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Phyllis Diller, a beloved witch for KC audiences

she was famous for her cackle and her cosmetic surgery, but in Kansas City, comedian Phyllis Diller is known for something else: being an absolute witch.</p><p>and a very, very popular one.</p><p>Diller, who died Monday at age 95, starred in Starlight Theatre’s production of “the Wizard of Oz” in July 1991 as, naturally, the Wicked Witch of the West. Six of seven nights were sellouts. Diller’s week of tormenting Dorothy Gale ended up setting a Starlight record: highest weekly attendance of any show up to that point. Starlight opened in 1951.</p><p>once the outdoor theater enlarged its stage, bigger tours came to town and broke Diller’s record. Good thing the Wicked Witch never got wind of it.</p><p>Diller later called the “Oz” experience “the thrill of a lifetime,” adding: “It isn’t every old lady that can go up on the wire” to fly on a bicycle and a broomstick.</p><p>she turned 74 that summer.</p><p>“she was perfect, absolutely perfect,” says Bob Rohlf, Starlight’s former president and executive producer. “Everything she did on stage was right on the mark. she brought her comedic timing to everything she did, and her comedic timing was just incredible.”</p><p>Diller was “always ad-libbing,” remembers Jan Morevitska of Overland Park, a longtime Starlight subscriber and volunteer. “she also kind of picked her own place to stand sometimes. the (spotlight operators) would say, ‘I wonder where Phyllis is going to stand tonight.’ ”</p><p>that production was also memorable for miss Gulch, the witch’s alter ego, “flying” out over the audience. It was a dummy, not Diller, although plenty in the crowd were fooled, Morevitska says.</p><p>Four years later, Diller returned to Starlight as the evil stepmother in “Cinderella,” the same summer she got a bronze star on Starlight’s Walk of Stars.</p><p>she was known to favor the meatballs served up by Starlight’s backstage canteen. Diller would take them back to her hotel room with her.</p><p>she is also immortalized at Leila’s Hair Museum in Independence. Diller donated a “wreath” of hair.</p><p>Diller came through Kansas City several times before her Starlight engagements. In June 1976, when she came for a standup show, the airline lost her luggage, the Star reported, “so she sat there without eyebrows and false eyelashes, wearing glasses and a pale green pantsuit, her white-blond hair pulled back in a knot, taking it all in stride.”</p><p> In may 1982 Diller performed five shows at, appropriately the Folly Theater — “Me and the theater have both been done over!” she said. the Star’s critic called her “surprisingly political … taking jabs at Britain’s royal family, Nancy Reagan and (then-Secretary of State) Alexander Haig, ‘the whoopee cushion in the seat of power.’ ”</p><p>the Star later reported that “in the flush of her fame” in the 1960s, Diller lived and worked out of the St. Louis suburb of Webster Groves. “It was a wonderful place to be. St. Louis was nice and central, and homey for the kids,” Diller said.</p><p>Her longtime manager, Milton Suchin, told the Associated Press that Diller “died peacefully in her sleep and with a smile on her face.” she had suffered a near-fatal heart attack in 1999.</p><p>she was found by her son, Perry Diller. the cause of her death has not been released. </p><p>Diller was a staple of nightclubs and television from the 1950s — when female comics were rare — until her retirement in 2002. Diller built her stand-up act around the persona of the corner-cutting housewife (“I bury a lot of my ironing in the backyard”) with bizarre looks, a wardrobe to match (by “Omar of Omaha”) and a husband named “Fang.” </p><p>she inspired a generation of female comics, including Ellen DeGeneres and Whoopi Goldberg. </p><p>“We lost a comedy legend today,” DeGeneres tweeted Monday. “Phyllis Diller was the queen of the one-liners. she was a pioneer.” </p><p>Diller didn’t get into comedy until she was nearly 40, after her first husband, Sherwood Diller, prodded her for two years to give up a successful career as an advertising and radio writer. Through it all, she was also a busy mother. </p><p>“We had five kids at the time. I don’t how he thought we’d handle that,” she told the AP in 2006. </p><p>Her husband managed her career until the couple’s 25-year marriage fell apart in the 1960s. Shortly after her divorce she married entertainer Warde Donovan, but they separated within months. </p><p>Through both marriages and other relationships, the foibles of “Fang” remained an integral part of her act. </p><p>“Fang is permanent in the act, of course,” she once said. “Don’t confuse him with my real husbands. They’re temporary.” </p><p>she also appeared in movies, including “Boy, did I get a Wrong Number” and “eight on the Lam” with Bob Hope. </p><p>In 1966-67, she was the star of an ABC sitcom about a society family trying to stave off bankruptcy, “the Pruitts of Southampton.” Gypsy Rose Lee played a nosy neighbor. In 1968, she was host of a short-lived variety series, “the Beautiful Phyllis Diller show.” </p><p>but standup comedy was her first love, and when she broke into the business in 1956 it was a field she had largely to herself because female comics weren’t widely accepted then. </p><p>Although she could be serious during interviews, sooner or later a joke would pop out, often as not followed by that outrageous “AH-HHAAAAAAAAAAAA-HA-HA-HA!” laugh. </p><p>“It’s my real laugh,” she once said. “It’s in the family. When I was a kid my father called me the laughing hyena.” </p><p>Her looks were a frequent topic, and she did everything she could to accentuate them — negatively. she wore outrageous fright wigs and deliberately shopped for stage shoes that made her legs look as skinny as possible. </p><p>“the older I get, the funnier I get,” she said in 1961. “Think what I’ll save in not having my face lifted.” </p><p>she felt different about plastic surgery later, though, and her face, and other body parts, underwent a remarkable transformation. Efforts to be beautiful became a mainstay of her act. </p><p>Commenting in 1995 about the repainting of the Hollywood sign, she cracked, “It took 300 gallons, almost as much as I put on every morning.” she said her home “used to be haunted, but the ghosts haven’t been back since the night I tried on all my wigs.” </p><p>she recovered from the 1999 heart attack with the help of a pacemaker, but finally retired in 2002, saying advancing age was making it too difficult for her to spend several weeks a year on the road. </p><p>“I have energy, but I don’t have lasting energy,” she told the Associated Press in 2006. “You have to know your limitations.” </p><p>After retiring from standup, Diller continued to take occasional small parts in movies and TV shows (”Family Guy”) and pursued painting as a serious hobby. she published her autobiography, “like a Lampshade in a Whorehouse,” in 2005. the 2006 film “Goodnight, We love You” documented her career. </p><p>Her other books included “Phyllis Diller’s Housekeeping Hints” and “Phyllis Diller’s Marriage Manual.” </p><p><span class="endnote_contrib">Includes reporting by the Associated Press’ Sandy Cohen.</span>

