the waiting game

I am waiting for results from yesterday's CT scan. My oncologist said that I should call him for results after five days, so I am going to start calling on Friday (it's only four days post-test but what have I got to lose by calling?).

I did have bloodwork done yesterday and was very relieved to see that all my liver functions are well within the range of normal. I actually startled the nurse who was hooking me up for chemo by giving a little yelp of pleasure.

It is still possible to have tumours on the liver (or nearby) and have normal liver functions. However, abnormally high liver functions can be a sign of a problem.

And I will embrace every indication that all is well.

I have a new post up (I wrote it on Monday) at MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com. It's about how hard it is to play the waiting game:

"I have no real reason to expect anything but good results this time, yet I can’t escape the feeling that something is wrong. My digestion feels a little off and I can’t decide if the pain in my side is a phantom one.

The truth is, I am scared. I am trying to reassure myself with the fact that I have been feeling pretty good, that I have been biking and running But I was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was feeling the healthiest and most fit that I had in years. And I was diagnosed with liver mets three weeks after I returned to work, at a time when I was feeling strong, energetic and (so I thought) on the road to reclaiming my life from cancer.

I have been fairly racked with anxiety these last few days and yet today I feel calmer. Perhaps I have had the time to come to terms with the fact that I have no choice but to meet whatever challenge lies ahead. Perhaps it has helped to keep myself really busy. Or maybe I am in denial."

I also wrote in the same post about how I how I cope with the anxiety. I was a little crazy on the week end but there are definitely things that help, when I can remind myself to do them:

"My advice to women awaiting test results or doctor’s appointments remains the same.

Try not to torture yourself with worst case scenarios.

Go out and play (I went to the National Art Gallery with my family yesterday).

Get together with friends (I had a great time at last night’s book club meeting).

Get some exercise (I am going running with my son after school today).

Write it all down (I procrastinated over doing this but I can’t tell you how much it helped."

Cross-posted to Mothers With Cancer.

delusions of grandeur

I have a new post up at MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com.

It's called, "If I Were Queen of the World."

have you ever? (a stolen meme)

I stole this meme from Average Jane. It's originally from Sunday Stealing.

It felt like the perfect distraction for a lazy, rainy Sunday morning.

Have you ever....

1. gone on a blind date?

Once. More than twenty years ago. His entire family came along (including grandparents) and he didn't make eye contact with me once. Very strange experience.

2. skipped school?

There are two answers to this question.

For my mom and my kids: "Never."

For everyone else: Fairly regularly, in high school.

3. watched someone die?

No

4. been on a plane?

Many times.

5. been on the opposite side of your country?

I have been to west and east coasts (born in New Brunswick!) and to two of the three northern territories.

6. swam in the ocean?

Yup.

7. had your booze taken away by the cops?

I have never been caught.

8. lettered in high school sport?

Do we letter in sports in Canada? No sports teams for me, anyway. I did theatre and band...

9. cried yourself to sleep?

Yes. But not lately.

10. played cops and robbers?

My friend B., my sister and I used to pretend we were Charlie's Angels. Were they cops?

11. sung karaoke?

Once. Under duress.

12. paid for a meal with coins only?

Of course.

13. done something you told yourself you wouldn’t?

Almost every day.

14. cheated on an exam?

Never.

15. made prank phone calls?

"Is your refrigerator running?"

16. laughed until some sort of beverage came out of your nose?

Yes.

17. caught a snowflake on your tongue?

I live in Ottawa, in Canada! What do you think?

18. written a letter to Santa Claus?

I think I did.

19. watched the sunrise with someone you care about?

I've been up all night...can't remember watching the sun come up.

20. been kissed under the mistletoe?

My parents had the plastic kind.

21. ever been arrested?

Yes. Occupying my MPs office, as part of a demonstration against the first Gulf War.

22. gone ice skating?

See above re Canada.

23. been skinny dipping outdoors?

