i resolve: february in review

It's time to catch you all up on how I've been doing when it comes to my resolutions for 2008.

FAMILY

I have been doing really well in this category (which is, I suppose, why I am starting with it) and I am happy to say that I have done everything to which I committed at least once.

GETTING ORGANIZED

In January, I vowed to begin by cleaning out my food cupboards, fridge and freezers. As I write this, my fridge is full of sludge, the freezers are full of frost and unlabelled food items and my cupboards are so full that stuff falls on my head every time I open a cupboard door.

I have decided to delude myself remain optimistic for one more month, though. So, for March, I resolve to grab a big garbage bag (and some rubber gloves) and get the job done.

HEALTH

I had mixed results in terms of meeting my fitness goals.

I pledged to attend four yoga classes. I made it to two (I was in Florida one week and S. was sick the next). This month, I think I need to shake it up a bit and attend some classes at my local community centre. I will do this at least four times.

I had set myself the goal of walking an average of five one hour walks and one half-hour walk every week. I very nearly made it (S.'s illness and a wicked cold snap caused last week's walks to be abbreviated). In March, I resolve to meet this goal.

The other promise I made was to begin to do some work to build up core strength. I didn't do a single sit-up or abdominal crunch. This month, I'll do it, starting today (I'm attending a cardio-kickboxing class. I imagine this will involve some abdominal torture strengthening).

Update at 7:47 pm: I didn't make it to cardio-kickboxing but I did go for a long and vigorous walk. I think I forgot to keep the 'R' (for 'realistic') in S.M.A.R.T. I did do a few leg lifts and a few crunches, though.

You have to start somewhere.

As for my diet, I have been gradually, and successfully, making small changes. I eat very little sugar, add flax seed to my breakfast cereal and drink green tea almost every day. I have also increased my consumption of veggies and fish.

I have come to terms with the fact though, that now (especially that I will be going for chemo less frequently) is the time to take my commitment to good nutrition a little further and focus in earnest on losing some weight.

My weight has been steadily climbing over the last year and the trip to Florida served as a bit of a wakeup call (very few of my summer clothes fit, the reflection of my ass in the mirror made me wince and my trim and fit in-laws serve as an inspiration). The health risks associated with excessive weight are even higher for a cancer patient and maintaining a healthy weight is one of the best ways to manage lymphedema.

In order to lose weight, I need structure and Weight Watchers has worked very well for me in the past (I lost 48lbs after D. was born and kept most of it off until I started cancer treatment) For me, it's not enough to say "Beer is fattening" but instead, "Beer costs three points that I could spend on food!"

I signed up for the online program this morning (I already go to enough appointments). I figure that telling all my internet peeps (and anyone IRL* who will listen) that I am doing this should have the same effect, in terms of keeping me honest.

I have set several small goals for myself, the first of which is to lose 10 lbs (at a rate of no more than 1-2 lbs per week). I'll keep you posted.

I still owe you all posts on my resolutions (and progress) regarding writing and re-connecting with friends. I will be able to get to those this week, as tomorrow is a chemo day and I will take my laptop to bed with me.

*IRL=in real life.

jeff healey succumbs to cancer at 41

The world lost a major talent yesterday.

This is such sad news (and my heart goes out to his family).

But Jeff Healey lived more in 41 years than some people do in twice that time.

beautiful prose

"There continues to be no evidence of recurrent metastatic disease on images of the abdomen."

This means that I will continue to go for only one treatment a month, indefinitely.

As for the long run, who knows? As my oncologist said today, 16 years ago women with liver metastases were dead within a few months. Given that this is my third CT in remission (the first was in June and the next in November), he is, in his words, "amazingly optimistic."

We are travelling in uncharted waters, my oncologist and I (the drug combination I am on, herceptin and vinorelbine, is not even a recognized treatment yet in Ontario). Given the alternative, however, I am more than happy to keep paddling.

what i did on my winter vacation

I can't seem to string two sentences together today (believe me, I've been trying) so instead of a more substantive post, I will provide you with more photos of one of the world's most photogenic children.

These were taken in Sarasota, Florida, on the rare occasions when I remembered to bring my camera.

I need to figure out how to work the zoom on my little camera. Watching my little man paddle away in the kayak with Grandpa, really turned my insides to mush.

While Grandpa and Bubbie went for a little paddle (I went out, too, although I didn't do much paddling, just glided along while my father-in-law did all the work), D. and I played on the beach (just the over the hill from the bay where we went paddling):


D. asked me to lie down, so he could trace my shape in the sand. I was impressed that I had the agility to get up without blurring his work. I was less impressed with my shape in the sand which was distinctly, um, bottom heavy. The hour glass has been replaced with a pear, it seems.

D. especially loved the palm trees, which he insisted on calling "coco-palms" even though we explained that we were too far north for coconuts. He said the ones bearing fruit would be coconut trees and that these were called coco-palm trees.

The child has an uncanny ability to insist on his own version of reality, even when presented with irrefutable evidence to the contrary. If he decides that up is down (or that he was wide awake on the plane and the trip was just really, really short), it is often easier to just let it go then to try and convince him otherwise.

We also went to the circus, saw some alligators (I took pictures but the 'gators look like logs. See above re the zoom) and tasted alligator stew, saw many beautiful birds (although not as many as last year), went to the aquarium and spent lots of time on, in and near the water. Two of my nieces (both really nice people - one is almost 12 and the other will turn 10 this year) were there for part of the time and my father-in-law and his wife are both warm, funny, generous people.

I really lucked out with my spouse's family (so much so that they were a part of my 41 things about T.).

Speaking of my spouse, I think he was a little chagrined with the beautiful weather we had. It was one thing to say, "It's OK, honey, you go to Florida without me. I really need to stay and work," when he thought the weather would be cool and perhaps even rainy. However, it turned out to unseasonably hot and gorgeous every day.

He and my older son S. had a pretty good time, though. They rented a wii, played games with friends on the big screen in T.'s office, went skating on the canal and watched lots of movies. They probably sat around eating junk food in their underwear, too.

As for little D. and I, it was wonderful to be able to spend so much time together. He is growing up so quickly. I don't really have the words to explain how cool it is to watch him grow and learn, hear his observations on the world (absolutely nothing gets by him, even when you think he's not listening). He is one sharp kid.