Phyllis Diller, a beloved witch for KC audiences

A human fireball thanks science and God for a new chance of life

Living tissue: Pippie’s surgeon Dr Ridwan Mia holds up a sheet of her new skin in the operating theatre. (Oz Health Care Communications)

on an icy but beautiful winter’s morning, just before 9am, Shirley Badke (36) arrived at work after dropping her youngest son (7) off at his school around the corner from her office. She was working as a secretary at a timber broking firm in Augusta, Georgia, in the United States.

As Badke was about to make a phone call, her attention was caught by “something incredible” rolling towards her through the window near her desk. She sprang to her feet and yelled hysterically.

but it was too late for her to escape the massive fireball.

a twin-engine Cessna light aircraft had exploded in the air. When it crashed into Badke’s office, blazing aviation fuel doused her. She was instantaneously transformed into a human torch. a colleague dragged her out of the office by one of her hands. Badke was beating the flames with her other hand.  

no one thought she would survive. Eighty-five percent of her body had suffered third degree or full thickness burn wounds.

Drug-induced coma for four months, Badke was in a drug-induced coma in hospital. the doctors were buying time, trying to figure out how to cover her wounds with skin without causing her excruciating pain that could have killed her.

Without skin, Badke’s body temperature would drop severely, she would lose fluids and proteins and she would have no protection against bacteria, which would lead to infections that would almost certainly result in her death.   

