No New Year's Resolutions

As another year comes to an end, people will take time to reflect upon the events of 2014, whether it be in news, politics, entertainment or personal events that have affected their lives.  Various media outlets display their top news stories stories, movies, songs, photographs and/or videos of the year.

Many look forward to 2015 - A fresh new slate!  Preparing resolutions or just hopeful that the coming year will bring positive changes to their career, finances, health, etc.  Whatever category in life that needs a change.

The gyms become busier, health products fly off the shelves, post holiday facials, massages and detoxes are popular as people prepare their bodies for the new year.  I always do a New Years purge: Sorting through cupboards, closets and cabinets; discarding and/or replacing of old, expired, unused or unwanted items.  It has been my way of losing a quick 10 lbs and making room for all the good things that the coming year has to offer.

Every Vixen, who had treatment this past year that I  contacted over the holidays, have all enthusiastically agreed that 2015 will be a much better year.  Of course it will!  Less frequent visits to the hospital, the bulk of our treatments behind us, full heads of hair, eyelashes restored and bodies/immune systems are starting to return to a new "normal." Christ - Some of the vixens even have a new rack!

Aside from the obvious, 2015 will be a better year for us.  We endured a challenging year! 

I can only speak of my personal experience but I believe that I also grew stronger emotionally, psychologically and spiritually.  (The physical part needs a little more time as it seems I have been catching every cold and flu this season.)  I found a level of energy and strength I never knew I had.  It was this strength that pushed me through treatments and kept my chin up.  But it did more. 

Having a positive attitude does more than help one survive cancer treatments.  It spills into everyday life and encourages one to strive to be a better person.  I never classified myself as having "self confidence" issues but I certainly gained a new level of self acceptance and self respect in 2014.  But this "healthy attitude" needs to be continuously nurtured.  I need to be aware when a negative force creeps into my life, whether it be of my own doing or an external force.  Negativity can grow like a mould.  The area needs to be disinfected.

I strive to become a solution seeker.  If there are obstacles in my life, how do I overcome them?  As opposed to sitting idle, expecting life to change itself around me (which it isn't) I try harder to make changes to improve my life.  If I can't change it, how can I accept it?  Am I risk taker that I envy in others yet?  Hell No!  And it will likely take a very long time, if ever, to reach the level I desire.

Similar to cleaning my closets; over 2014 I discarded many negative factors that affected my well being. Although this "cleansing" doesn't happen in one afternoon and will continue to develop during the rest of one's life, making the effort to abandon unhealthy attitudes, actions (or inaction), routines, foods & people; and replacing with positive/healthy ones, has been gratifying.

I have been and likely will always be the type that keeps myself busy.  Between work, activities in Ottawa and small projects at the farm on weekends, my days are full.    People have commented; "You are always so busy" or "You spend too much time at the farm"  when I am unable to meet them  when they were available. It used to bother me.  I felt guilty.  Then I realized why should I apologize for living life the way I want to live it?  I am doing things that make me happy.  Whether it be a roller blading class or spending a weekend, weeding in my garden.  These are activities I feel enrich my life.  Any guilt has been replaced with the question "Why do others care what I do with my time?" More often than not, the answer is that I have not made myself readily available when someone wants me to be.  Do I criticize or question others about how they spend their time?  No.  If a friend was in a crisis would I be there for them?  Of course!

Sometimes this approach has translated itself into a "fuck it" attitude (which I have been told can also be associated with turning 40.)  The "Fuck it! I am going to speak my mind and don't care what you think."  Those who know me, know I have never had a problem speaking my mind but there have been many moments in the past where I just walked away from an unhealthy situation or toxic person, without letting them know how I felt.  I was shy, intimated or just didn't want to "rock the boat."  Sometimes I wish I would have voiced my opinion but I guess that voice is found with age and experience.  Although I gained many valuable friendships in 2014, I also let go of others.  In a few cases, I was harsh (I need to work on my delivery) and let the other person know how their actions/words affected me.  I felt better afterwards. It was as if I let go of any anger or hurt feelings that I may have towards the situation at hand.  I sleep better at night.
  

I'm not a mean person or a "hater" but some people's values, beliefs and attitudes clash with mine which created a negative energy for me.  I can't continue to grow as a person if negativity and drama drag me down.  There will always be negative people, angry people, perpetual victims, the self centred, bull shitters and the drama queens.  Hell, I have worn each of these hats myself, at some point, over the years. We all have rough days but some can't or won't crawl out of that hole and appear unsatisfied unless everyone is sitting in the same hole with them.   By limiting my interactions with these people or avoiding them completely; I have created more space to include happy, positive, inspiring people in my life.  Although it would be nice, I can't help everyone in life but I know I can help myself and I know I don't want to be stuck in a hole.  Some have walked out of my life, not by my choice but in most cases I have gained a certain serenity from their absence and move forward.  Positive people bring positive energy...solution seekers help you find a solution.

This attitude I feel, has strengthened my relationships with my friends and family.  I made new friends and deepened the bonds of existing relationships.  I try to surround myself with people who have the same outlook as I do.  I feel so grateful for what and who I have in my life. Quality prevails over quantity.

2014 was a crappy year on a few levels and it is a year I wish to never repeat but the valuable lessons learned will last a lifetime.  Obviously some things were beyond my control but I learned to go with the flow and once the bulk of my treatments were behind me, I filled my summer with so many positive experiences that I will always treasure and shared it with people that I love very much.

 Instead of making a list of new years resolutions, I will continue on the personal path I started in 2014.  I cannot put into words what exactly needs to be done in 2015.  As the year progresses, these actions will change.  I want to continue to grow and clean my emotional closet; replacing negative energy for positive.  I believe this "healthy attitude" will enable me to become a better person and share that positive energy with others.  Just like the oxygen masks on the air plane, I need to set myself up before I can help other passengers.

Happy New Years!

Oblivious to My Surroundings

During chemo, I relied on others to take me to and from treatments.  With Herceptin, I can now go alone.  It is still administered in the chemo unit, which is divided into “pods.”  There are approximately 6 pods (or sections) and 6-8 beds and/or chairs per pod.  To keep Herceptin from disrupting my schedule, I book my treatments as late in the day as possible on Fridays.  Sometimes the floor is almost empty.  Usually I listen to music while reading magazines.  Now and then I get a visitor to keep me company. 

I realize that I have been totally oblivious to those around me.

During my last treatment, I looked around in my pod and the neighboring pods and I have to say: Wow! The people around me look sick.  I do not mean to be disrespectful but many patients are lying in bed covered with blankets.  Some are sleeping and others are awake but still.  Some even look frail and/or tired.  Some have a friend sitting quietly next to them, reading a magazine while others are alone.  There is no laughter and not too many smiles.

At my last treatment, there was an older woman in the bed next to me.  She was alone. She was shivering and had blankets wrapped around her shoulders.  She was drinking Ensure (what patients are recommended to drink to keep calorie and nutrient intake up.  Something I never had an issue with.)   When she wanted another blanket, there was no one there to help, unless a nurse passed by.  I got up to get her a blanket.

In the next pod, was a very attractive woman about my age, receiving treatment.  She looked drained and laid quietly in bed, covered with blankets while her husband sat next to her, reading a magazine. 

