Twila's Blog

Say goodbye to sparse stubby eyelashes

It's called Revitalash and it's becoming one of the most popular beauty secrets in Hollywood. Recently, Dayna Devon of EXTRA decided to test the product to see if its really worth the $150 a tube.

You can see for yourself in this video that tells you everything you need to know about Revitalash.  Click here to see the entire video.

You can purchase Revitalash at Fantasia.

Kevyn Burger's Breast Cancer Blog

  "Blogs" have become a staple for many reporters and radio and TV personalities.Kevyn Burger, radio host on FM107.1 in the Twin Cities, is no exception.

However, about the time she decided to launch her blog she also learned she had breast cancer. So while some people struggle with what they are going to blog about, Kevyn's blog is about her journey with breast cancer.

In the blog world, this falls into the genre of  Naked Blogging -- sharing intimate details about your life, thoughts, hopes and dreams.  It is a must read for anyone who wants to get a better understanding of what its like to get the diagnosis,and go through the treatment.

I"n my ever-more-inked-up appointment book, you now find the jotting "PT."
I will have ongoing physical therapy for my right arm and shoulder. Because of the surgery, the removal of lymph nodes and the reconstruction, my upper body is about as stiff as I figured I'd be at 90. I often continue to feel a deep ache that stretches from my chest wall into my very center. Nerves and muscles were altered or cut by the surgeon's scalpel and my innards, as we hicks say, have been disrupted.
To add insult to this injury, I now have a bona fide Jiggly Grandma Upper Arm. (Let me quickly add only one of them--the right arm--has gone all old lady on me.)
     The good news is that with some focused attention, it should all go back like it used to be."

On learning about her diagnosis:

"In my news career, I had the reputation of being one who never buried a lede. Meaning, I got the the heat and heart of the story pronto, toot-sweet, out front.
So here it is:

            I have been diagnosed with breast cancer.

I had a routine screening mammogram they day after I did the Walk for the Cure.The only remarkable incident about that day was that I locked my keys in the car. What a drag, huh? I had no idea!
I expected to get that 'see ya next year' postcard in the mail. Instead, a call, the need for another look, the need for an ultrasound, the need for a needle biopsy.
And then the diagnosis: invasive ductal carcinoma. In two places.
The good news is that this cancer has not moved to my liver, bones or lungs.
The bad news is that I actually have two lumps and they are perilously near my lymph nodes.
I am scheduled for surgery at the soonest possible date. I will have a full mastectomy on June 2 at 9:30 a.m. This will be followed by immediate reconstruction. I will recover for a few days at Abbott Northwestern, then come home, recover some more, and begin chemotherapy and then radiation."

On Getting Some Good News:

"Race for the Cure, 2057
     I'll be 100 years old.
     Looks like I got a shot at it.

Right from the moment I saw that dense cloud in the middle of the mammogram, I've had a bad feeling. A brick moved into my chest, in between the sternum and the lump. It kept swelling and getting heavier. My fear, my dread.
     I'm not fatalistic by nature. Quite the reverse. I'm naturally bouyant. But always a realist.

When I came to after the surgery, I remember my questions leading me out of the fog. What was it? Did they get it? Did they get it all?
     I thought I would know right away.
Surgery was Saturday, June 2. The surgeon reported the sentinel node was positive. How far had the cancer cells been able to wander through my body? What else had the barnacles attached themsmelves to?
     We had to wait. The report from pathology wouldn't arrive until Tuesday night.
My husband and I were in my room when my surgeon arrived to give us the news. She had a piece of paper in her hand that she waved as she burst through the door.
     Ten nodes removed. Only one positive.
     Margins clear.
     A stage two cancer.

     At last. Some good news. I saw my husband smile the first genuine smile in recent days.
     "You're going to make it, baby," he said.
     He is a man of reason. He does not tell lies. He relies on evidence.
     I allowed myself to feel the first spurt of hope. It is a real thing."