One night when I was getting him ready for bed, he said, "Mama, I love you as much as all the days." He has said this before.

"I love you as much as all the lives of everyone in the world. That's forever."

And then came the kicker.

"I love you even when I'm mad at you."

happy and home

And exhausted.

We had such a wonderful time.

And it will only be winter for a few more weeks, right? Right?

to warmer climes

I took this picture of the front of my house yesterday morning. We have had another dump of snow since.

The shot below, of my 55lb dog sitting on my front walk, gives you an idea of the height of the snowbanks.

It's -21 Celsius (-6 Fahrenheit) today with the windchill. In other words, it's bloody cold.

I am off to Florida with my four year old tomorrow. We need to leave for the airport at 4:30am.

We are flying via Cleveland and it will take us forever to get there.

I don't care. It's going up to 24 Celsius (75 Fahrenheit) in Sarasota tomorrow. By this time tomorrow, I will hopefully have dipped my toes in the ocean.

And the only white powdery stuff around will be the sand on the beach.

I'll be back online on February 25th.

I also have a short post up at Mommybloggers.

bloodbath (not for the squeamish)

I had a CT scan yesterday.

Since my life as a cancer patient began, I have had many, many tests and medical appointments. And I have had my share of bizarre experiences.

But yesterday I experienced something new.

I was very pleased that the nurse managed to get the IV needle into a vein on the first try (I had been really dreading that part, after the trauma of last time), albeit in the side of my wrist, right by the bone.

I barely had time to register my relief, though, before I felt a warm liquid on my hand and looked over to see a jet of blood spurting from my wrist onto my hand and the floor.

"I dropped the locking clip!" exclaimed the nurse. "Could you grab me a new one, please?"

What followed was more spurting and a great deal of confused fumbling. The nurse kept thanking the co-worker who was ineptly trying to help (it was only later, when I was told that he was a doctor that I understood that the man probably didn't have the remotest idea what a locking clip was, where to find one or what to do with it when he did).

Eventually (it felt like a long time but was likely only a minute or two. A lot of blood can spurt out of a vein in a very short period of time), the locking clip (which is really a stopper-thingie) was popped on, the nurse cleaned me up and mopped up the floor, all the while apologizing profusely.

"Sorry for the blood-letting," she said.

The rest of the test proceeded pretty uneventfully.

I'll have the results on the 27th. I have no reason to expect anything but good news (the last two CT scans in June and November showed no sign of cancer at all) but I will hate the waiting, anyway.

The test was very early yesterday morning. My spouse was still home when I returned.

"You're a little pale," he said.

Go figure.

reading deprived

I am still doing the Artist's Way.

Last week, I was supposed to do something called "reading deprivation."

I felt that it was asking way too much of myself to forego reading during a chemo week.

This week, I am taking a crack at it. I am allowed to answer emails, read to my son and read the comments on my blog (and, of course, to re-read my own writing).

I've been on starvation diets that are easier than this.

And cheated less.

pavlov revisited

One morning, as I was making school lunches, I dropped a bunch of cheese on my dog's head (I had been slicing it onto sandwiches and had turned to talk to my older son. Multi-tasking before sufficient caffeine intake has never been my strong suit).

Now, whenever I am making lunches, the dog dances with excitement, his eyes sparkling with hope and joyful anticipation.

I want to live my life like that. Life is good. And you never know when cheese might fall from the sky.

two finished objects and a felted bag

I have several almost finished knitting projects kicking around the house. Yesterday, and the day before, I bit the bullet and finished two of them.

This is the "Heartbreakingly Cute Baby Kimono" from Mason-Dixon Knitting. For months all it needed was for me to sew the little cords on for the tie.

The lighting is not great in this shot but it really is heart-breakingly cute (how could a new-born sized kimono, not be?). This one's going to the Warm Hands Network.


These socks have been languishing for a few weeks, needing only one toe to be finished. The photo really does not do justice to the Fleece Artist yarn. The socks are REALLY thick but very comfortable. I just haven't been brave enough to check how comfortable they'll be with shoes on.

The bag below is from a free pattern from Black Sheep Bags. It's called a Booga Bag and I stumbled on it when I was yearning for a felted bag (seriously, I was. They're strong and light. And I think they're cool).

Since I first stumbled on the pattern, it's become a bit of a knitting craze. If you feel like it, go to Flickr and do a search for 'Booga' you get 2,563 results and the overwhelming majority are pictures of this bag.

This is what it looked like before I felted it:

And this is what it looks like, after being machine washed in hot water and rinsed in cold:

I had been warned that this is not a big bag, but the thing is tiny. It looks like I'll be able to fit my wallet, keys (if I can find them), a lipstick and maybe a tiny notebook and a pen.

Maybe I shouldn't have run the bag through the whole wash cycle. Thoughts?

I like how it looks, though and the way the colours blended together. And it will be a nice light purse.

I'll post more pics once I make the holes for the straps and add them on.

You have no idea how much clutter I had to move out of the way to take EACH of these pictures.

a woman undone

Cross-posted to Mommyblogers.com.

It was not my finest moment as a parent.

But before I tell you about it, allow me to relate the day that led up to screaming.

I try to protect the Mondays before chemo as days to get myself ready, emotionally and physically for the slog ahead. I go to yoga, go for a walk, try and do some writing, get the house cleaned up a little, do some cooking. Actually, I always tend to start the day with to-do list that is longer than the number of hours in the day.

But the best laid plans, as they say can easily go awry when you are dealing with a bunch of variables that are mostly outside your control (OK, so maybe they don't say that, exactly, but you know what I mean).

It all started when my oldest son, nine year old S., came downstairs clutching his stomach.

My spouse had been sick on the week end (during our night away from the kids, something I was none too pleased about, I can tell you) and I hadn't been feeling too well myself so I knew right away that he would need to stay home. I called the school and said I would have him home at least for the morning.

The morning turned into a full day, and while he's really very good at occupying himself (and the gravol and tylenol kept him really quiet), I did have to shelve plans for getting much done in the way of writing.

And yoga was out.

I did a pretty good job of telling myself "it is what it is." And then I called my spouse to advise him that I would be heading out for a dog walk after he was home in the evening.

In the afternoon, I had a dental appointment. I set myself back when I lost track of time while writing my blog post, updating my new year's resolutions (one of these was called 'get organized.' The irony is not lost on me).

