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When I was born they named me, Robin Mindy Glassman.

At 11, I changed the


spelling of my name from R-O-B-I-N to R-O-B-Y-N and then back to R-O-B-I-N at age
25. With each change I was looking for a makeover, a visibly tangible easy way of
marking that I was in control of my own identity. My middle name was and is, rarely
used. As an artist, my changing signature helps identify the time period of an artwork.
The only place the spelling of my name did not change was in my medical records.
It was a time of new beginnings, when Ogden and Franklin Elementary School merges
together forming Woodmere Junior High School North and with it the anticipation and
anxieties of new teachers, new relationships, class schedules and more freedom.
During the prior summer, I decided to start spell my name R-O-B-Y-N because I liked
the way it looked. Aside from leaving sleep away camp early because I kept getting
sick and couldnt wait to get home and see my friends, life was good. I was looking
forward to a fresh start. Seventh grade was exciting, filled with Bar and Bat Mitzvah
parties, and endless social possibilities. It was also challenging to adjust to the new
environment but I slowly did and in a few months I fit right in. I was surprised that the
school had readily accepted my new spelling and it was soon adopted on all my formal
school papers. Then in July 1972 things changed.
The following is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago:
Bumper Pool, Walkie Talkies, Backgammon- Long Island Jewish Hospital
Slight inflammation of the Lymph nodes, Marcus Welby, MD Hodgkins
Disease episode, out of date Medical Dictionary gets thrown away! They
didnt use the word CANCER. They were advised not to tell me the truth.
Smiley Faces, Escher & Norman Rockwell puzzles, Hang in There, Baby
poster hung on my bedroom door!
The nightmare is theirs; I go about my routine with slight alterations.
Throwing up in the morning, first weeks of 8
th
grade, afterschool drives with
Mom for treatment.
Lying there, eyes closed, heavy bib covers my body: it is peacefully in the
dark room.
Soon we are back to normal.
I receive special treatment for overcoming something big and am rewarded
with a check for $500 and a trip to Puerto Rico.
I get on the volleyball and basketball team and resume my junior high
school rebellious activities.
At sometime in the middle of the year things are just not right. I am alone,
there is pain, there is silence, and there is withdrawal.
Pain became the new normal. When I can sleep, I place a big fluffy pillow
between my legs. My new distrust in doctors turns into anger as they
attempted to pick at my social history as cause for my physical distress.
Looking back at those years I can see where the doctors may have
misconstrued the obvious signs of recurrence. A 13-year old girl just
adjusting to hormonal and social changes, but give me a break. Even if I
didnt know I had cancer, they did!

When I was thirteen, I had this amazing dream, in it I saw a small brushed gold bell
necklace, which had a tiny diamond clacker. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I
had ever seen. When I woke up surrounded by my sister, mother, father, and best
friend, Marla, I started describing the necklace. As soon as I started, one of them
opened up a blue velvet jewelry box and there it was. Pearl Friedlander, my mothers
best friend, Babs mother, had come to visit me with this gift. I had been on and off
asleep from the Thorazine I was given to help with the side effects of my first dose of
Adriamyacin. Evidently, I had some visitors while I was out and the so-called dream
wasnt one at all. This was to be the start of many jeweled gifts for just being sick. But
what I will never forget is that feeling that something I thought was not real, was in fact
reality.
I was at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in Manhattan, NY on the 17
th
floor of
the old building after recently discovering that the prior years Hodgkins Disease had
recurred. I wasnt suppose to be getting admitted, but complications occurred on the
way to the outpatient clinic, so they decided it was best to begin the initial testing and
chemotherapy as an inpatient.
Away from home and in the city that thus far had only been associated with museum
visits, shows, and unfamiliar restaurants, added a new layer of dimension to the already
surreal world of having cancer. At this point I feel compelled to describe the conditions
of what was and is still now, the state-of-the-art best cancer hospital in the world.

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