There was not nearly enough undamaged skin on her body that physicians could use to cover the burnt areas. the only solution left was to remove two small patches of healthy skin and send them to a special laboratory in Boston. There, scientists could hopefully extract her skin cells and use them to grow the new skin Badke needed.

the technology employed, known as Epicel, is the same as that used for three-year-old South African burn survivor, Pippie Kruger, three weeks ago. More than three-quarters of Kruger’s body was severely burned when a bottle of gel firelighter exploded when her father lit a braai on new Year’s Eve. Doctors initially gave the girl a 10% chance of survival.

but there are two big differences between Badke’s and Kruger’s skin transplants: Badke received hers 17 years ago, in 1995, and her health insurance covered all the costs for the growing of the skin. Pippie’s medical aid company, on the other hand, paid for the medical-related costs of her skin grafts, such as medication, doctors’ fees and hospitalisation, but her parents had to raise more than R700 000 for the production and transport of the skin from the US to South Africa themselves.

Insurance According to Sven Kili of Gen­zyme-Sanofi Biosurgery, the company that owns the patent rights to Epicel, the technology was covered by medical insurance companies in all states in the US, although actual reimbursement might vary by policy, region or hospital contract. in cases where a patient did not have insurance, said Kili, hospital managers “typically apply for state aid as soon as possible through the government’s medical scheme, Medicaid, or other channels available to the hospital for those treating patients in what is considered a high risk pool.”

but, in South Africa, medical aids are far more reluctant to cover highly priced personalised medicine, such as Epicel, which involve medicine or products that are unique to a patient.

Kili said the price of personalised medicine was at the “bleeding edge, but, because it can’t be reproduced in large quantities and benefit from efficiencies of scale, the price becomes substantially higher than the typical drugs we are used to”.

but Epicel did save both Pippie’s and Badke’s lives. “It’s a miracle that I’m still alive. I have my life because of this skin,” Badke said.

After more than a decade, the American woman’s skin has grown thicker. Pippie’s is still relatively thin and will take two to three years to take on the colour of the rest of her skin.

Thicken up “I really can’t tell you how long it took for my skin to thicken up, but when I woke up from my coma, they told me it would take 10 years,” Badke said.

“It’s still not like normal skin. I can bump against something, the edge of something, and it will break my skin. I also have to be careful about what clothes and shoes I wear because my skin can develop blisters.”

Badke has Epicel-derived skin on both her legs, her right arm and her abdomen. She said the “Epicel areas” of her body were smooth, but those areas that healed naturally were marked by noticeable, protruding scars.

“I’ve told a lot of people that I’m a burn survivor and they say they’d never believe it from the way I look,” Badke said.  

her skin is not evenly coloured. “I have splashes of colour and, because a lot of my pigmentation cells have been burned away, I have to be wary of the sun.”

As in Kruger’s case, fire destroyed most of Badke’s sweat glands. As a result she cannot sweat, leaving her skin constantly dry, as sweat acts as a natural moisturiser and cooling mechanism. Epicel is just a top layer of skin and cannot repair the deeper skin layers that were damaged.

Skin regime “every day I get up and soak in a tub with special bath salts for an hour and a half to moisturise my skin. I then rub myself with a cloth with baby oil to try to seal the moisture in. I also regularly put lotion on my hands and arms.”

Badke said she could feel sensations through her transplanted skin, but that “it does feel a little like a nylon barrier between the touch and my skin. the best description I’ve been able to come up with is that it feels like I’m wearing pantyhose all the time.”

She spent eight months in hospital. for seven years after her accident she had reconstructive operations every three to four months, and she underwent intensive therapy to learn to swallow, walk and use her hands again.

“I woke up from this coma with the same mindset as I had before my accident. I thought I could get up and go and take care of my children and do my job. but, in reality, my body had undergone such trauma that it could do none of that,” she said.

Badke offered this advice to burn survivors such as Pippie and her parents: “start every day with a prayer and only focus on that day. you can’t say, ‘what if [this never happened].’ you must only do what’s in front of you at the time. do the therapies for that day.”

Badly disfigured Badke has never returned to work. Initially, her hands were badly disfigured.

“I was a secretary and there was no way I could type again immediately,” she said. “but after therapy and surgery I have full use of my hands again and I have my life back with my family and my husband. There’s nothing that I’d like to do that I can’t do.”

following treatment, Epicel technology and intensive therapy on many levels, Badke said she lived a happy, “full” life.

but, at the same time, hardly a day goes by that she does not realise how much her life changed “forever” on the morning when a blazing circle of fire engulfed her.