I remembered my last chemo treatment.  In the bed next to mine was a man who was fidgeting.  He was nervous about receiving treatment (we overheard his discussion with the nurse) and to make matters worse, it was his birthday.  His ride had dropped him off and left.  He sat alone while I had a party of five (and I mean "party")  My friends would get him more blankets or water.  I offered him some of our snacks.  We tried to incorporate him into our circle as best as we could without being invasive.

I know everyone is different and some people prefer to be alone/quiet.  Please do not think I am judging anyone or assuming the patients around me are unhappy.   But I cannot help but wonder how many of these people are scared?  Are sick or tired?  Are alone?  Are unhappy?

I told Meta about my observations and she asked “You mean you never noticed before?” 

With the exception of that one man during my last chemo; actually no I haven’t.  Does that make me a selfish person?  Have I been so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t take notice of others around me?  Probably the answer is “yes” but that’s ok.  There is a certain level of selfishness that is acquired when you get sick in order to heal.   Had I noticed the people around me, it may have dampened my spirits and attitude makes a big difference with recovery.  Maybe I subconsciously put my blinders on to focus on my own recovery and not let dismal faces affect me

I adopted the “Let’s make the best out of a shitty situation” attitude and turned chemo into a lively social visit.   There was a cooler bag filled with food for each treatment.  I needed a bed but only because I wanted the extra space to lay out all my crap. I always had at least two people per treatment -  Five at the last one.  Photos were snapped, gossip was shared and always – lots of laughter. 

And as I told Meta “If any of you bitches would have ignored me, or left me alone; I would have beat the living tar out of you!”

I was and still am the loudest person there.  My laugh isn't one that can be ignored.

What I did isn’t right or wrong.  It doesn’t make me a better or stronger person for handling treatments the way I do.  As I have said and been told countless times, everyone is different.  I did what I had to do in order to get through it.  I rely on humour to get me through difficult times.

Then I began to wonder if I pissed patients around me.  Meta assured me, from what she observed, that I didn’t disrupt but often brought a smile to people’s faces when I cracked jokes and my positive energy was infectious.

Really? 

So what have l learned?  I thought I was aware of my surroundings but obviously not.  I need to be more cognizant of the people around me, during treatment.  Maybe someone wants to talk, maybe someone needs a blanket or a drink of water, maybe I can give them my magazine – Or maybe they want to be left alone.  I don’t know the answers but I am on the homestretch and have remained unscathed.  All I can do is be more mindful of others and see if I can help them in some small yet potentially significant way; in their tour.

 From a recent photo shoot with Laura....My hair returned thicker and fuller than ever!  Although I hate calling my cancer treatments a journey, I like the imagery of the road, heading towards home as the setting.  I really am on the homestretch!

God Keep Our Land Glorious and Free

I'm going to take a quick break from writing about cancer and focus on something far greater that impacted our lives yesterday.

On Wednesday, October 22nd 2014, a coward with a rifle walked up and shot and killed Nathan Cirillo, one of our soldiers as he stood on guard at the War Memorial....a symbol of the sacrifices our Canadian military has made for our country.  The Coward then raced into the halls of the Peace Tower where he was killed by Sergeant at Arms Kevin Vickers.

Think about that.  A lot of fucking symbolism if you ask me.

As I walked home last night, I realized my route has now become a crime scene.  My direct route was still under lock down and the market was virtually deserted.  I recently wrote in an earlier entry that when I now walk to work I relate to Scrooge from Dicken's A Christmas Carol in that I  "walk about the streets, ....and  found that everything could yield him pleasure.  He had never dreamed of any walk...could give him so much happiness."  It didn't feel that way to me last night and perhaps, in the coming days or weeks, I may struggle to keep that light hearted feeling on my commute home.

A slice of our innocence was lost yesterday.

But we are Canadians and a bunch of tough Motherfuckers.  We will not let the acts of yesterday frighten us.

But if there is one thing I can take away from the past year of my life is the ability and desire to find lessons to be learned in life.  The irrational events of yesterday are no different.

I posted on Facebook this morning and wanted to share it here:

In the midst of a heinous attack in our hometown, it is heart warming to see the outpouring of love, solidarity and pride on social media towards one another, our country and our city….
How can we encourage to continue the sentiment we feel today and not have it become a flash in the pan?

1. Pay your respects not only on this Remembrance Day but every year (and no that doesn’t include taking a “selfie” at the War Memorial)

2. It doesn’t need to be Remembrance Day to remember and respect our veterans and present day military. They have fought hard for Canada and to keep the rights and freedoms we sometimes take for granted

3. Vote and vote wisely. We have the right to vote for our leaders that so many countries do not. Research your municipal, provincial and federal candidates and make a wise and informed decision. Don’t waste democracy

4. Take a moment to refresh your knowledge on Canadian history and what we have accomplished to become the nation that we are. Teach your children because our educational system seems to have forgotten about it

5. Show your pride this Canada Day and every other day. We are the true north strong and free

O Canada!

Our home and native land!

True patriot love in all thy sons command.

With glowing hearts we see thee rise,

The True North strong and free!

From far and wide,

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

God keep our land glorious and free!

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

Tribute to a Vixen

Unexpected bad news always seems to come at the strangest times….Well, is there ever a good time for bad news?

Last night, the eve before Okotberfest (my favorite holiday after Christmas) as I was getting ready for bed, I received an email from one of the Vixens.   T, another vixen I had mentioned in a May post had passed away.  It felt like someone dropped a brick on my chest. 

I only met her once.  It was on the day of my last chemo as I was leaving the hospital.  She was finishing radiation and my first impression was that she had a vibrant personality.  I also had a small streak of envy because she was closer to being finished treatment than I and would be moving on with her life, with what we expected, cancer being behind her.

She was close to my friend P and I heard so many good things about her through P.  The two girls were excellent support for one another.  It warmed my heart to hear about them going wig shopping or fitness classes together.  I have been extremely public about everything and continuously grateful of the support I am showered with.  So when someone is a little more private about her tour, like P; I worry.  It’s what I do best…unnecessarily worry (although I am working on it)  Knowing she had someone to confide in, made me feel better.

There was a selfish component again upon hearing the news and as I explained to someone this morning – There is an initial shock and sadness directed towards T and the family she leaves behind.  Then there is an incredible sadness for my friend P.  I cannot imagine how I would take the news of losing one of my kindred spirits that I have become close friends with during the tour.  Then those bastard “what ifs” kick in again....  What if it was one of my close friends?  What if I am next on the list?

In May when I learned that her cancer had returned, it affected me for days.  Although my heart still feels pretty heavy this morning, I am not going to let it be about me.  Everyone is different and cancer affects all of us differently.  I didn't know her but she obviously has made an impact on my life that I want to share.

This post is NOT going to be about me but a tribute to a fellow vixen....Right Now

T was a wife, a mother, a daughter, a relative, a friend, a colleague, a neighbor and a vixen!  She made an impact on people’s lives and provided support to fellow vixens.  The news of her leaving this world comes at the start of Breast Cancer Awareness month.  And cancer, no matter what kind it is, is a fucking bitch.  They day she learned that she had cancer, was the day she became a fighter....a soldier....a vixen.

Her passing is a reminder not only for women to have regular screening of their breasts or for anyone to have their health checked regularly; it is a reminder to live life to its fullest.  She was taken away from her loved ones too soon.  I hope they find some solace in believing that her spirit is now everywhere, around them. She will always be there when her children go to sleep at night, she will always be there looking over the shoulders of her friends.  Her arms will always be around the people she loved.

T is a reminder to take nothing for granted. 

