dies.  Man dies, almost.  Man walks 2000 Miles with 2 Dogs for cancer.  Dogs win.  

But it was more than a grand idea.  I not only had a clear vision of what I hoped to accomplish, I also had a well thought out plan.

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I’d done my due diligence on the risks, hazards, dangers and challenges that would confront us on a daily basis.  I spent weeks building a spreadsheet on poisonous plants and trees alone and their native habitat.  

Growing up near the Gulf Coast, I knew that Oleanders are so deadly that their toxin suffuses the surrounding soil.  But I had no idea where Yews yewed, rhododendrons rode and Sagos sat.  All, too, could’ve been lethal to our kids and after compiling worksheet upon worksheet about fatal flora I was getting pretty freaked out.  

It was like I was a risk manager trying to balance catastrophic chances with potential benefits in irreconcilable columns.  And I was still a junior analyst.  

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Flora v Fauna

Sure I was worried about toxic trees and plantlife since Murphy pretty much ate anything and everything that seemed edible to him.  But that was down on the risk list as I was more concerned with a clearer more present danger – feral dogs.  

Down south, it’s not uncommon to come across a pack of attack dogs and they can take down cattle.  Since we would all be tethered together, they scared the holy hell outta me so much so that I bought a can of bear repellent that I carried in my micro (read fanny) pack.  

But the biggest threat that would present itself to the three of us, Hudson, Murphy and me I determined was, well, you.  On the road I mean.  

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A, B, or ZZ

One of the first questions people always ask me is, ‘How did you pick your route?’

At some point when you’re planning to walk cross country mountains come into play and for us, that was the Appalachians and there were only two sensible choices.

Option A: Hug the Gulf Coast to the Atlantic seaboard and the range wouldn’t be a concern. But that would entail us walking through Florida, the lightening capital of the country.  Pyrenees don’t conduct electricity all that well so that wasn’t going to happen.  

Option B: Nix FL for GA since that’s the southernmost extent of the Appalachians. Still, we’d have to traverse the Gulf Coast and the heat and humidity from the sea level states just don’t suit mountain dogs’ disposition.  

Instead, I chose to Zig and Zag.  Get as far north as fast as possible for cooler more favorable temperatures for the boys and then dog leg east to our destination. But that would mean a longer trek. By a few hundred miles.  Every decision has opportunity costs even though when making life ones, the math doesn’t always add up.  

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Risks assessed and our course mostly set, all we needed was a few essentials like food, outfitting, and even after selling my Pathfinder for $2000 I didn’t have much of it to spend. 

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As I was soonly schooled in gearing up for 2 Dogs 2,000 miles, there were a ton of people looking for hand outs for ‘charitable causes’ and I was merely one in a long, long waiting line.  

Two things made this walk happen: the difference between corporate integrity and gimmickry.  Well that was one of them anyway.


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YBD’s Notes 1:  At UTSA, I was the President of the Financial Management Association and I lead the most successful fundraising campaign there to get our members to a national event in Chicago.  The theme was industry against academia in an arm wrestling event and I had professors battling it out with stock traders, brokers, and financial managers.  In the end, it was House v Tank.  A 6’6 goliath against a five foot five ton of steel.  Tank won and that taught me a lesson way back when. 

YBD’s Notes 2:  The odds never add up unless you take into consideration 3 things.  

Yeah, I went the hard way.  I know of no other way.

YBD’s Notes 3:  Part II:  Faith, Love, and Fight.    

Non Resectable

“I’m sorry.  It’s inoperable.”

How many of you have heard these words? That diagnosis from Steve Withrow about Murphy’s nasal tumor still haunts my thoughts some two years post mortem.  

2 Million Dogs is funding a two year, $80,000 drug delivery study with Animal Medical Center in Manhattan and Sloan Kettering.