When my spouse came home I was still in my pajamas, with only minutes to go until the bus was due to come by. I got ready and out the door in record time and raced down my driveway to see the bus (two minutes ahead of schedule, by my calculations) sitting at the stop just south of my house. I took off at a sprint for the next stop, a couple of blocks north of my house and made it by the skin of my teeth.

I boarded the bus and...no wallet.

The driver, impressed with my athleticism my complete lack of grace my dogged determination, took pity on me and told me that I could stay on the bus.

With great relief, I plopped myself down, still panting heavily.

Only to realize a few minutes later that with no wallet, I had no way of paying the dentist and no way to get home.

There was nothing I could do about it right then (I still have not got around to activating my new cell phone) so I took out my book. And became engrossed (it's Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird: Instructions on Writing and Life. Very good). When I looked up I was five stops past my dentist's office.

I hopped off the bus and broke into a quick waddle (running again was completely out of the question), stopping along the way to call my spouse from a pay phone and ask him to deliver my wallet.

I endured the dentist (a man who does not stop talking the entire time you are in the chair. It's excruciating. He is however, very gentle and genuinely concerned about causing his patients as little discomfort as possible. That makes up for a lot).

My spouse, sick son and I then proceeded to run a couple of errands and pick up my youngest from day care. At some point, my spouse informs me that he will need to go back to work to finish a proposal that is due the next day. When I grit my teeth and ask him how late he thinks he'll be, he replies, "I don't know" (now to be fair, to him, this is the first time that he has done this without advanced notice in the seventeen years of our relationship. And I should also admit that, when I was working I did that to him at least a couple of times. But this did nothing to mitigate the effect on my already frayed nerves).

By the time we arrived home, the kids were hungry, cranky and enormously demanding. And they were fighting continously with each other and bringing their complaints to me.

I rushed to change my socks (the slush had soaked through my shoes and I'd been running around cold wet feet), feed the yowling cat, make dinner (OK, so I was only up to heating up chicken fingers and throwing some salad greens on plates) while the crescendo of laments, yelling and tears built around me.

As I was on the phone, checking in with my spouse, I could hear my youngest in the next room, yelling, "S., stop looking at me that way! S., stop looking at me, like that!" After a couple of minutes of this, my four year old came running into the kitchen in tears, yelling that S. was looking at him and he didn't like it. S. followed on his heels, yelling over him, "I don't know what's wrong with him. I was just making faces!" And proceeded to demonstrate.

He had been scaring his little brother.

I lost it. I forget exactly what I said but it was along the lines, of, "I have had it!" (repeated several times) and "I have had enough of the fighting, complaining and the yelling. You are both behaving very badly."

Except that it was all screamed at a decibel level that makes me glad we live in an old detached house with very thick walls. The kind of screaming that I would have been embarrassed to have anyone witness, even those folks who know me very, very well.

The children were shocked into silence.

We ate dinner very quietly, plates were cleared without asking and my oldest even helped with his younger brother's homework (I forgot to mention that my four year old had reminded me that he had overdue homework that needed to be handed in the next day).

Together, we brainstormed ideas for how to decorate a paper snowman. The boys decided that we should make a snow-spider, with yarn for legs (D. told me where to put them but I had to glue them on. Heaven forfend he should have to get his fingers dirty) and buttons for eyes (our research revealed that spiders have either six or eight eyes. Ours had seven). D. added bright orange paint-spots.

When we were done, D. turned to me and asked, "Mama, are you still sad?"

I sighed and said, "No, I was just frustrated that you and your brother were doing bad listening and fighting so much."

"I'm sorry, Mama. Do you need a hug?"

We hugged, I put him to bed and then collapsed on the sofa.

My spouse came home at 10:30 and the poor dog didn't get his walk (and neither did I).

Some days don't go as planned.

But they do make good blog fodder.

a post called "Pluck"

As I was getting my daily fix of the Yarn Harlot yesterday, I came across this post by Lene, of "The Seated View." You should really go read the whole thing (she raises some very interesting questions about how we view people with disabilities). This paragraph in particular, though, really resonated with me:

"There is no overcoming of disability. Because a chronic condition doesn't improve, you cannot conquer it, you cannot defeat it. Arthritis doesn't go away. Neither does MS, ALS, spinal cord injuries, muscular dystrophy, many types of blindness and deafness. There is only living with it, coexisting - sometimes uneasily, sometimes not. Having a disability is part of what you are, what you do. Sometimes it's a small part and sometimes, it overwhelms the rest. But what remains is this: you live your life anyway."

I am not disabled but I do have a chronic illness (and it's ongoing side effects) that has forever changed my relationship to the world and permanently altered my body. I wear these physical changes quite publicly, as lymphedema makes a prosthesis unwearable. And I need to work constantly to mitigate the post-surgical stiffness and the uncomfortable side effects of lymphedema.
The cancer will never go away completely (although we are doing a pretty good job of beating it back) but life goes on. There are many, many days when I feel wonderful, optimistic and healthy. But on the days that I don't, I keep living anyway. Because really, what other choice do I have?

And really, do go read Lene's post. I found it incredibly thought provoking and beautifully written.

resolutions 2008: the month in review

Seeing as how we are now well into February, I thought I should give you an update on my BlogHer inspired resolutions for this year.

FAMILY

"I will go into my older son's classroom at least once a week."

I am heading up a knitting club in nine year old S.'s class. I was supposed to be working with seven kids but I have consistently had around fifteen in attendance. And it's so much fun! S. also loves having me there and is clearly proud of his mother. A side-benefit is seeing how much the kids are loving learning how to knit. Two weeks ago, I taught them how to finger knit. I left the classroom at 10:45. When I returned at 1:00 for a class play, many of the kids in the wings were finger-knitting as they waited to go on. One boy even had his costume cinched with a belt that his classmate had knit during lunch!

"On the weeks that I don't have chemo I will start sharing pick ups and drop offs for my younger son (to and from school/day care). I will begin with doing at least one pick up and one drop off each week that I am off in January."

I did only one pick up and one drop off. This is one area which clearly needs improvement, especially as the success of my knitting classes has young D. clamouring for me to come to his school, too.

"I will go out with my spouse, at least once a month."