Tell your family and friends that you love them

Don’t waste time on negativity, drama or bullshit

Focus on the positive

Find a purpose in everything

See the cup as half full

Look at the world with the same awe and wonder as a child

T is a reminder that every day is a gift

Node to Joy

Oh, the joys of losing 21 Lymph Nodes!

As I mentioned, between both surgeries a total of 21 lymph nodes were removed from my right arm.  Initially it was 5.  However, two tested positive for cancer and since a HER2 + cancer is considered aggressive, it was recommended to remove a larger cross section.  Thankfully the remaining lymph nodes were positive free.  In theory that means, they got it all.

The risks associated with this type of surgery can be loss of mobility in the arm and Lymphedema.

Lymphedema is a swelling that occurs when fluids build up in the arm.  They cannot drain properly because there are fewer or no lymph nodes to process the fluid and keep it moving.

Again, I am extremely lucky because any side effects i have are minimal.  But I honestly expected to have returned to my old self by this time….I haven’t yet and it frustrates the hell out of me

I have a pretty good range of motion in my arm.  However, there are points when I feel a pull in my arm, now and then I get a tingling sensation and sometimes my jewelry feels tight on the right side.  Both arms look the same, yet there is a slight swelling in the upper arm and collar bone.  Now and then it looks like I have a little back boob on the right side.  Whaddya gonna do?

I was fitted for a compression sleeve which helps push fluid through the arm but I hate to wear it.  If you ask me, its an over glorified pair of tights that costs an average on 114$ and apparently the custom ones are in a crazy price range (but they have a range of colors including animal print.  Hello??? A zebra print sleeve to match my zebra print jeans)  The nurse demonstrated how to pull it on and adjust it.  I followed her instructions closely, using a rubber glove when putting it on to avoid catching to jewelry or rough cuticles.  Which likely looked very strange to CATSA when they scanned my carry on at the airport to find one lonely yellow rubber glove.

Where I struggle the most is during my workouts.  I used to work out at least 3-4 times per week, and for example lift anywhere between 12-15 pounds doing triceps extensions.  Now I use half the amount of weight and my arm still feels numb afterwards.

Last week I attended an information session on Lymphedema – I learned how to give myself lymphatic massages, about the different sleeves and other aids to use on your arm and how to take care of my arm; moving forward. 

Not being the type to “google” stuff, I was the eager student constantly raising my hand with questions.  At one point I commented that I felt foolish being the only one with questions. 

“that’s alright” said the physiotherapist, “You are asking questions that people already have in their mind”

“Can I play paintball?”  I bet no one in the audience was thinking about that one.

“Only if you can promise that you will get hit from the waist down.  Why don’t you make an appointment to see me after this class” 

That’s code for “You obviously are stupid or stubborn or both and I want to see you because you are voted most likely to injure yourself.”

Happy Anniversary

Tomorrow marks my one year anniversary of being diagnosed with cancer. For as long as I live, I will not forget the exact moment I heard the news....

On August 19, 2013 my doctor looked at me sympathetically and said:

 "The lump is indicative of cancer."

I can still hear her tone of voice.  Those words lingered in the air.

The previous Friday I had what I suspected would be a normal mammogram.  A lump was detected earlier in the summer and having been through this before, expected it to be no big deal.  I pushed off making a doctor's appointment and tests.  During the ultra sound, the radiologist came in and began to do a second set of images.  When he finished and as I was lying there topless, covered in boob jelly, he told me that I needed more images, an MRI and was referring me to a surgeon.

"Woah!  Woah woah"  I said "I have been through these tests before and no one has even said that. You are scaring me."

"This lump is abnormal and we need to move quickly." He replied.

Then I was stuck back in the waiting room surrounded by people, with what seemed like an eternity to have another mammogram.  I struggled to keep it together and the minute I got back into my car, bawled my eyes out.  Over the weekend, I was stressed but thought it was an error.  Everything was going to be fine...  They were just being cautious...  It was a benign tumour or something like that...  Everyone was creating a panic for nothing...

Then on the Monday I returned a call from my family Dr and was asked to come into her office.

Laura wouldn't let me go alone.

The second my Doctor told me the news, I broke down, sobbing; and as she hugged me, apologized profusely.

I tried to gain some sense of composure, threw on my over sized sunglasses (Thank God!) and walked back out to the waiting room.  Of course Laura was anxious to know what the results were but I pulled her out of the building before I told her.  And sobbed uncontrollably in the parking lot.

In retrospect I have no clue why my Doctor apologized - (although afterwards she reminded that when I first told her about the lump she had joked "Watch it be cancer")  Both she and my surgeon had both said that to touch the lump, you would not expect it to be cancerous.  It was very mobile which apparently is unusual for a cancerous growth.  But wanting to be safe than sorry she sent me for a mammogram.  A few years earlier I had found a small lump and wanted it checked.  My family doctor at the time didn't think it was anything serious but the lump changed size and I returned alarmed.  He still did not request a mammogram but I went to a walk in clinic and asked to be referred for a mammogram.  In the end it turned out to be nothing but I felt that he wasn't taking care of my needs and switched to me present day family doctor.   If I was still under his care last year, things may have turned out much differently for me and perhaps for the worst.  To the touch it didn't seem like a big deal but the image of the lump in the ultra sound was in the shape of star.  When a tumour has little legs coming out of it, it pretty much is a text book case of cancer.  I have my ultra sound images.  I know exactly what they are talking about.

I couldn't be alone for the following two weeks.  I tried my best to work during the day and then took turns spending evenings with my friends.   Lying in bed alone at nights; my mind constantly drifted to the worst case scenario and they were not healthy thoughts.

The day I met with the surgeon, she confirmed that the ultra sound results were pretty cut and dried.  It was likely cancerous but the jury was still out on the lymph nodes.  Initially she suspected surgery and radiation.

My surgeon looked me straight in the eye and said "Now if you listen to me and do exactly what I tell you, everything will be fine."

I walked away feeling the most confident than I had in weeks.  I started to become more calm and realized that I wasn't the first person to be diagnosed with cancer and I wouldn't be the last.  I wasn't going to let it get me.

Then the battery of tests began...MRI, more ultra sounds, biopsies, meet with the surgeon, blood tests, etc etc - all of these tests are standard procedure and with each test brought about the same result:  Cancer.  Eventually I said "Enough already.  We already know I have cancer.  Just take it out!"  Finally, the day after my birthday, my doctor called  to confirm the final test result: Cancer.

Over the past year, I have reflected on those few days, post diagnosis.  I have never in my entire life felt that vulnerable, scared and helpless and in the end, it was all for nothing.  I survived the past year and expect to stick around much longer.  The year has flown by and as I mentioned in my last entry, it was one of the most incredible learning experiences ever.

Fuck you cancer!  

You thought you would win but you will never win.  You showed me how strong I really was.   You were a catalyst that showered me with love and support from all of my family and friends.  You opened my eyes to all the wonderful things that I should be thankful for.  You introduced me to the most amazing set of vixens. You inspired me to want to achieve greater things in life.

You may have invaded my body and you may invade it again but you will never break my spirit!  

The Lessons I Have Learned From Cancer

A few weeks ago, a friend on Facebook challenged me to write three positive statements or expressions of gratitude for seven days.  I accepted the challenge because I believe that using social media to put in the universe a positive message/energy could only bring about good things.  Part of the challenge included asking two people each day to do the same.  The end result was every time I checked my Facebook news feed, it was filled with positive energy from people posting what they are grateful for that lasted for several days!  How awesome is that??