The first phase of the study is urogenital cancer in dogs since, at the point of diagnosis, the prognosis is pretty grim.  Less than 30% of bladder cancer patients respond to traditional treatment and since surgical intervention isn’t a viable option, the need for target therapeutics is essential.  

We all know that dosing chemo in dogs is drastically less than that of in humans and if we can get the right drug directly into the tumor, we may achieve therapeutic drug levels at 40X the current regimen.  There are other potential benefits such as cost savings but they are ancillary to our aims.  

Speaking of… here’s my press release statement:

“It is an honor to work with two prestigious institutions in the fields of veterinarian medicine and cancer research.  2 Million Dogs’ scientific objectives in funding cancer studies are collaborative and comparative in both spirit and scope and this study is a shining example of that.  Cancer touches us all.  It is a cross species disease and now more than ever it is imperative for us work together to end this epidemic.” 

More importantly, I’ve come to know the principal investigator, Chick, on a more personal level and I feel he has the vision, fortitude, and fire to make significant strides in the field of comparative oncology.  

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Photo from left to right:  Drs. Richard Goldstein and Allyson Berent; Yer Big Dog; Chick Weisse; Kate Coyne (CEO of AMC); Ginger Morgan; Nicole Leibman and Ann Hohenhaus.  

YBD’s Notes 1: To date, we’ve funded genetic or lab research with long-reaching prospects.  This study represents our first foray into the clinical setting.  

YBD’s Notes 2:  Ginger amazed Chick with the fact that the $80,000 was raised $20 at a time.  To me, that’s a perfect testament to the courage and conviction of all of the volunteers, city organizers, the board members of 2 Million Dogs, and all of those who keep the faith and puppy up!

Two Towers Four Paws

A beautiful blog by Teri Modisette

last remaining dogs
Eleven years ago today, the Twin Towers slipped from the sky and plummeted to earth as America watched in shock. As that once beautiful Autumn day wore on to evening, news outlets reported many people still trapped, slowing dying in the avalanche of metal. How did they know? Those people used cell phones to call their families from beneath the remains of the World Trade Center. One by one, they said final goodbyes as the last of their cell phone batteries blinked out.

No one yet knew the death toll would reach nearly 3,000. All the rescue teams could do was send help. That night as pictures and “Please help me find my son” and “Please help me find my daughter” flyers went up around NYC, help arrived at Ground Zero on four legs.
Several sets of four legs, to be exact.
Emergency workers had flooded the area with light, enabling them to pair with public volunteers in a desperate search for the living, but they needed help from something with better hearing and a better sense of smell than the average human being. They were helped by Moxie and Tara from Massachusetts, Guinness from California, Kaiser from Indianapolis, Bretagne from Texas, Red from Maryland, Hoke from Denver. It was a long shot to call in search and rescue dogs. As good as the dogs were, 9/11 was undeniably a large-scale tragedy.
Search-and-rescue dogs are trained to pick up certain scents on the ground and in the air. Well-trained search dogs have proven to be the fastest way to locate a victim in the aftermath of a disaster like an earthquake or hurricane. Disaster search-and-rescue dogs are trained to find people in incredibly unstable environments, where smoke or chemical smells might affect the results of the dog’s search.
Three hundred and eighteen search-and-rescue dogs were trained to find the living who may have survived 9/11. Unfortunately, the terrorist attacks were a true disaster, making it a fruitless search. Despite this, the dogs at Ground Zero were seen doing what dogs do so well– comforting the firemen and first responders during the darkest hours of their lives.
In total, 950 canine dog teams served in response to September 11, 2001. They served at Ground Zero, the Pentagon, and that field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
Eleven years later, 2 Million Dogs remembers the day our best friends experienced  alongside all in this great nation– and the sweet snuggles and tail wags as our tears rolled down.
We will never forget.
Teri’s blog and all of the blogs posted by her and Erich Trapp can be read at the 2 Million Dogs Blog
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YBD’s Notes 1: Thank you, Teri for this beautifully written tribute to the service dogs of 9/11.  
YBD’s Notes 2:  Lest we all forget, dogs are essential to our survival and the very essence of our goodness.  