Done and done (in spectacular fashion, I might add). In March, I think we'll go and play Scrabble in a pub one night.

"I will help plan at least one family activity every month."

We all went on a dog walk at least once January (remember, I am taking small steps). This is a good reminder to start planning an activity for February. I just asked my older son what we should do and he suggested skating! A great idea.

"I will have my sister and brother in-law over for morning coffee at least one week end morning a month."

We had a lovely date in January and they're going to come by this week end (they also took my kids overnight on Saturday so that my spouse could go celebrate his birthday). They are both lovely (and busy!) people and I really enjoy spending time with them.

"I will reinstate Sunday family dinners with my dear friend, DD."

We've done that twice and I am hoping that she will be free to come over this Sunday (she has had a very good reason to otherwise engaged, of late).

"I will call my niece to see if she wants to resume knitting lessons."

We have had one knitting date and I have made plans for another one.

HEALTH

I have been making small changes to my diet, and adding new ones every week. All in all, this has been working well. It seems so much easier to create new habits when changes are made gradually.

Some interesting observations:

I noticed about three weeks into the month that I feel much better. I have more energy and I just feel really well (aside from the stomach bug which has been plaguing me for the last couple of days, but even that is milder than it should be for someone with a suppressed immune system).

I have lost four pounds (a bonus, since I haven't really been trying).

When I go "off the wagon", as I did this week end (fatty, salty cheeses, no veggies and about a pound of nut brittle), I don't feel well. At the brunch at our hotel this week end, the rich desserts did not appeal to me at all. Truly odd.

This week, I am going to go easy on myself and just add a second fish meal and avoiding salty foods (salt really aggravates the lymphedema).

On the fitness front:

I committed to four yoga classes, made it to three. Not bad. I am now addicted (and trying to be all "live in the moment" about missing today, as my son is home sick from school).

I easily met my goal of walking an average of 60 minutes, five times a week. This month I will add an additional 30 minute walk per week to the mix.

In February I will do the ab exercises prescribed by my physiotherapist, five times per week.

GETTING ORGANIZED:

I cleaned my fridge. Once. It needs it again. I'll take another crack at organizing my kitchen in February.

As for writing/creating (which I will fold into a common set of resolutions) and re-connecting with friends, I didn't even get around to making those in January. I'll write about them later this week.

Thanks for helping to keep me honest.

Off to chemo tomorrow. I may not post until Wednesday.

"reprieve"

I saw the doctor who works with my oncologist on Wednesday. I had decided, as I showered that morning, that I would ask to skip another chemo appointment, to give myself a break in February. It turns out she was a step ahead of me.

She was ebullient when she saw me. Dr. B. is the doctor who examined me when I first went in with my abdomen looking like I had swallowed a large watermelon and when a cough or a poke caused me to be wracked with pain.

We've come a long way since that day, a little over a year ago. Dr. B. told me that she is "not worried about me." I loved hearing this. She reminded me again how very worried about me they had been and said that I have been given "a reprieve."

A very apt choice of words, I think, and reflective of the stark contrast in my prognosis in late 2006 versus how I am doing now.

And, while she was very clear that I am "not out of the woods for good," she, like Dr. G. my oncologist, is hopeful that I will continue to do well for a long time.

Dr. B. also said that my liver felt "amazing," all tucked up under my rib cage, where a liver is supposed to be.

So my doctors are ready for me to ease up a bit on chemo, at least for the next two cycles. This means that in February and March, instead of going for chemo two weeks in a row and then having two weeks off, I will go for treatment one week and then have THREE weeks off.

And then, if my CT scan is good (and my doctors have both said that they anticipate it will be), we will continue in this fashion for a while (the scan is set for February 13th. I'll get the results on February 27th).

I am giddy. The chemo and herceptin, drugs that have surely saved my life, have also been grinding me down. Now I have a chance to heal and get strong again, physically and emotionally (and perhaps even mentally. Maybe I'll even win a Scrabble game).

It's good to feel hopeful. I wrote in my journal this evening that I am starting to get greedy, imagining myself seeing my kids graduate from high school and perhaps even becoming a grandma some day.

But I try not to get ahead of myself, stay in the here and now (not my strong suit but I am working on it). And be grateful for the fact that right now, today, I am doing very well, indeed.

not to worry

This may be a quiet week.

All is well. I am just spending some time with family and visiting friends. Posting may be sporadic to non-existent until early next week.

If you like, please post a link to your favourite blog in the comments and let me know why it's your fave.

41 reasons I’m glad he’s mine

1. I have a weakness for big brown eyes.
2. He makes me laugh.
3. He laughs at my jokes.
4. The values we share.
5. He calls me on my ‘meshuggahs’ (a lovely Yiddish word that means something like ‘crazy stuff’).
6. He has taught me a whole bunch of nifty Yiddish words.
7. His family.
8. He’s the smartest person I know.
9. He loves me.
10. He can show affection (to his family, his friends and to me).
11. The cute face he makes when he’s feeling a little sheepish (and the same face I see reflected on my oldest son).
12. His unwavering support, throughout the worst and the best of my life as a cancer patient.
13. He’s an amazing father.
14. He still manages to surprise me, even after almost seventeen years together.
15. He chooses good friends.
16. He has kept his hair longer, even though it bugs him because I think it’s hot.
17. He is a sexy beast (and will be mortified that I wrote this).
18. He is beautiful. Inside and out.
19. He has shown me that being angry with me and loving me are not mutually exclusive.
20. We have fun together.
21. He knows me better than anyone (and loves me anyway).
22. He is a really good cook.
23. He tells me that I’m beautiful.
24. He thinks the most casual of clothes are the sexiest.
25. He puts up with the fact that I do not drive.
26. He is incredibly supportive of my writing.
27. He understands that ‘taking care of myself’ can mean yet another ball of wool or a pedicure, even if he doesn’t totally get it.
28. The way we can communicate with a glance and a raised eyebrow.
29. The way he can wax eloquent about hot sauce.
30. I feel like I’m still getting to know him.
31. His calves.
32. He is very kind.
33. He can apologize when he’s wrong.
34. He reads.
35. He lets me talk to him about knitting (and I talk about knitting a lot).
36. He doesn’t knit but he can talk knowledgeably about getting gauge and blocking.
37. He has his own interests and his own friends.
38. He encourages my separate interests and friendships.
39. I can recognize his walk from a distance (and my boys walk the same way).
40. He makes writing this list incredibly easy. I’m confident that I could go on for 100 more birthdays.
41. I love him more than I can say.

the days are getting longer

Have you noticed?

book review: the south beach diet

I've been doing a bit of research, as part of my plan to take control of my diet, feel healthier and STOP GAINING WEIGHT. Oh, and I'd like to fend off cancer, too.