On the last day I expressed my gratitude for being dealt the cancer card.  That’s a pretty unusual statement to make and I feel I need to elaborate.

Let’s set the record straight: I do not wish cancer upon anyone.  The past year has not been easy.  There is not one day that goes by that I don’t think about it.  When I look in the mirror at my scars, radiation tattoos or my port, I am  reminded.  I still can’t lift heavy weights at the gym and am being be fitted for a compression sleeve today.  I have photos of my bald head, wigs, odd mementos and items lying around (like a box of medical supplies in the cupboard) to remind me.  I think about what my body has gone through and frequently wonder if it will ever come back. 

But over the past year, there are moments, I would not trade for anything.  I have learned so much about cancer, about the people in my life and most importantly, about myself.  

Below are the top ten things I have learned from having cancer: 

• The importance of a healthy diet/ exercise

I always knew eating healthy was important.  I just chose to ignore it.  I was lucky – I could eat whatever I wanted and not gain weight.  My diet consisted of red meat, carbs, salt, sugar, fat and very little vegetables.

I decided that adjusting my diet to include more vegetables like broccoli, cabbage and kale; would help keep my body healthy and therefore help manage any side effects of treatments.  I learned the benefits of juicing (how else can I eat two whole heads of broccoli in one day?) and experimenting with ways to mask the taste of vegetables.  In the past few months, I believe I have consumed more vegetables than I ever have in my entire life.

Do I believe it will cure me from cancer?  Absolutely not – so to anyone out there who believes that eating lemon rind, or soursop fruit, or turmeric, or wheat grass will cure and prevent cancer from returning; I just don’t want to hear it and please don’t be insulted if I reject your belief; especially if you have never had cancer in the first place.  If pineapples cured cancer, they would cost more than 3.99 at Loblaws.  End of Story!

• Everyone has an opinion.  Trust your own

People genuinely want to help and that is fantastic!  It makes the world a better place.  But I was quickly overwhelmed with advice and opinions of people.  Some thoughts included that I should not have worked during treatments, that I needed acupuncture, naturopath, physio, special mastectomy bras, XYZ vitamins, that I shouldn’t stay at the farm alone, that I should not work out… even my ability to drive was questioned.

The best opinion to follow is your own gut instinct.  You know yourself better than anybody

For example, there is no point in seeing a Nutritionist who believes in a vegan diet when I hate vegetables!  It makes more sense for me to speak with moms who sneak veggies into their kids’ foods successfully.

I learned to ask for help when I wanted or needed it.  That is a pretty big, gutsy move, especially for someone who is independent.  People are afraid to show vulnerability but it’s ok to ask for help from time to time.  I also learned how to be selfish and that NO is the biggest word in the English language.  I am grateful for everything that everyone has done but sometimes I wanted to be alone.  I didn’t mean I was depressed or sick.  I cannot go out every evening to dinner, I cannot have 3-4 people visiting me the day after chemo, and when I was flat out on the floor in pain from treatment; people checking in on me was the last thing I wanted.

I have learned that if I want to help a friend, going through a difficult time, the best way to check in on them, offer my services, maybe even suggesting how I can help (i.e pick up groceries, shovel a walk way in the winter.) Then, step away and let them ask me for help when they are ready.

• Use your china and silverware

How often have we purchased or received a gift that we use specifically on special occasions, only to discover 5 years later, we never used it?  What is the point of having something if we do not enjoy it?

I recently watched my God daughter play in the dirt at home, wearing a cute, ruffled party dress and her ball cap.  At 4, she is totally unaware that she gets the concept.  She likes her dress and doesn’t need a special reason to wear it.  She will outgrow that dress in a year anyways.

So use your china when eating Kraft Dinner, wear your fine jewelry while grocery shopping, set out your white tables linens at your next dinner (Ok, I still struggle with that one), and drink that expensive bottle of wine on a random Tuesday evening to celebrate that you made it through another day.   If you don’t think you will never use something, get rid of it to either A- make more room for what you will use and enjoy and B- perhaps someone else may enjoy what you do not want.

You never know what could happen tomorrow and it would really suck if you never take advantage of the opportunity to enjoy what you have.

• Meditation/reflection and solitude

Meditation is something that takes lots of practice.  When I started working from home, I practiced meditation.  I found an app to guide me through the process which helped and I became better at it, when I took time off work.   I would even set myself up outside to practice. I actually put a reminder in my calendar to mediate every day at 5 PM.

One of my favorite memories is sitting in the middle of a forest, oblivious to the cold, meditating while a dozen deer graze around me.  To sit that still is an incredible feat.

This exercise came in handy during radiation.  Sure I had to stay still for only 5 minutes but Murphy’s Law dictates that is the precise time when I had an itchy nose.  Using the techniques I learned over the previous months, I was able to zone out and ignore external forces.  I began to look forward to those 5 minutes every day.

My former art teacher, and fellow vixen recommended that I use my time at the farm to live like a monk…to reflect and meditate.  What a smart woman.  Having the time off gave me the opportunity to think about what I have accomplished in life, thus far and what I need to do moving forward, to accomplish further goals.

• The importance of family and friends

During the last few months, I relied on family and friends for help and support.    In a post earlier this year, I wrote about my appreciation for everything everyone has done and the encourgaement is never ending!  Peter constantly reminds me how the past year has brought me closer to my family.  Yup, he is right. 

My family and community have given me an incredible amount of support and the trivial things we may have argued about in the past, are overlooked.  My friends are my second family and I can’t thank everyone enough for doing all that they have done.  I get very choked up thinking about how everyone rallied around me.  I hope that one day, I will have a chance to repay everyone individually for their kindness.

I learned of the limitations of some people.  There are people I can come to in a moment of crisis and others cannot handle any stress in their lives other than their own.  It doesn’t make them bad people.  I just accept who they are and what they can handle.   I can cry on some shoulders and others I can have a beer and talk about the weather.  I don’t have time to manage others' agendas, emotions and reactions at this point of my life.  Maybe someday I will, but not right now.

I also realize that there people who are negative, toxic and full of drama that I need to step away from.  I don’t hate them or are mad at them.  I may be disappointed in some but learning to let these people and the negativity they bring to the table, go allows me to focus on others who have made a more positive impact on my life. 

• Spirituality plays a role

Not everyone believes in God and I am not the person to convince anyone he/she does exist. It’s a personal thing.  In my case, I was raised in a faith based home.  I go to church.  I used to teach Sunday School and now I am even a church councillor.  Although it makes me cringe when I hear my name announced during prayers, it is comforting to know my church community thinks of me.

It kind of surprised me that after being diagnosed with cancer I didn’t turn into a God loving bible thumper or become the exact opposite; reject God because I felt he abandoned me.  I have actually spent a lot of time pondering this…how come this situation has not solidified or crumbled my faith?

Then it dawned on me that that having a sense of Faith doesn’t mean you have to pray more, go to church more or become totally God fearing.  I have accepted and embraced my situation and tried to find its purpose in order to make a positive impact in my life and in others’ lives.  Rather than viewing cancer as a life sentence, I see it as doing community service.  How can I use it to make it a better world?  Discovering faith in myself and having a desire to make a positive impact has in fact, made my relationship with God stronger.