THE ROCK: Chapter 13: Ridiculous Part 3

“Cast before a silver sheet,
Tracing lines that never meet.”

Those are the first two lines to a poem I wrote a long, long while ago, even way, way before Malcolm was diagnosed, and they made little sense to me at the time. 

They do now.

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YBD’s Notes 1:  Though I have plenty more ridiculous things to say and do, I’m done with this chapter and it’s time to move on and bring the first book, The Rock, to its conclusion.  

YBD’s Notes 2:  Sailing is an inexact metaphor for life.  Ashore, the time to jibe or tack doesn’t always translate but I’ve come about now.

YBD’s Notes 3:  Next chapter I’ll talk about the good, the bad, and the ugly of sponsorship and that’ll set the stage for the final chapter.  

THE ROCK: Chapter 13. Ridiculous Part 2

Here. Now

I was born in the year of the dog.  1970. And maybe that’s what sealed my fate.

The ridiculous thing is I didn’t even realize that until well after we were on the road.  I was in some jerkwater town at an all-you-can-eat Asian restaurant supping by myself and they had those Chinese Zodiac placemats on the table.  The thing you never read unless you’re alone.  
After my uncle Jamie passed recently, I’ve had a tough time composing the next chapter of the story.  As a writer, adventurer, philanthropist – cum chef you never know when your next word, idea, undertaking or meal is your last.  
But we dogs.  We don’t care.
What comes next isn’t up to us.  The only thing that matters is here and now.

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YBD’s Notes: There may be a part 3, 4, 5 to this chapter until I figure out what I have to figure out.  My apologies.

The Beauty Of Moving On

Settle in, friends, it’s a long one…

Clearly there’s been some radio silence lately. Truth? I had every intention of getting back to blogging daily after our summer vacation. I had lots to tell you – “I’m working on a fun new side project (and no it’s not a book)” – and lots to show you – “Our little guy turned one!”  and then BAM, I had an MS attack and have been, ahem, down for the count. This was by and far the largest episode to date and if I’m being honest, I’ll tell you that it scared the shit out of me. So yea, this is me, exposing my wires to you and putting it allllll out there. 