The painstaking procedure is labour intensive and expensive

the skin grafts used for Pippie Kruger’s transplant cost more than R700000 to produce and to transport from Boston to Johannesburg.

Although Genzyme-Sanofi Bio­surgery, the company that owns the patent to Epicel, does not make any profit on the procedure, many people cannot afford it and South African medical aids are reluctant to pay for it. Each skin graft costs about R11500; 41 were produced for Pippie’s operation, although not all were used. it took three weeks to grow the skin, but almost six months to co-ordinate the entire procedure.  

Kruger’s mother, Anice, has established a non-governmental organisation, that should help at least one child with 50% or more burn wounds every year to afford Epicel skin.

There are several reasons for the high cost. in Kruger’s case, more than 30% of the cost was transport. a courier company had to be paid for a courier to take the small pieces of skin cut from Kruger’s lower stomach area to to the United States. Scientists needed specific cells from them to grow her new skin.

then two plane seats had to be booked for a special courier who accompanied the box containing her new skin to South Africa.  

According to Sven Kili from Genzyme-Sanofi Biosurgery, the modified mouse cells that were used as carriers to grow the skin on were particularly expensive and required very careful maintenance and storage. the cells that were extracted from Kruger’s skin were placed on a layer of inactive mice cells and fed with special proteins and nutrients that allowed them to develop into thin layers of skin.

the mouse cells were not taken from live mice. They had to be grown in a “laboratory dish” and then had to be deactivated by removing the DNA from the cells to allow them to perform their particular function. “this is a phenomenally expensive process for which the only machine of its kind is used,” Kili said.

Clean room technology in addition to this, “clean room technology” was required for the production of the skin – rooms that were about 100 times cleaner than operating theatres.

“the air purification systems and running costs of special machines, called Bac-T-Alert systems, that check throughout for the presence micro-organisms, is extremely expensive and time-consuming,” Kili said.    

About 30 to 40 staff members worked on Kruger’s skin – they were the scientists who grew the skin, technicians involved with quality control, a large logistical team who co-ordinated the transport arrangements and import and export permits, and Kili’s medical team providing support and training to the surgeon and his team.

“All their salaries had to be paid, [and] lab space, and the media and materials used to grow the skin with also had to be covered,” he said.

Another factor was the small volumes of the skin that were produced. Kili said between 100 to  130 people received Epicel skin a year, and, as the manufacturing system was personalised, this increased costs significantly. “if you think of an antibiotic tablet, they might make 10 million of a certain tablet and then a take a few out to do quality control tests on them. the rest of the tablets make up for the cost of that. in the case of Epicel skin you have to go through the same processes, but the product can only be used on one person and that increases the cost significantly,” he said.

the production of Epicel skin would have to increase tenfold – to 1000 – for a measurable price reduction to be seen, and even then the reduction in price “won’t be more than 40%”.

Anice Kruger’s dream is to set-up a local laboratory where Epicel skin could be grown so that the transport costs could be cut out, but Kili said the cost and practicality of that could be prohibitive. “Although our company will be very keen to assist with technology transfer in that regard, the setting up of a lab will amount to billions of rands and South Africa may not have companies that produce the media and materials that are needed to grow the skin with.

“a machine that stabilises the mouse cells would also have to be built. I don’t even know how to attach a price to that,” he said. – Mia Malan

<strong>Pippie moves on</strong>

Pippie Kruger was released from the Intensive Care Unit  at Garden City Hospital on Wednesday and now spends her days at a rehabilitation facility in Auckland Park, Johannesburg, where she will undergo intensive speech, occupational and physiotherapy.

She will have to learn to speak, walk and use her hands again.

After three to six months at the centre, she will receive a home therapy programme.

According to her plastic surgeon, Dr Ridwan Mia, Kruger had her first bath while she was awake on Tuesday.

Previously, she was bathed while sedated due to the intense pain and cleaning required to prevent infections taking hold.

Mia said her muscles were strengthening and she was now able to life her head for 30 seconds at a time.

her skin grafts were thickening well, she was eating and had started to communicate with cries and sounds to indicate what she wanted, Mia said.