My greatest fear is being dead.  No one has ever told us what it feels like….I mean really dead and buried in the ground or cremated, not that "I saw a white light for 5 seconds on an operating table" crap.  If there is a soul; are we aware we are in a small box, covered with dirt?  Are we aware we are being burned to ashes?  Is there really a heaven and is it high up in the sky where we look down upon our loved ones? (because I am also afraid of heights.)  These questions have plagued me since I was a child.  My former Art Teacher, Carol (can you not tell that I love this woman to bits?) told me once that perhaps our souls are not inside our bodies but they are a larger entity and our bodies live inside our soul.  So when we die, it’s like losing a fingernail and there is so much of us leftover in the universe.  Doesn’t seem so bad when you think of it that way.

I trained myself to be less afraid.  I cannot predict the future.  I believe God has it all planned out for me and everything serves it purpose.  Cancer may return tomorrow or it may never.  I may die next week, next year or 40 years from now.  When it’s my turn, it will be my turn.  I can’t stop the inevitable or waste my time thinking about it.

• Cancer doesn’t have to be scary

Or any illness, tragedy or stressful, life altering situation.  Prior to August 19, 2013; I knew nothing about cancer.  I thought it made people die.  I thought treatments were the same for every type of cancer and made everyone sick and weak.  I thought radiation and chemotherapy were the same thing.

So when my doctor told me that I have cancer, I did not take the news well.  I was scared shitless!  I thought I was going to die and for about two weeks, I couldn’t make it through one hour without breaking down.  I was scared to be alone because I would consistently imagine the worst possible scenario.

It wasn’t until my first consultation with my surgeon that I realized I could get through this.  She put my mind at ease that it was treatable and that I would return to normal when it was all completed.  After our consultation and  an evening fuelled with alcohol, followed by an incredible hangover the next day; my fear was replaced with determination.  My mottos became: “It’s gonna take more than a lump in my boob to get me down” and “Survive cancer like a rock star.”  I decided to turn the next year into an experience, document it and celebrate every milestone.  I was going to get through this; physically and emotionally

• In difficult times, people find ways to cope and find an inner strength

To elaborate more on the above, people find their own way to deal with crap.  Some of the women I met on the tour, preferred experiencing their own personal tour privately.  I was the opposite.  One way isn’t better than the other.  It is finding what works for you.  I relied on my sense of humour and outgoing and open attitude to get through everything.  I turned chemo in a party, I embraced my scars and bald head.  I learned to make the best of the situation and view it as an experience

I did everything in my power to keep my usual routine.  Sure, I was frustrated that I couldn’t do some of things I like to do, like the winter beer festival, snowshoeing or skating for long periods of time or Christmas parties but I had to be smart about things.  On the flip side, I looked for bonuses…like the free swag you get from the Look Good, Feel Better program or the portraits from the photo shoots, I participated in.  Again, the c card is a shitty one to be dealt so take advantage of any perks.

• Be careful what you wish for

For years I always said “I need to eat healthy,”  “I need to learn to slow down,”  "I should take better care of myself," “I need to learn to not sweat the small stuff” and never really did anything about it.  Guess what?  When you are going through cancer treatments, you learn how to do all the above.

While I was off work, I was reading about the fundamentals of Tibetan Buddhism and “Noble Truths.”  One of the teachings that really struck a chord with me was that sometimes bad instances should not be viewed as a sufferings but as opportunities for development.  An example was provided of someone surviving a heart attack to see it as a warning to make appropriate changes to his or her lifestyle.

That is exactly how I have viewed my diagnosis.  It’s a second chance at making better choices for myself.  I hope I do not waste that second chance

I am going to sound like a total nut job for a second but I feel like a different person.  I feel lighter, happier, my senses are heightened and have an overall feeling of satisfaction and gratitude.  The only example I can equate it to:  Ebenezer Scrooge waking up, after being visited by the ghost of Christmas yet to come, to find that he is still alive. He has a renewed sense of gratitude and states "I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.  I will live in the Past, Present and the Future.  The spirits of all three shall strive within me.  I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!"

Furthermore, Dickens writes:  "He went to the church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted the children on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of homes, and up to the windows, and found that everything could yield him pleasure.  He had never dreamed of any walk...could give him so much happiness"

Some days when I walk to work, I feel the same way

• It’s your own choice to be the victim or the conqueror

Just before I returned to work, I came across a powerful quote by a man named Victor Frankl who wrote about his experiences living in a concentration camp in a book called “Man’s Search for Meaning.” His theory is how a prisoner imagines his future, affects his longevity.

"Everything can be taken away from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances; to choose one's own way."

Wow....I have yet to read his book and in absolutely in now way would I ever equate surviving cancer to survival in a concentration camp but Frankl walked away from a horrific situation and shared his experience to inspire and motivate others. If he has chosen not to be a victim, I have no reason to see myself as one.

Sometimes in life, we find ourselves in unpleasant situations.  Sometimes it is our own doing; other times it is at the hand of another or circumstances beyond anyone's control.  We have a choice.  We can lament and pin blame or we can learn, look for a solution and move forward.  In my opinion, the latter makes us better people.

I am not perfect and do not pretend to be.  I have made mistakes in my life and guess what?  I will likely make many more.  Some people will like me and others will think I am a complete asshole.  But I feel that I have learned some very valuable lessons over the past year.  I was lucky and after observing others at the hospital, know that I got off scot free.  I have been given another chance to appreciate what I have, look for ways to improve myself and to give back to society, hoping to make a positive impact no matter how small it may be.

And I finish with one more quote by Frankl:

The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. 

That is exactly how I want to live!!

Leave All Your Troubles On The Ground

Now that I have returned to work and trying to have an active, sociable summer; I am going to bet it will be hard to keep regular updates on the blog.  I know I am supposed to take it easy but at times I equate myself to a kicking horse at the rodeo, just as its being released from the pen….There is a burr under my saddle.

Last Sunday I had an incredible experience.  A gentleman by the name of Alan, has been following my blog.  The connection is that he is good friends with Ron (who refers to himself as my stalker) who has been Meta’s coach throughout the tour.  Alan is also a cancer survivor (or as Kris Carr calls them: cancer cowboy) and has a Cessna plane.  Towards the end of radiation, Alan extended an invite to take Meta and myself flying over Ladysmith and my farm.  Of course I jumped at the chance….what an awesome way to celebrate the end of radiation.

Albeit hot and muggy, it was a beautiful day with just a little bit of haze.  Alan did his safety check, showed us how to get in and out of the plane (the doors cannot handle too much stress.)  I rode shotgun and just as I was buckling myself in, turned to Meta and said “you know I don’t do ferris wheels.”  But I figured I would not have a fear of a small plane since I was well caged in.  Alan allowed me to act as the navigator.  Of course, I initially sent him on the wrong course but eventually we found our way and before we knew it, I was flying over where I grew up. 

Thanks Alan for an amazing day!

Alan and I - Preflight

Where I spent my time, meditating this winter

Meta and I back on the ground

Beware of Friday the 13th

Last week was Friday the 13th.  It was also supposed to be my last day of radiation.

On Tuesday, while en route to the hospital, I received a call from my technician to let me know my lucky machine # 7 was broken and my appointment was cancelled.  My radiation would now finish on Monday, the 16th.  I turned around and went home.

On Wednesday, my eye was beginning to bother me.  At first I thought it was allergies but it seemed to feel worse as the day progressed.  By the afternoon, my colleague poked his head over my cubicle, took one look at me and said "You need to go home RIGHT NOW" Then others congregated around my cubicle saying the same thing.