I’ve never liked to talk that much about this disease of mine. Instead I kind of stick it in the zippered pocket of my purse and pretend it doesn’t really exist. I mean, I can feel it’s weight, but it’s ugly and hell, we can’t have UGLY on display. The horror. Because it’s mostly impacted my vision, it’s been relatively easy to keep quiet. Nobody has to know I’m almost blind in my left eye, or that I have huge floaters I try blinking away throughout the day. Unless they really studied me, nobody would notice my new lens as a result of cataract surgery, or that my eyes are now two different colors as a result of chronic inflammation. That’s the thing about MS; people can’t really tell that you have it…until they can.
The past four years have been a blur, both literally and figuratively. I’ve spent them being a newlywed, a newlywed with MS, struggling to have a baby, having a baby, keeping my day job, starting and keeping up this blog, figuring out what I want to do professionally, and now, figuring out what I want to do that might sustain our family financially when I can no longer domy day job. Which I fear, friends, is not that far ahead in the future. There are no words to describe what it’s like to be locked inside your head. Recently I sat at work, an advertising copywriter, and could not put one sentence together. Not one. Yes, I was having trouble seeing and ultimately, trouble walking, but not being able to complete a thought? It was the most terrifying moment of my life. And the first MS related incident I couldn’t hide. For the first time in four years, I realized that this progressive disease of mine is actually going to progress. And suddenly, I knew it was time to make some decisions.
Now, let me be clear. I am quite possibly the worst. Decision. Maker. EVER. My husband knows better than to ask what I’d like for dinner, and my friends laugh when I’m left to choose a time for drinks. So the idea of deciding when to begin treatment has been COLOSSAL. Shit, I’ve switched neurologists four times for the love of God. Not because they sucked or kicked me in the face or anything, but because maybe just maaaaaybe one had better insight/ideas/411 on francy new drugs than the other. Crazytown people, I’m telling you. Regardless of their differences, every single doctor conveyed the importance of beginning treatment sooner rather than later. All well and good, unless of course I was interested in having a baby. And I was. The hubs and I had been married a solid month (after dating four years thank you very much) when I was diagnosed – me at age 30 and him at 37 – and had always pictured our family portrait with, well, family. We spent long nights talking about our options. Should we have a baby? Could we have a baby? Is it smart to put off treatment? Is it responsible?? The decision we ended up making was that life does would stop despite our shift in circumstances, and we were meant to have a child. (Please hold your criticism until the end. Sincerely, Management.) Since nothing in this life is easy, it obviously took me several years to get pregnant. I had a miscarriage, my cycle was a disaster from steroid treatments and I got to the point where I felt like maybe I just wasn’t supposed to bring a baby into this world. And then it happened. And he’s been the single biggest blessing in the history of blessings. I wouldn’t change my decision to put off meds for anything in the world, and in fact, have been so preoccupied with him over the last 14 months that I kind of forgot I had MS. This flare though, not only brought me back to reality, but forced me to confront a NEW reality.
Which brings me to today, and my RIDICULOUSLY long post. The truth is, it’s been kinda odd for me on the blogosphere since the jump. As I think a lot of bloggers do, I’ve always kept the most personal parts of me personal. I’ve never used my husband’s real name (Terry) or my son’s (Tyler) and while I’ve made mention of my issues I’ve never shared the dirty details. Partially because why would you care when you’re here to check out my mid-century ramblings, and partially because once it’s in print, it’s real. Well, shit be real, folks, and for whatever reason I feel like it’s time to own it. Having this dialogue with myself and being so honest with you helps me face this new sense of normal. The one where every day that I am strong and healthy is one to be cherished. And the one where I’m real about my limitations. I’ve started treatment and come to terms with the fact that another child probably isn’t in the cards. We’re changing the way we’re eating and what we’re spending money on. And I’ve accepted the fact that over the next few years, life as a whole will undoubtedly change. Yes, there is plenty of time to cuddle Tyler as we read about dancing bears and magical bunnies. Yes, there are plenty of walks yet to take as the shadows get long and the air cool. I know I will enjoy many more weekend road trips with Terry, and many more reality shows with my best girlfriends. I will wrap presents and open wine and watch sunsets and dance in my living room. But I will also know the precious gift I’ve been given with each and every unfurled ribbon and brilliant sky. In my new normal, I will be there when my son puts on his cap and gown for graduation and boutonnière and tux for his wedding. I may not be able to help him tie his bow tie or embarrass him with my kickass Robot on the dance floor, but I WILL be there. Every day. Every step of the way (no pun intended). And for that I am truly blessed. In this new normal, I am blessed with a disease that leaves my life in front of me – limited or not – and I’ve got a lot of living to do. No, this doesn’t mean I’m walking out on you to tackle a bucket list, it just means I’m taking a little break to navigate uncharted territory. And after all today’s over-sharing, I feel confident that you’ll understand it’s really NOT you, it’s me. And baby, right now, this me just has a lot of dance moves to work on. xo


(cartoon via Gemma Correll, image via Sheen and Swanson, print from Doodling A Smile, photo by moi)

Monday Mid-Century Mania!