Kruger will have to undergo extensive reconstructive surgery until she is a teenager, including on her hands, face and ears. She will also require breast implants, as her breast tissue was damaged severely by the fire. &ndash; Mia Malan

<em>Pippie Isabella Kruger’s trust fund account is: CA Kruger, Absa Savings, Account number: 1478169228, Branch Code: 144547</em>

A human fireball thanks science and God for a new chance of life

Most Young Women with Cancer Don’t Try to Preserve their Fertility

For young people diagnosed with cancer, infertility is one of the most devastating potential side effects of treatment. Historically, especially for women, who have more complex reproductive tracts than men, there wasn’t much to do about this sobering reality. but over the past few years, a new field called oncofertility has raised awareness about new technological advances and the importance of offering patients the choice to preserve their fertility via many of the same techniques used by couples who have trouble getting pregnant.

Fertility preservation has allowed countless cancer survivors to build families after the fact, relying upon frozen embryos, eggs or sperm. There’s research being done on maturing ovarian follicles outside the body with the hope that one day soon, viable eggs can be coaxed forth. and in 2010, the first U.S. baby was born from frozen ovarian tissue that his mother had transplanted back into her body after surviving cancer.

That year, I wrote about 6-lb., 13-oz. (3 kg) Grant Patrick Tucker:

His mother, Amy Tucker, 32, of Columbia, Ill., had one of her ovaries removed in 1998 at age 20 when the technique was still experimental. That it happened at all was pure chance; Tucker’s nurse had recently attended a lecture about the new procedure and mentioned it to her. in 2009, a year after getting married, Tucker, a Hodgkin’s lymphoma survivor, had the ovary replaced, and within eight months, she was pregnant. “Every day I look at Grant and I’m like, You are truly a miracle,” she says. “I am so grateful I was in the right place at the right time.”

(MORE: First comes Cancer, Then Come Children: The New World of Oncofertility)

Yet a surprising number of women are not following in Tucker’s footsteps. Each year, more than 120,000 U.S. women under age 50 learn they have cancer, but only 4% of women of childbearing age who have cancer are preserving their fertility, according to a study published in March in the journal Cancer. The news puzzles advocates of oncofertility, and suggests that efforts to educate women about ways to safeguard their fertility need to be stepped up.

For the study, researchers at the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF), surveyed 1,041 women diagnosed with cancer between the ages of 18 and 40 years. The women — diagnosed with leukemia, Hodgkin’s disease, Non-Hodgkin lymphoma, breast cancer and gastrointestinal cancer — were randomly selected from the California Cancer Registry from 1993 to 2007. The vast majority of the women — 918 in all — underwent chemotherapy, pelvic radiation, pelvic surgery or bone marrow transplants that could have adversely impacted their potential to bear children.

While 61% of women were counseled by clinicians that cancer treatment could leave them infertile, just 4% chose to actually do something about it. The good news is that rates of women pursuing fertility preservation increased steadily over the study period, from 1% in 1993 to up to 10% by 2007.

“We are definitely making progress,” says Kate Waimey Timmerman, program director for the Oncofertility Consortium, a national initiative based at Northwestern University that encourages doctors to consider patients’ fertility before launching cancer treatment. “We are getting the message out there. but I was shocked that only 4% of women are actually undergoing fertility preservation. That shows that significant barriers still exist.”

(MORE: Who is a Child? The Supreme Court Decides)

Ethnicity, education and age are some of those barriers. White heterosexual women who were younger, had graduated college and were childless were most likely to be informed of the risks of cancer treatment and to move forward with fertility preservation, according to the study. Dr. Mitchell Rosen, the study’s lead author and director of the UCSF Reproductive Labs and Fertility Preservation Program, chalked the differences up to sociodemographic “health disparities.” Rosen told ABC News:

“there remains a large unmet need for fertility preservation,” he said. “Chemotherapy and radiation save lives, but they potentially compromise the ability to carry on a legacy, something that we all may take for granted.”

Just as it is automatic for patients to consult with a plastic surgeon to discuss reconstruction after a mastectomy, Rosen said fertility consultation should be a part of the process, as well. but, while reconstructive surgery is covered by health insurance, fertility preservation is not, and it can cost as high as $20,000.