The next few minutes was a whirlwind of panic -  Lisa started to wipe everything off with Lysol wipes and I heard someone say "She touched the coffee machine!!" Before I knew it, was tossed out of the office.

Pink Eye

I still have a foot print on my ass from being kicked out the door. I thought I heard a match strike as they set fire to my cubicle.

I never had an eye infection before so I googled pink eye, looking for home remedies to soothe it.  Now I learned after being diagnosed with cancer, that the internet can scare the bejeezus out of you.  Often the internet will give you worst case scenarios.  In this circumstance, my eye looked 10 times worse than any image found on the internet.  By Thursday afternoon I was sitting in the Eye Institute with what appeared to be a new strain of virus.  Automatic 2 week ban from the office.  When they took swabs from my eye, it reminded Carolyn of the scene in the 40 Year Old Virgin where they wax Steve Carrell's chest.  I screamed everything short of "Jesus Monkey F*ck!"  I knew things were not going to end well when the resident used the same Qtip to check both eyes and on Friday morning, the infection spread to both eyes.

My cousin nicknamed me the Cyclops...he was being flattering.

Radiation went ahead as planned.  The technicians wore gloves and basically ordered a Hazmat team to clean the room upon my departure.  I didn't get to ring the bell on Monday after my last radiation...what can I expect?  I am contagious.  No big deal, it never seemed very loud when others rang it.  What I should have done was select an alert from my iPhone as I walked down the hall....Great ideas sometimes come after the fact.

Ironically, the song playing during my last radiation was Frank Sinatra's (I did it) My Way  .....Fitting

Afterwards, I headed upstairs to emergency because my throat was killing me and after a 4 hour wait was told I have strep throat.  All the staff looked at me with sympathy.  I was pretty pathetic looking.

This is what happens when you go to the hospital everyday - You pick up germs.  Then your body/immune systems gets knocked down and you get even more sick.

Jeff told me this is my body's way of telling me to slow down.

Oh yeah?  Well I wish my body would shut up and give me a break

In addition, my Herceptin treatment has been postponed by a week.  I'm not surprised. It wouldn't be fair to walk into the chemo unit and expose anything contagious to people with no immune system.

A little penicillin and a little rest, and I am back to normal but I am still not allowed back in the office until my Dr note expires.  I have nicknamed myself the Office Leper.

Working from home reminds me of chemo days - I wasn't crazy about it at that time either, and its especially hard when the weather is so beautiful...but whaddya gonna do?

Will make up for lost time in July

Avoiding the "What Ifs"

Now that I am half way through radiation, things are running a bit more efficiently.  I find I do not wait as long for a machine and have realized, I should do a little shopping in the neighbourhood of the hospital, etc to kill time during rush hour, before heading home.  I have my routine down to an almost science.  Hop on the bed, crack a few jokes and get the show on the road.

Sometimes the technicians play music.  I have not brought any music to share as they probably would not enjoy my selections and the actual radiation takes less time than most songs.  One day, Mr Tambourine Man by Bob Dylan was playing.  For someone who enjoys good 80s hair metal, having to lie still and listen to Dylan’s whiny voice was the equivalent to Chinese water torture.  Other tunes include hits from the Bee Gees or Cold Play and have been better selections for me.

Speaking of lying still, I noticed mesh masks on a wall behind me.  They are for people receiving radiation to the head area.  Masks are fitted to the patient in order to keep their head perfectly still, as they do not want any other vital organs hit.  Now that is scary stuff for a whole lot of reasons, including the whole claustrophobic aspect.  You never have to look far for someone who has it worse than you.

So far the skin has become red and a little bit of pain but nothing worse than the time I spent an afternoon in Miami, on the beach wearing an SPF 8 oil…..That was an incredibly dumb idea.

I have even met a few new cancer vixens!  When you visit the same waiting room every day, you are bound to start a conversation.  I notice that I tend to gravitate towards women who appear to be my age and I am fascinated by everyone’s story.

Over Victoria Day weekend, I had a few family members and friends over for the first bonfire of the season.  What a fantastic night!  It was chilly but at least the stayed bugs away.  All the kids had an excellent time just running around in the back yard with a soccer ball.  Brigitte brought over the most amazing popcorn (which does not help losing the 25 lbs I gained during chemo) and my God Child, Delaney has decided she wants to move to my farm.

My cousin's son commented that he forgot what I look like with hair....You know what?  So do I

After everyone left and as I was bringing cups and snacks inside, I checked my emails on my phone.  I received a message from one of my fellow cancer vixens.  I had met one her friends briefly on the day of my last chemo.  This woman  finished her chemo and radiation to treat breast cancer in March.  She recently has found out that her cancer has returned to her liver and its inoperable.  If anything would wipe a feel good smile off my face form the evening’s festivities; it would be that.  I think you could hear a needle scratch right off the record....How can that happen??  She would’ve had all the same bone, chest, liver tests prior to chemo and they were clean.  She put her body through hell and back with chemo, plus radiation….only to have cancer return in a couple of months?

I felt horrible and scared for her.  I believe there is an automatic bond that is shared with women who have been diagnosed and treated with breast cancer.  Even though I only met her once, can only imagine what a blow it must be to her and her family.  I worried about my friend too, as I can imagine the thoughts running through her head.  Then I got completely selfish and started thinking about myself.  What if this happens to me?  I have mentally prepared myself of the chance that my cancer may return.  And decided I will just go through the same motions I went through in the past few months and pull through.  I may not be as chipper as I have been during this tour but you learn to manage.  I also would never in a million years expect it to return that quickly.

The thought weighed heavy on my mind for a few days.  I was a bit emotional pulling into the Cancer Centre’s parking lot, thinking what’s the point of doing this?

Then I realized I was being the biggest hypocrite ever.  First of all; how dare I make this about me.  I have become so selfish and it isn't about me - It's about someone else.  Any energy I have should be directed in sending positive vibes and prayers her way.  Secondly, I have been adamant about not having people feel sorry for me so why am I feeling sorry for myself…over something that has not even happened???

Apparently these fears are common – the whole “what if this doesn’t work?  What if it comes back?”   Kim, being the counsellor she is, gave me a fantastic analogy:  My 4 year old Godchild and her sister are afraid that an alligator lives under their bed and will come to eat them in the middle of the night.  It likely will never happen but a perfectly justifiable fear for a young child.  It is also justifiable that a 39 year old woman being treated for breast cancer, has a fear of it returning.  It doesn’t mean it will happen.

I don’t want to live my life like that...wondering if my cancer returns.  Cancer has taught me, among other things; life is too short to waste on the “what if” or the “shoulda.”  There are always going to be circumstances beyond your control but its up to yourself to direct your energy towards what is important to you and keep it positive. 

My nephew and I...he forgot what I look like with long hair but he will soon be reminded

Radiation - Week One

Last week was the first week of radiation.   It certainly is a big change from chemo.

In addition to far less severe side effects, I can now drive myself to and from therapy.   Although wait times can be a nightmare,  the actual radiation lasts only a few minutes. And there are no needles involved.

How does it work?  Every Thursday,  I get my appointments for the following week. Upon arrival,  I scan myself in, change into a hospital gown and wait to be called.....

And some days, I wait a long time....