Shhhhh….
These are our little secrets…
Nobody has to know…
Even the babe’s lips are sealed!
Beautiful? Yes. Summer death trap? You betcha. 
Gramps is gonna love this shot. Go on with your baddass hat!
99% in head size up in this bitch!                               
Giving all new meaning to “patio approved.” 
Nothin’ goin’ on here, just taking some random shots. Carry on. 
Oh, what’s this? A fountain in the middle of the house? Perrrrfect.
Nope, this party did not suck. 
Gorgeous! 
Speaking of gorgeous…

Holy time travel, Batman. I swear I can’t believe it’s been almost a month since I left you guys. We got back from our “vacay” (a story to be told at a later date) about a week ago and since then have had one first birthday, 2 monsoons, 3 deadlines and a partridge in a pear tree. Er, something. You get it. Annnnnyway, today’s post is dedicated to all things Palm Springs. My grandparents raised my mom there, I spent my childhood there and something deep within my soul says I’ll find myself living there one day. (Hubs’ soul says otherwise but mine tends to win such battles. Don’t tell him I said that.) I don’t know what it is about that place. It’s the desert, and I live in the desert with the same heat, cactus and sunsets, yet somehow it’s totally different. Maybe it’s the small town vibe, eclectic peeps or magical mountain backdrop, but regardless, I feel totally at ease there. Always have. Which is why I was stoked when my cousin decided to get married there last month. There are all kinds of details I could get into about the events that took place, but for the sake of sanity (yours, I can assure you) I’m just going to give you the Cliffs Notes. Yes? Yes.

1.) We rented a fab condo designed by my mom’s one-time boss and friend, Arthur Elrod. The pool was amazeballs, there were more light switches than I ever knew could exist, one of the bathrooms was totally mirrored (and I thought dressing room mirrors were unkind) and the front door may or may not have seared off my fingerprints. 
2.) The rehearsal dinner was held at THIS amazing house. I don’t know what was better – the view, indoor fountain, retractable roof or sunken bar. I’m goin’ view, mostly because I almost fell in the fountain because of the sunken bar. Thank you. 
3.) My favorite portion of the program was the architecture tour. You see, my cousin and her now husband are architects, as was my grandfather, so many of their guests were interested in seeing some good ‘ole mid-centery masterpieces. We decided to skip every house but one. My grandparents’ house, where my mom was raised and I created forts, sunburns and memories. I haven’t seen it since I was in high school, and it’s had two owners since then, but somehow my cousin gained access. Not only that, but we were able to hang out there, alone, for as long as we wanted. It was amazing. The only thing that’s really changed is the expansive lawn that I once knew to be covered with my grandmother’s flowers is now halved by a swimming pool. A STUNNING swimming pool I might add. I wish I could show you all the photos I snapped that day, but the owners were pretty specific about maintaining their privacy. I get it. But I can show you the exterior, right? And the fireplace because my kid is in front of it, right? Right?? Okay, good, let’s keep that between us. 
4.) The wedding was beautiful and my cousin stunning. Held in the shade of the mountain and among the sculptures of the museum, it was everything I knew it would be and more. My grandfather would have been proud, and I’m sure he was. 
And with that, I’ll take a breath. I’m sure I lost you somewhere before Indio, but what can I say? I’m a talker. Let’s chat again in a couple days, okay? I promise I’ll let you get a word in here and there. Word. 

From Dust to Desert

Well friends, we’re outta here. Heading to Palm Springs for my cousin’s wedding and then carrying on to cooler climates. Woot! Have I mentioned my cousin is getting married at the Palm Springs Desert Art Museum? Fun fact – it was designed by my grandfather, E. Stewart Williams (photo of the dashing man and his pipe above) AND, my other cousin (we’re all very close) also got married there ten years ago this month. Considering my cousin getting married (I swear, I only have four cousins – try and keep up) is also an architect who happens to be marrying ANOTHER architect (still with me?) we’re having all kinds of dinners and fun parties at fabulous PS locales like the one above. Oh, AND, my mom worked for and was close friends with Arthur Elrod, so we’re staying at one of the places he designed back in the day. What whaaaaat! Disclaimer – it will be 112 degrees. Double disclaimer – it will be 112 where I live, too, so yeah, whatevs. I digress.

I promise lots of pics in the event I don’t die of heat stroke. Until we meet again, my pretties!

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