Knowing your options is particularly important as cancer survival rates continue to rise. Many women who’ve battled cancer and later had children have said that the very act of fertility preservation felt life-affirming, as if they were thumbing their nose at cancer. Just imagine the converse: that you manage to beat cancer and try to move on with your life only to learn that you can’t bear children. As Gwen Quinn, a specialist in reproductive health and cancer at the University of South Florida, put it in 2010: ”If patients say they don’t care about that right now, they just want to get rid of the cancer, they need to be told that in five years they may feel differently. They should at least be informed.”

MORE: The Parent Trap: Surviving a Monthlong Visit from the In-Laws

Bonnie Rochman is a reporter at TIME. find her on Twitter at @brochman. You can also continue the discussion on TIME’s Facebook page and on Twitter at @TIME.

Most Young Women with Cancer Don’t Try to Preserve their Fertility

Online Dating: Profiles in Courage

If you’re single, or if you just have a few poor single fools, uh, friends, left out there, you know, when it comes to dating, it’s a brave new world. For all my spiky jewelry and witty sarcasm, I’ll be the first to admit, I’m a coward in this area. if dating is a game, as so many (obviously married) people like to refer to it, I’ve been happily warming the bench with the lion from Oz and the little nose picker whose dad thought sports would toughen him up. As a writer, I’m used to sending my writing out into the world and watching the rejection letters come trickling back. It’s difficult, but at least I could learn from those rejections. I could rewrite, revise, or, worse comes to worse, start again.

When it’s you you’re sending out into the world, it’s even scarier. Short of undergoing more plastic surgeries than the Barbie wanna-be featured on Inside Edition, we can’t rewrite ourselves. we can, however, rewrite our profiles-again, and again, and again. The aim of these profiles is to give potential dates and mates a glimpse into one’s head and heart. The writer is supposed to self-reflect and then produce a piece which perfectly captures his essence in a mere 4000 characters. most of the time, the best one can hope for is to amuse another poor single person taking a shot at online dating. Clearly this is an evil sham created by some bitter married person who loves seeing single people make fools of themselves, which is not hard to do when writing a profile and posting it for the world (at least the single world) to see.

Truly, these profiles are what make dating sites hilarious. if you’ve never been on one, find a friend who is and spend a few hours reading what people write on there. It’s far better than Prozac, especially if you’re lucky enough to be in a serious relationship. As a female searching for males, I can only view guys’ profiles, but there is plenty there to keep me amused. For instance, I never knew how many single men in the Massachusetts area enjoyed walking on the beach. really, I spend all summer on the beaches of the Cape. if there were that many singles guys walking the coastline, they should be washing up at my feet like dead horseshoe crabs in August. And then there is the plethora of men who love serious conversation, which, as a woman, I define as conversation involving the sharing of values, emotions, and/or desires.

As a writer and just an all-around nosy person, I listen in on a lot of conversations, and I grew up crashing my older brother’s parties and eavesdropping on everyone I could. There were lots of heated conversations-usually concerning sports or politics, and nearly always following heavy drinking, but other than the occasional drunken, I love you, man, I wouldn’t have qualified any of them as open outpourings of one’s soul. It seems being online, in an environment where the chance of your best friends reading your profile and questioning your manliness is slim, makes guys braver. sometimes, this is a good thing. I find it endearing when a guy can admit to being a geek or liking to cuddle. Other times these guys (and girls, I’m sure) would do better to remember that someone is out there reading these profiles and trying to glean a first impression. It’s all about marketing yourself-carefully. saying you’re close to your family, great. Admitting you’re a momma’s boy, not a turn on. one attempt at a serious, sexy, or thoughtful pose for a picture, intriguing. using the wink and finger-gun pose in every picture (all of which you clearly took of yourself), disturbing.

In fairness, I can only chide these people because I know my own profile is hideous. No one can manage to write about themselves and sound sincere, but not pompous; funny, but not obnoxious; intelligent, but not bookish; and compassionate, but not sappy, all in one paragraph. so what you end up with is something between a clich Hallmark card and a poorly executed stand-up routine. The best you can hope for is that someone of the opposite sex will read your profile and chuckle, able to read between the lines of the ridiculousness enough to catch a glimpse of who you really are. most often, I’m willing to give a guy the benefit of the doubt in hopes that a few good men will do the same for me. I may not be called to the Kennedy Center anytime soon, but at least I’m willing to step up to the plate, and I’m thankful for the brave souls of the other gender who are willing to do the same. Play ball

Online Dating: Profiles in Courage