The hospital tries to schedule as many people as possible.   That's a great idea if everyone arrives on time and actually lie still for whatever amount of time required to complete their treatment.  That is often not the case.  Technicians can spend a good 10 - 15 minutes to line someone up for their treatment, only to have the person move or suddenly have an urgent need to run to the washroom.   I also heard most people ask for morning appointments and often that is when the back logs occur.  I asked to be scheduled towards the end of the day, thinking most scheduling issues would be resolved and it also wouldn't disrupt my work day.  After the second day of waiting approximately an hour for a ten minute treatment, I began to wonder if I made a mistake.

Then on the days I do not wait for a machine I still ponder if I made the right choice of requesting end of day appointments, as I sit in rush hour traffic.

I can't win

The machine is in a large, cold room and the technicians' hands are equally as cold.  They adjust me on the bed, lining up my tattoos to the machine.   The same machine is used each time to ensure I receive as close as possible the exact same treatment every time.   I'm machine lucky #7.

Once I am lined up, that's it.  No moving.   Murphy's Law dictates that is about the same time I get an itch. There has been at least one instance where I have asked one of the Technicians to scratch my cheek or rub my eye.

I say the same thing every time the Technicians leave the leave the room.  "If you need me, I'll be here."  I think its worth a smile.  Once the actual radiation process starts, the arm of the machine rotates from side to side, stopping about 3-4 times over the area and emits radiation.  Its hard to explain - Although I don't feel anything; I do at the same time, feel like a wave passing over the area.  Its very hard to explain. The whole process takes maybe 5-7 minutes.

Usually, while lying there, I use the time to practice my meditation. Imagining your breathing patterns as a circular motion or focusing on how your breath suspends in between inhales/exhales should take your mind of any itches or urges to pee.  However, Technicians can see and hear me from the other room and I am very tempted to serenade the team.  The only song that has popped into my head so far is Donna Summer's Hot Stuff.  Don't ask me why.

Maybe I should post a request on Facebook asking for jokes.

Inked and Tatted

I returned to work this week.  It feels great to trade in my sweat pants for dress pants and be back in the office with all of my team mates after working from home and then being off work.  I feel like I have a purpose again.

Its amazing all the little things you can forget in such a short period of time.  I forgot passwords, my phone number, where to find things; even how to make an outgoing call.  Slowly I am getting back into the saddle.

The first order of business was assessing what clothing I own that still fits.  People may think I hide my weight gain well (or they are just being polite) but according to my wardrobe there is no hiding the fact.  I was late for work on the first day because I was thrashing around my bedroom, like a fish out of water, getting my tights on. Not like I could place the blame on my hair.

This too shall pass.....

Radiation begins next week and should be a cake walk compared to what my body has been through with chemotherapy and surgery. 

I had my "radiation prep" last week.  I decided to forgo the radiation school.  At the start of all this, my motto was "knowledge is power" and I read all the literature provided by the hospital, attended chemo school; taking detailed notes.  Now my motto is "learn as I go."  There are only so many times one can go to a hospital.  I figure I have to go to radiation anyways and someone will tell me what to do or what to expect while I am there. 

I don't remember how many treatments I have.  I am pretty sure I was told 23 treatments plus 5 booster treatments (whatever that means) for a total of 28, delivered every day for 5 1/2 weeks.  Again, I will just keep going until they stop giving me appointment cards.  The targeted radiation area includes breast, armpit and collar bone.  The purpose is to ensure there are no little cancer floaties that escaped chemo and surgery.  Symptoms include possible fatigue which could be a result of having to go to the hospital and deal with parking idiots every day.

I got a parking pass to the hospital.  God help me if I turn into one of them!

Other possible symptoms include skin irritations and a sore throat.  Sarah described the skin irritation equivalent to a tag from your clothing rubbing against your skin.  Annoying but completely manageable.  So I signed up for inline skating lessons during that time.  The thought of possibly falling down and breaking my neck will take my mind off any old skin irritation.

My prep consisted of a CT Scan which will help Dr. C determine my treatments.  I was able to keep my arm over my head for approximately 20 minutes, during set up and scan. There is always a concern of mobility after surgery but I no issues at all and that means a green light to start radiation on the 6th.

I also received my radiation tattoos: 5 small dots to ensure that my body is lined up each time I receive treatment.  Now this is an actual tattoo, applied with a needle and ink. You don't want those bad boys washing off prior to treatment. I am ticklish and have repeatedly mentioned my loud laugh.  Well imagine the noise I made while getting marked up.  A doctor even walked into the room to ask what all the noise was about and was shocked to hear it was my laugh.

"Usually we have people crying."

Not me.

Any crazy ideas I ever had of having the profile of Jesus tattooed along my ribcage has gone out the window.  It would look like scribbles given the way I squirm.  I would have grabbed onto the Technologists shoulder for support, as I did with my nurse when he gave me a needle, but I figured that could end horribly.

The other excellent piece of news I would like to share is the following day I visited my Surgeon.  She informed me that 16 more lymph nodes were removed in the last surgery and all were cancer free.  Everything seems to be healing well and I should have full sensation back in my arm in a couple of months.  But each day it gets better and better.

I also didn't say anything stupid as they were putting me under for surgery...again, she may just be polite.

So life seems to be slowly returning to normal:  I have moved back to Ottawa, am back at work, my hair is growing back rapidly, and am starting to work out again.  Sure I am tired at the end of the day right now and that may continue until after radiation but who cares? My goal right now is to have a lifestyle again where I can talk about something else other than cancer.  When you leave your job, the gym, your friends; constantly visit a doctor and have the visible side effects of chemotherapy (aka - hair loss;) the topic of your cancer tour constantly pops its head during your conversations.  I would much rather discuss rollerblading, gardening, home renovations...even the rotting whale in Newfoundland.

Boredom

Not that I ever wish to have another session of chemo again in my life, but recovering from surgery this past week was, in my opinion, more difficult.

At least during chemo, I was completely knocked down for a few days, and wanted to sleep.   The days of muscle pain, I stayed heavily medicated until it passed and could physically function during the sore mouth period.  But it's a whole different ball game when you physically feel alert except for one portion of your body which has a sharp nagging pain, you can't properly shower,  can't lift anything, can't drive and have a drain hanging out of your armpit.  Oh yeah,  and let's not forget it was the longest winter ever and this week has been beautiful weather.  It sucks when you are limited in what you can physically do.

Sitting still isn't one of my many talents.  I get very distracted by even a dirty glass in the sink.   I argue that I am not anal but merely a German Virgo. So imagine how hard it can be to sit still with my arm propped up, watching Netflix.   I was going stir crazy...until I discovered reruns of Good Times.  Boy, does JJ make me laugh!  But eventually I got bored of him too.

On Monday, my nurse yelled at me for lifting a chair. That was nothing!  I had already made the bed and folded laundry.  Things need to get done and I am the only person who will do them the way I like it.  I remind myself of my late great aunt Martha who in her 90s fell out of bed one morning...and it was a good thing because she saw spots under the bed where her home care provider had missed cleaning.

Getting a little "wacky shacky," I decided to do a little shopping at the mall.  I purchased few items which felt like carrying a sack of potatoes on the walk home.  Instead of thrashing around in a change room, decided to try on my new clothes when I got home.   Dumb idea.  First shirt was fine....second?  I can't pull anything on over my head. And it hurt even more taking it off.  Will wait until next week.