The South Beach Diet was written by cardiologist, Arthur Agatson, "in order to reverse the myriad of heart and vascular problems that stem from obesity" (p.7). Web MD describes South Beach as "a heart-friendly version of the Atkins Diet."

The premise of the diet is that we feel better and lose weight when our insulin levels are regulated and that the way to do this is by consuming mostly foods with with a lower glycemic index (because I am lazy, I am going to let Wiki fill you in on the details).

The book promises that you will lose eight to thirteen pounds in the first two weeks of the diet (I think the idea is that a quick success will get you motivated), known as Phase 1. And the cover of the edition that I borrowed from the library offered the added bonus, "Lose Belly Fat First!"

Who wouldn't love a diet that offered quick results (although Dr. Agatson is very careful to say that weight loss does slow down in the second phase of the diet, when some previously forbidden foods are reintroduced) and that promised to trim fat from what for many of us (especially those of us who've had babies) is a source of considerable angst? And there is lots in this diet that does make sense.

I know that lean protein makes me feel more full and that, if I get too hungry and let my blood sugar drop, I become a little hysterical (my youngest son is very like me in this. If he gets too hungry, he becomes a little terror. The transformation once he is fed is truly remarkable). I also know that I feel much better when I avoid white sugar.

But I have to say that I am a little leery of a diet that prescribes bacon and eggs for breakfast most mornings and that frowns on whole grain bread (although Agatson does say that whole grains are much better than their refined counterparts).

And I know all to well what a bad idea it can be to try any diet that makes you feel deprived of foods you love.

What I am taking from this diet:

• A good reminder to follow my naturopathic doctor's advice and avoid refined sugar.
• Eat smaller meals and avoid getting too hungry.
• Have snacks with good, healthy proteins.
• Avoid refined carbohydrates (I seldom bother with a bun when I have a burger and I don't have bread with dinner, usually. Avoiding carb-centred snacks, especially when we can't have nuts in the house, is more of a challenge).
  

I am keen to learn more about the glycemic index and how it affects metabolism, so expect more from me on this subject in the future.

I would also love to hear from any of you have successfully (or unsuccessfully) followed the South Beach Diet. What was your experience like? Does the diet work as a long-term lifestyle? Did all the saturated fats send your cholesterol through the roof?

I have been surprised by how much interest my posts on diet have generated. It seems that some of you actually are not bored when I write about what I've been eating.

This week, I made another small change based on setting S.M.A.R.T. goals: I eliminated the bedtime snack and stopped eating two hours before bedtime (food eaten late at night doesn't get burned off and I feel better when I wake up hungry).

Next week, I will eat fish at least once.

making music, taking action

As I have written before, I am a big fan of singer-songwriter Eve Goldberg. Her voice is pure and clear and her songs always move me. Her most recent album, A Kinder Season, recorded in the months after her mother passed away from breast cancer, was the balm and inspiration that helped me get through the initial shock and pain of my own cancer diagnosis.

You can listen to audio clips from each of her albums on her web site. Go check her out (and buy her music. You won't regret it).

Very recently, though, Eve has released a new song, one with a very important message. The following is from her website:

This month marks the launch of my new song "The Streets of Burma." I wrote this song after watching the TV news last fall and seeing the powerful images of monks and nuns in Burma peacefully taking to the streets to protest against the military dictatorship. Their protests were brutally suppressed. Watching these events unfold from half a world away, I was outraged, and concerned for the people of Burma. The TV news has moved on to other, more "exciting" events, but what has happened to the monks and nuns? What has happened to the ordinary citizens in Burma who long for peace and democracy? That's where my song "The Streets of Burma" was born.

And I'm proud to announce that Amnesty International has decided to use the song as part of its campaign to help free U Gambira, one of the monks arrested following the protests. You can listen to and download the song by clicking on the link above left, and you can find out more about the campaign at www.amnesty.ca/streetsofburma/

Please support Amnesty International's important work in this area.

The song is lovely and haunting. You can download at the Amnesty site or on Eve's own website (where you can also make make a donation to the Amnesty campaign).

they like me!

The following email was waiting in my inbox when I got back from yoga this afternoon:

"Dear Not Just About Cancer Blog Author,

Our editors recently reviewed your blog and have given it a 9.5 score out of (10). Your blog is currently ranked in the top 3 in the Conditions and Diseases category of Blogged.com. This is quite an achievement!

http://www.blogged.com/directory/health/conditions-and-diseases

We evaluated your blog based on the following criteria: Frequency of Updates, Relevance of Content, Site Design, and Writing Style. After carefully reviewing each of these criteria, your site was given its 9.5 score.

Please accept my congratulations on a blog well-done!"

How cool am I? OK, so I don't think I've ever heard of Blogged.com (although I will pay attention to them, now!) and I don't remember submitting my blog to them (although I may well have). And the "Conditions and Diseases" category cracks me up (although I'm pleased to say that you can find me near the top of their Health section, not just in the "Diseases").

But still. Some people who read lots of blogs reviewed mine and thought it deserved 9.5 out of 10.

I'll accept the compliment, happily.

And that part of me that remains in Mme. Delorme's Grade Four class (Madame Delorme was really tough. And I worshipped her)? That part of me's wondering what happened to the other 0.5.

my champions

I've been working my way through week one of The Artist's Way and thoroughly enjoying myself.

I thought it would be difficult to write three pages of longhand every day but, for the last couple of days, my words have spilled over beyond that third page.

Today I wrote four pages.

It's all stream of consciousness and some much most of it is just words I put down to keep going ("I'm thirsty" "Coffee tastes good" "The dog is getting a little smelly"). Every day, though, there are at least a couple of flashes of insight and I always feel energized when I'm done. It's not great writing but we aren't even supposed to re-read for at least the first six weeks of this twelve week programme.

I have never done anything like this before (and followed, through, anyway).