Lots of times as a kid. As an adult, in the dark only. One time, a couple of years ago, my spouse and I were about to dive into the lake at his dad's cottage when a little boat we hadn't noticed flashed a bright light on us (most likely one of the neighbours out fishing). I hid behind T. The light went off and the boat went away.

24. had a nickname?

Not really. A grade school friend tried to nick name me "Wombat" but it never really stuck.

25. been on TV?

I have acted as a spokesperson for several advocacy organizations. It used to be my job.

circular

Am I freaked out because I can feel a stitch or am I feeling a stitch because I am freaked out anxious about my CT next week and what it might reveal?

Inside my head is not a fun place to be, today.

These are the facts:

• Scarring causes tightness which can make me feel a bit of a stitch.

• I have been exercising hard and felt nothing.

• But as I type this, I feel a dull ache.

• I cannot tell if my liver is swollen because I a have too much belly fat (and lymphedema) and an inadequate sense of my own anatomy.

• If I press really hard, the area where I think my liver is, hurts. But if you press hard enough on any part of the body, it hurts.

CT scan and blood tests on September 16, right before chemo. I will have the blood tests back on the same day but must wait a few days for the CT results.

Until then, deep breaths, lots of positive distractions and more exercise (if the rain ever lets up).

more randomness

1. I forgot to mention that my new-found commitment to riding my bike (spent a couple of hours on it again, today, although some of that was getting lost) was inspired in part by Rebecca. She trained on her bike (and kick-boxed!) right through breast cancer treatment.

2. It was also inspired by the fact that I dropped a whack of money (in violation of our current austerity measures) on a fancy lap-top bag that attaches to my bike rack. I have to ride instead of taking the bus or a taxi, in order to justify it. The first time I used the bag, it flew off while I was riding on a busy street (now lap top in it, thank goodness). I have since figured out how to secure it properly (don't you love instructions that read like they have been put through a universal translator?). I spent almost two hours on my bike today. Some of that was getting lost. I have absolutely no sense of direction. I had to pull out my bike map many, many times and I still took a few wrong turns.

3. I had a routine echocardiogram today. The woman who did the test explained what we saw on the screen in response to my questions (she compared the mitral valve to a fish). We also chatted about a bunch of stuff. I have never felt so relaxed while being tested or had an echo go by so quickly. She also told me that all is well. This experience was in such stark contrast to others I have had that I found her before I left to thank her for treating me "like a person." I told her that it meant a lot.

4. My father in law pointed out to me the other day that the Amazon.ca link to my book had it classified under "astrology." That has been fixed.

5. Yesterday, I had to chase the puppy around to cut out something that was matted in her fur (don't ask). My 10 year old stopped me, patiently turned the scissors around and said, firmly but calmly, "Could you please hold the scissors properly, if you are going to run with them?" I know that sometimes children and their parents reverse roles. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon.

6. As I was riding to the hospital today, a car pulled up beside me at an intersection. The car's window was open and the guy inside was snapping his fingers and bopping along with a big smile on his face (it was "Dancing Cheek to Cheek." I think it was Ella singing but I'm not sure). He must have felt my glance , because he turned to me and asked, "Are we going to have a good day?"

"I am now," I replied, with a big smile on my face.

a random kind of day

I'm sitting on the couch with a coffee as both dogs snore beside me. I seem unable to focus on any one thing today so it seems like a good time for another "random" post.

1. I pressed send on the latest round of changes to my book on Monday afternoon. That felt pretty good, I can tell you. And I have only had to send three different versions of the acknowledgments as I keep finding mistakes.

2. When I went to pull together the photos that I want to include in the book, I discovered that they are gone. Apparently, when we backed up "My Documents" to a hard drive before re-formatting my computer, it copied everything but the "My Pictures" folder. Many are on Flickr and the blog but the resolution is not so good. And, what's more, there were hundreds of photos that I have never posted anywhere. I am heartbroken.

3. I forgot to tell you about this post, called 'The Empowered Cancer Patient' that I wrote for MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com. I need to start remembering to link back to this blog in those posts.