I walked out later to meet Sacha for a coffee.  Keeping the drain discreet was a bit of an issue.   No matter which way, it was always bulging out.  If I pinned it to my bra, it looked like a third breast.  Waist line wasn't bad but definitely a major inconvenience when you have to go to the bathroom (especially if you forget to unpin it and then you are back at square one in the pain department.)  So I squeezed the bulb to shrink it, tucked it in the side of my bra, in my armpit....equally as stupid and uncomfortable.  I kept grabbing myself at the Starbucks.

Removing the drain was the weirdest feeling while pulling out the tube.  Not necessarily painful.  Again, I jacked myself up on drugs to minimize the pain as grabbed unto my nurse for dear life.

Life is definitely better without the drain and I can take a full shower but won't be back in full swing for a while.  Guess baseball is off the list if things to do this spring.

Surgery is a Comedy

I don't know if it is nerves but I always seem to find hilarious moments on surgery day.

Last Friday was, what I hope, my final surgery.  I felt ill prepared compared to the previous surgery.   Likely because I didn't see my surgeon in advance to have all my questions answered,  but there comes a point when you want to avoid unnecessary doctor appointments.

Thursday was preparation day:  Cleaning, grocery shopping,  packing a little bag for the hospital.  Fasting began at 11 PM, Thursday evening and by 11:01 my tummy was growling.  Surgery was scheduled for 12:20...and in my fantasy land, I envisioned my body emaciated, weak from hunger upon my release.  Even if that was the case, I have 20+ pounds from chemo to keep me going.  I did cheat and had a small cup of black coffee in the morning.   If the nurses expect cooperation from me, there better be some caffeine running through my veins.

One of the things I noticed during chemo, is I look and feel totally bad ass walking down the halls of a hospital,  dressed head to toe in black with a skull emblazoned across my chest.  Motorhead's Hellraiser usually plays in my head.  When Meta dropped me off at the Monfort, I am pretty sure I got a raised eyebrow or two from the senior volunteers when I waltzed through the front door.   Sadly, no make up and my little pink sneakers, weakened my tough bitch image.

This time my bed was further away from the nurses station where they stand around,  drinking their coffee.  I closed my curtain to completely avoid them taunting me with their Tim Hortons.

"Well you want us to be on the ball."  A nurse commented

I had no comeback for her.

Since Kim's last literary selection was such a hit, she provided me with another Chelsea Handler book to keep me entertained while waiting. I tried hard not to laugh out loud but behind closed curtains, muffling my laugh sounded more like I was crying.

No matter how many blood tests or treatments I receive,  I am still the biggest baby when it comes to needles.  I was hoping they could use my port but no such luck.   The nurse tasked with inserting my pic line, assured me she was the best and wouldn't hurt me.  SHE LIED.  It is never a good sign when she constantly rubs your arm,  looking for a good vein.   And the random taps to bring blood to the surface, definitely means it is going to hurt like hell.  I just finished chemo, I don't have a good vein left!

I hurt, I'm tired,  hungry, cranky and I want coffee!!

At least surgery was on schedule.  This made me very happy.   Cancer is a giant lesson of "going with the flow" that I haven't mastered.  I still hate waiting and want my life scheduled at least three weeks in advance.  The nurse and a porter helped me into a wheelchair to take me to the operating room.  I removed the hospital gown I used as a house coat, exposing my back side.  The porter held the top of my gown shut.  "That wasn't the half I am worried about exposing, genius."

Then one of those cool moments happened where you wonder if it's "a sign."  As I am being wheeled away, a nurse pats me on the leg and says "It's time to rock n roll,  my dear."  Since I decided that my cancer treatment would have a rock n roll flair, I took it as a sign that every thing was going to be alright.

I was in the same operating room as last time.  As my 20 something porter helped me unto the table, I started to flirt with him.  Why not?  Never mind I am wearing a hospital gown in the world's most unflattering color, have no make up, no hair,  sporting blue shower caps on my feet and one on my head....and I am old enough to be his teenage mother.  I am blaming nervousness again or sedation.  I am such a loser.

I have learned that when I am nervous,  I laugh. Those who know me, know I have a very loud laugh.  The echo carries well in the operating room and again, a nurse jumped about four feet into the air when she touched me with her cold hands.

I always tell the anesthesiologist that I wish to be deprived of all my senses and he gets it right every time.  The next thing I remember was coming around in the recovery room.  He may have been a little too eager to please because I could not function for hours later.   In fact, I didn't respond well to the sedation.  I had nausea and received Gravol which knocked me down even more.  Poor Kim and Shawn - stuck waiting about 2 1/2 hours longer than expected.   I vaguely remember calling Shawn, telling him it was like being on the worst drunk ever.  The nurses were adamant about me sitting in a chair and it took two of them to carry me across the room.  Now, as I mentioned earlier, I don't want to spend any more time in a hospital than required but at that point, I wanted to have a sleepover at the Monfort.  I didn't give a rat's ass if I didn't have a tooth brush or extra underwear.  I could not fathom the thought of standing.  No such luck.  I knew I was being released back into the wild when the nurse began to give me instructions on how to empty my drain.

Are you kidding me?  I cannot even spell my name and you are expecting me to retain this?
Furthermore,  it is now pushing 6 PM and I still have not ate anything.   Because  I was nauseous,  I was denied my ginger ale and soda crackers.  Recovery was beginning to feel like Alcatraz.

They finally released me to Kim by 6:30 and repeated all the instructions to her.   I am also supposed to report that Kim had practiced for her second guest appearance as a porter and did an excellent job!  She didn't hit any walls and narrow pant legs ensured she did not get tangled in the wheels.  And God love them! A McDonald's cheeseburger was waiting for me in the back seat.  I inhaled it before Shawn shifted the truck into "drive."

Kim knows me all too well and as my former room mate, knows my infinite love of showers.  I hooked up my hand held shower on Thursday evening, because sponge baths just don't cut it for me.  Even though I was drugged to the point that Kim had 3 - 4 eyes,  she knew there was no stopping me from washing the hospital scent from my body.  She just stood in the bathroom door way hoping not to hear the thud of my body hitting the bathtub.

My plan was to have a slumber party at Gailene's.  I am supposed to stay with someone for 24 hours, post surgery and last surgery, I was very alert. So I thought it would be a fun filled evening of jokes, conversation and laughter.  I arrived ready for bed, in my striped pyjamas,  toting a healthy salad for our dinner.  Screw the salad.  I now wanted a donair and a poutine!  I managed to stay awake until the delivery man arrived.  I was also certain that Gailene was speaking to me in a foreign language but since she told me that one of my eyes was pointing north and the other, Southeast; I guess I was still suffering from the sedation.   It was very nice of Gailene to offer me her bed but in my state,  she could have put me in a cardboard box on the back porch like a stray animal and I would not have cared.  The "stoner munchies" kicked in around 1 AM and I wolfed down cold poutine.  To be on the safe side, I took a Gravol.

Saturday morning,  I was back at my own place, relaxing.  My home care nurse said the bandages were clean and didn't need to be changed until Monday but warned that it will hurt like hell and would give me an hours notice "to take everything that I have. "  It wasn't as bad as anticipated and tickled more than anything else.

The drain consists of a small tube inserted in my armpit with a plastic pump at the other end which resembles a grenade.  I feel like Al-Queda with it strapped to my bra.

Taking a shower with my bandages and drain resembles a Cirque du Soliel audition and on Sunday,  I learned very quickly why I should not hit my arm.  I knocked my arm against the wall....Jayzus!!!  I won't be doing that again and now understand why I should not go to hear Jake E Lee play tomorrow night in a crowded bar.