It's making me happy.

One of the tasks for this week was to make a list of people who have championed my writing throughout my life.

This is my list (in no particular order):

• Each of the teachers (and there were several) who not only praised my writing but pushed me to do more. They went out of their way to give me creative writing assignments that would challenge me and give me the chance to grow as a writer. In particular, Mr. D., my high school drama teacher, was very special. He not only got me to write but encouraged me to apply to to Pearson College and coached me through the whole application and interview process.

• My father, who was one of my very harshest critics but who taught me to value intelligence, reading and the beauty of language.

• My spouse, who is almost always the first person to read this blog before it goes 'live.' His support has been unwavering. He knows me better than anyone and I value his feedback more than I can say.

• My sister, herself an enormously talented writer, who has been one of my most vocal supporters since we were kids. I wrote for her when I was a child and I often still find myself writing with her in mind. Her absolute belief in me has kept me writing when I wanted to stop and helped to push me past my own doubts. Conversations with her continue to be the springboard for much of what I write. Of the two of us, she is the more lyrical writer, a poet who uses language in a way that inspires me.

• And you, the readers of this blog. I started Not Just About Cancer as a place to process my experience with breast cancer and share some it with my friends and family. It has grown into so much more. Whether I know you IRL ('in real life'!) or not, I am so honoured by the fact that you keep coming reading (and that you take the time to provide feedback, through the comments, in person or via email).

Re-reading this, I am reminded why I consider myself to be a lucky person, despite having metastatic breast cancer.

It's good to count one's blessings every once in a while.

buckets of sh*t

Don't you just love scathing movie reviews?

Jeanne, the Assertive Cancer Patient turned me on to a terrific review of the Bucket List by Roger Ebert, who as a veteran movie critic and recent cancer survivor is doubly qualified to review this awful-sounding movie.

And Ebert does not mince words, in panning this flick:

'"The Bucket List" is a movie about two old codgers who are nothing like people, both suffering from cancer that is nothing like cancer, and setting off on adventures that are nothing like possible. I urgently advise hospitals: Do not make the DVD available to your patients; there may be an outbreak of bedpans thrown at TV screens.'

As Jeanne says in her post about the movie review, "Don't see this film but do read Ebert's review."

A second review, of Katherine Heigl's new vehicle, 27 Dresses, also landed in my inbox yesterday. By Ottawa Xpress reviewer Isa Tousignant, it was called, "Dressed Down" and subtitled, "Katherine Heigl loses her charm in chick-flick shit-brick 27 Dresses."

Try saying that ten times, quickly.

Tousignant condemns the movie for it's "complete and utter lack of chemistry between [Heigl] and James Marsden" as well as the "ineptitude of its premise."

The critic concludes by summing up the movie as follows:

'...107 long minutes of insulting, sexist, predictable, morally offensive schlock that made me want to jump off this planet for shame of sharing it with anyone who may find this cute.'

I don't think she liked it very much.

click, please!

So...see that ad on the right side of this page? Every time someone clicks on it, I get a little bit of money (just about $100 dollars since September, so not a lot, but every little bit helps). It's all going into a new bank account in the hopes that I will be able to go to the BlogHer conference this year and then onto the conference for cancer bloggers that Jeanne is organizing (or perhaps I will only go to one event or maybe I'll just pay the mortgage).

So take a second and click on through. You don't even have to buy anything (but don't tell anyone I said that, OK?)

i resolve part 3: get organized

I had chemo and herceptin yesterday, along with a serious dose of Demerol to keep weird reactions at bay (apparently, I am "special". There are a handful of other women who get the herceptin over 90 minutes or an hour, instead of 30 minutes but I am the only one who gets a regular dose of a heavy duty narcotic to go along with it). I did do some pretty weird twitching, though, so I doubt we will be eliminating the Demerol any time soon.

The third part of my S.M.A.R.T resolutions involves getting my life organized, a subject that tends to make me want to dive for the covers. We have more clutter in our house than anyone I know. Than anyone I have ever visited. There are piles everywhere and one room we can't even go into because there is so much junk. And all too often, we end up buying things (does anyone have any idea what happened to the electric pencil sharpener?) to replace things that have gone missing, only to find them a week later (um...why are there pencil shavings in the bottom of the laundry basket?).

I've had enough (and no, this is not the first time I've said this).

But I have decided, in order to actually get anything done, I need to keep my goals modest. I also need to get a sense of accomplishment, the chance to throw some stuff out and the feeling that we can maintain the order I manage to create (she begins to laugh hysterically at the mere thought of this).

So. My goal for January? Clean out the fridge, freezers and cupboards. I have already done the fridge (Sort of. We still have many, many condiments of uncertain vintage that I was not permitted to throw out). I have fifteen days left and some of those will be slowed down by chemo, which means that next week, I've really got to roll up my sleeves.

I'll let you know how it goes.

change is a-foot

I am reading the Artist's Way by Julia Cameron.

I actually signed a little contract to myself (as suggested) by the author, to do the exercises in the book, make an 'artist's date' every week (which could mean just sitting with my knitting) and to write every day.

I am very excited.

And a little scared.

I promise to elaborate more on this in the future, but I'm not ready yet.

i resolve part 2: health

On Healthy Eating:

"Example A: Eating Healthy

"Okay, so...I'm supposed to be lowering my salt and eating only lean proteins, got it. And saturated fat is the enemy. And so is dairy. And so are carbs. And what was that about wheat? Oh, not wheat, just gluten? So no gluten, carbs, dairy, fat or salt. And organic? Organic is better for me? So I should order only free-range, organic, non-gluten, non-salt, non-dairy, fat-free items? But then...huh? How is it possible that fruit can be bad for me, I thought... What? Glycemic index? No, I don't know -- HEY, CAN I HAVE THIS GRAPE OR NOT?"

And then, frustrated and fed up, I order a cheeseburger."

This quote from Kristy Sammis in her piece, "Announcing the BlogHer 2008 Good Health-a-Thon"made me laugh out loud, it so closely mirrored my own conundrums (conundra?) when it comes to healthy food choices as a cancer patient with lymphedema (and one whose weight has been creeping up in a most unhealthy way since being diagnosed).

My plan (one I had shared with anyone who would listen) was to "radically overhaul" my diet in the New Year.

But I had no idea, really, what I wanted that to mean or how I was going to go about it.

Then, along came Kristy's post and a huge 'aha' moment, in terms of understanding what I needed to do.

I am having fun researching diets and nutritional theories (I'm currently reading the South Beach Diet, and I'll eventually write a review) but I have decided to be S.M.A.R.T. (specific, measurable, attainable, realistic and timely) and make gradual changes, based on my naturopath's recommendations and guidelines to control lymphedema.

So, for the first couple of weeks of January, I resolved that every day, I would:

• Drink one cup of green tea.
• Add a total of two tablespoons of flax meal to my food (this is usually sprinkled on yogurt or cereal).
• Take all my vitamins at the prescribed times (I am pleased to say that I have done this successfully for the first time since I started to take them).
• Eat one servings of fruit and seven servings of vegetables every day (this is by far the toughest challenge for me. I have managed to do it every day this week, though, and it's getting easier. And it's forcing me to cook more, which is a really good thing).

Next week's goal is to eliminate white sugar from my diet (another tough challenge, but doable), in favour of small amounts of sucanat (cane sugar), stevia, maple syrup and honey.

I will also add a second cup of green tea every day. This does mean (gasp!) that I will have to cut back on coffee even more, so I don't overload on caffeine.

On Exercise:

I'd love to start a weight program, do the workout my physio prescribed every day and do hundreds of crunches (OK, so maybe I wouldn't love the crunches).

But I would also love to sit around in my pajamas and surf the internet all day.

I've set a goal for January that will challenge me but not be so overwhelming that I opt for the pajamas.

• I will walk an average of 60 minutes 5 times per week (doing less on treatment weeks and more on my weeks off). I have been doing pretty close to this for a long time, so this goal should be pretty doable.

• I will go to yoga 4 times this month. The session started last Monday and I went, so I am on track to meet this goal.

I'll keep you all posted, my internet peeps, so that you can help keep me honest.

And do tell me what, if any, health and fitness resolutions you have made for 2008.

reports of my (imminent) death are greatly exaggerated

I have this book with a flowchart in it. It shows how cancer cells mutate and grow. It has lots of little arrows pointing to the possibilities.

Cancerous cells can be treated and eradicated or turn into a cancerous tumour.

A tumour can be zapped with chemo and disappear or it can metastasize.

Once cancer is beaten, a person may be "recovered" or they may have a "recurrence."

But there is only one arrow leading from "metastases" and it points towards "death."

This flow chart really upset me when I saw it (it's in a freakin' cookbook).

And it pissed me off.

Then I went to the National Conference for Young Women Living with Breast Cancer. There were only a handful of us there with metastastic breast cancer (six or seven out of a few hundred, I'd say). But one was a conference organizer. And we all looked pretty damn good for people who are supposed to be dying.

More of us are getting breast cancer. And we're getting it at younger ages. But we are also living longer.

And living well.

My oncologist and I talked about this, yesterday. As I have said before, I've had "spectacular" results with my current treatment regimen. Figuring out next steps, though, is a bit of a guessing game (the following is from breastcancer.org):

Many women can live for years with metastatic cancer that's under control. For these women, living with a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer is like living with a chronic disease. It can go into remission, be active sometimes and not others, or move quickly. It frequently involves trying one treatment after another, ideally with breaks in between treatments when you feel good. The goal of treatment is to help you feel as well as possible and live a longer life.

No one can tell you how long you will live with metastatic disease. That's because every woman's experience is different. Some women live for more than a decade. Others live for just a few seasons. But new and more effective treatments keep being developed. This means that you may do much better today with metastatic disease than someone who had it only a few years ago.

In this phase of breast cancer, the treatment goal is to extend life as long as possible with the best QUALITY of life possible. This means relieving symptoms and putting cancer into remission with the fewest side effects.

I have already gone from a three week cycle (with one week off from treatment) to a four week cycle (with two weeks off from treatment). Now, my doctor and I are discussing moving to a cycle where I would receive only one treatment (herceptin and vinorelbine) every four weeks.

I have a lot of faith in my oncologist, who says that many women have had success on this kind of cycle but that we have no way of knowing exactly the right amount of chemo to keep my (very aggressive) cancer at bay. We also don't really know the truly long term effects of herceptin (which can potentially be damaging to the heart) because the drug is just too new.

The side effects of the drugs I'm on are relatively mild but I am feeling emotionally and physically ground down by ongoing treatment. Chemotherapy attacks the healthy cells as well as the cancerous ones and my body and soul have been paying the price. My heart leapt at the suggestion that I might get more of a break in the near future.

So there are no easy answers. But the questions I am having to ask are a whole lot more pleasant than ones I thought I might be facing a year ago. And I'm a damned-sight better off than I would have been had all this happened to me even five years ago.

And I do know this: metastasis may lead to death (we are all after all going to face death at some point) but until then I plan to live fully and well.

sorted

No chemo this week.

Vinorelbine and Herceptin next week.

And then back to my regular schedule.

We talked for a while about how the importance (and uncertainty) of finding the balance between keeping the cancer at bay (and staying in remission) and giving me the highest quality of life possible. And because we are, in many ways, covering new ground (and cancer treatment is so individual, as is cancer for that matter), there is a bit of guesswork involved in figuring out where that balance lies.

I'll write more tomorrow, when the house is quiet and I'm less tired.

I'll relax completely once I have next week's chemo booked but I am feeling relieved. And I am enjoying the surprise week off from treatment.

And depending on the results of my next CT (set for February 13th), I can look forward to more breaks in the coming months.

get angry, take action and then take some deep breaths

More balls were dropped.

My file sat on someone's desk for days.

Everyone's busy blaming each other.

No chemo tomorrow.

Doctor on Wednesday morning.

Chemo scheduled for Thursday.

I have no intention of going to chemo on Thursday.

This is what I am planning to propose to my doctor: Cancel chemo for this week and pick up again next Tuesday. This will put me back on my current schedule (I would miss a week of vinorelbine) and mean that I won't have to re-arrange all my plans for the next several months because someone screwed up.

Yes, I am pissed.

And I have communicated really clearly how I want things to go.

But I don't see the point in yelling at anyone, especially as I need to keep these people on my side in the future.

The way I see it, they owe me one.

And I think they see it that way, too.

So.

I am trying to let go of the stress of not knowing what my doctor will say, taking deep breaths and getting on with my life.

To that end, I went to yoga today.

My mind wandered a fair bit but I was physically there.

Breathing deep, deep breaths and doing what I need to take care of myself.

pissed off

I am a patient who has fallen through the cracks.

According to my ongoing chemo cycle, I am due for treatment on January 8th and then again on January 15th. Usually, I am notified when I go for chemo when the next treatments will be, or I receive a letter in the mail advising me of my treatment schedule and any upcoming doctors' appointments.

On the few occasions when I have not received a notice, I have called the women who do the booking and sorted out the schedule with them. Since I had not heard anything by January 2nd (the day the cancer centre re-opened after the holidays), I called first thing to find out when my chemo was and to book an appointment for bloodwork, which I need to have drawn by a nurse, through my Port, within 48 hours prior to treatment (I usually do it on the same day as chemo, a couple of hours before treatment is due to start).

This time, though, I was informed that chemo had not been booked for me and that no "order papers" had been received. I was told to phone the nurse assigned to my oncologist. I did this immediately.

A couple of hours later, I got a call from an extremely stressed out nurse (you know when people are too panicked to really communicate properly or to even listen to the person on the other end of the phone?). She told me that no appointment had been booked for me and that none could be booked until I saw the doctor (this despite the fact that, as I explained, I have had many treatments without seeing the doctor. He and I both agree that I don't need to come in before each treatment, "just to say, 'hi'.") She also said that my oncologist was off that day. She told me they would sort something out and get back to me.

That was Wednesday morning. When I had not heard back this morning, I called again and left a message. My call was not returned.

The earliest that I will hear from the cancer centre will be Monday. I am starting to doubt that I can see the doctor and get bloodwork done in time to be treated next Tuesday, as ought to have been scheduled. And it's certainly going to be a challenge to find someone to come with me at the last minute (the pleasure of company becomes a critical need when I am pumped full of Demerol and too wobbly to get myself home).

And I am trying not to dwell on the fact that the woman who does the booking told me that they are 'fully booked' on the 8th. It may not even be possible to get an appointment for chemo, let alone bloodwork.

I have plans, dammit. And the plans are made based on a schedule that has been pretty consistent for the last few months. I have plans for Monday (what should be the day before treatment) and for Saturday (which is the day I always turn the corner after treatment). And I have plans for what should be my weeks off over the next several months

I hate feeling like I have no control over my life.

And I have decided that I will not give up these activities because someone else screwed up.

And why have I fallen through the cracks? Because the last time I saw my oncologist, it was at a different campus, twenty minutes away from where I usually get treated. The same hospital, the same computer system just a different physical location. Somehow this change in routine was enough to make the cancer centre lose track of me as a patient. And I did it to accommodate the fact that my appointment at my usual location had to be cancelled.

I cannot help but wonder what happens to patients who don't ask questions, don't advocate for themselves and just patiently wait to be told what to do.

i resolve: family

As I wrote yesterday, I am developing New Year's resolutions this year (somewhat belatedly, I admit but there hasn't been a whole lot of time to think, lately). We could really call them 'goals for 2008' but, as clichéd as it sounds, I really like the commitment implied by the word 'resolution.'

And we won't even be going into mycompulsive list making tendencies love of making lists.

This life of mine could certainly use some structure and planning (other than the structure provided by the chemotherapy cycle). And having goals that don't involve being a cancer patient feels pretty good, too.

Lisa Stone, one of the founders of BlogHer wrote the following about New Year's resolutions:

As I type, I'm about to embark on my annual dive into New Year's resolutions. Every December since 2001, I've taken time to sit down with a ruler, a pencil and a sheet of paper, to create what one of my sisters and I call The Matrix. Across the top of the page I write the months of the year. Down the left-hand side I draw up the bucketfuls of life I want to live in the coming year. These buckets may change in order, but they're nearly always the same.

I have embraced this idea and modified her 'buckets' to create my own categories:

Family.

Health.

Friends.

Get organized (my house and my finances).

Create.

Write.

Let's start with family shall we?

Bearing in mind that all my resolutions need to be S.M.A.R.T. (specific, measurable, attainable, realistic and timely). This is what I resolve for 2008.

• I will go into my older son's classroom at least once a week. This will begin on January 14, when I will start weekly knitting classes for the interested kids in his class (see, it's pretty S.M.A.R.T., right?)

• On the weeks that I don't have chemo I will start sharing pick ups and drop offs for my younger son (to and from school/day care). I will begin with doing at least one pick up and one drop off each week that I am off in January (I know that I am not being terribly specific but this is a bit weather dependent, as I do not drive).

• I will go out with my spouse, at least once a month, starting tonight (OK, so this was already planned but I resolve to plan our date night at the beginning of every month).

• I will help plan at least one family activity every month (because my kids have such disparate interests, we often split up during leisure time. I resolve to make more of an effort to spend time as a foursome.

• I will have my sister and brother in-law over for morning coffee at least one week end morning a month. I will make a plan with my sister when I see her this afternoon.

• I will reinstate Sunday family dinners with my dear friend, DD, beginning January 6th, if she is available.

• I will spend more time with (oops, not specific enough) call my niece, on Saturday and see if she wants to resume knitting lessons.
  

still recovering and not yet fully resolved

I am done.

The holidays were great this year but hectic. And having kids five years apart, with very different personalities and interests presents its own particular challenges.

And I am still recovering from New Year's Eve (but boy did I have fun).

I think I need to come to terms with the fact that longer, more thoughtful posts might be out of the question until my boys are both back in school on January 7th.

Perhaps I'll blog tomorrow about New Year's resolutions (yes, I am making some this year. I haven't in many years but since a) I am permitting myself to think ahead a bit further than a few months at a time and b) this unexpected life I'm living could benefit from some goals and structure). Mine all have to do with taking better care of myself and getting some stuff done.

Kristy, over at BlogHer thinks I need to be more specific. She's right.

Last year my spouse resolved to 'buy better tomatoes and keep all the pencils in the house sharpened." We are definitely eating better tomatoes, having gone organic and local but (and this is despite the acquisition of an electric pencil sharpener) we still have a lot of dull pencils lying around.

I think I need to be more ambitious.

What about you? What have you resolved to do in 2008?