4. I rode my bike to an appointment yesterday (30 minutes) and home again. This involved what felt like an enormous hill (up Carling, just before the Civic Hospital, if know Ottawa). And aside from my bag flying off the carrier twice (I have since figured out a better way to secure it), I did pretty well. I feel pretty proud of myself. And my ass is only a little sore today.

5. On the ride home, the skies opened up and it started to pour. One of those weird rains with really big, cold drops and the sun still out. As I cut through a park, pedalling furiously, I passed a young guy, dressed all in black (including his hat) who had stopped his bike just off the path to enjoy a smoke. He seemed oblivious to the torrential rain. Some day, I am going to incorporate him as a character into a short story, I think.

6. My poor little puppy has a cold. Her nose is runny and she is sneezing a lot. Otherwise, she seems more or less unaffected. The vet has put her on a course of antibiotics, in case this viral infection puts her at risk of something bacterial (given her developing immune system).

It doesn't seem to have affected her energy level. She still sleeps all morning and then revs up later in the day. She likes to pick things up and carry them around the house, especially stuffed animals and shoes.

She hasn't destroyed anything (both the late lovely Emma and J-Dog chewed their way through many a shoe and other items when they were puppies. J-Dog ate a camera) but she likes to take the shoes and boots out of the closet (no, I didn't put them away in the spring) and leaving them strewn around the house. As I type this, my slipper is sitting in the middle of the living room. I have no idea where to find its mate.

I have also really fallen down on the grooming and she's looking pretty scruffy. Although not as ratty as these photos, taken at my in-law's cottage last month, would suggest.




This is Stella, Lucy's litter-mate. Don't let her diminutive size fool you. She is the alpha in this equation.


The puppies' breeder captioned this one, "Whatcha wanna do now?"

Note how my pup appears to be a hulking monster beside her sister.

I will try and take a pic of her looking her best, if I ever get around to bathing and brushing.

7. Have you noticed that my photos have been a little washed out of late? I am not sure if it has been handled too roughly or dropped too many times but I find that my pics all look like they were taken in the 1960's. Any thoughts on how to fix this?

8. I have been seeing a 'Life Coach' since January and the process has been transformative. I had a great meeting with her yesterday. And she suggested that I give myself some time before jumping into the next project. I need to create a little space to breathe for a while.

We agreed that this is not so easy. I do have kids, dogs, an elderly cat and a sink full of dirty dishes. She challenged me to do what I need to do but do one thing at a time and do it well. I also need to spend time less time in "avoidance" activities ( You know what I mean - when you stay in bed with the covers over your head when you're really not sleepy or when you engage in junk internet surfing, googling obscure terms or reading celebrity gossip blogs. Or maybe that's just me) and make the time to do the things that fill me up and inspire creativity.

I need to report back to her in two weeks about how I've managed to achieve this.

I'll let you know how I do, as well.

philly bound!

Thanks to all of you who contributed your thoughts as to whether I should attend Living Beyond Breast Cancer's annual conference in Philadelphia. Every comment and opinion was helpful. You gave me much to think about.

Yesterday, though, I had the following conversation with my ten year old son.

Me: So...I have been offered a scholarship to attend a breast cancer conference in Philadelphia.

S. (lighting up): That's great!

Me: But the thing is, it's on November 1st, which means I would have to leave on October 31st and miss Hallowe'en.

S.: But this is a great opportunity! We can take lots of pictures. And there will be many other Hallowe'ens.

Me: OK. If you're sure...

S.: You should go!

Me: Wow. It's almost like you're proud of your mom...

S.: What do you mean 'almost'? I am proud.

Me: [Too moved to speak]

S.: And besides, you can trust Papa not to cut himself when he's carving the pumpkin. And I'm pretty sure we won't burn the house down....

So, my family has spoken and I have booked my trip.

It feels like I made the right decision.

Cross-posted to Mothers With Cancer.

pregnancy and cancer treatment: more questions than answers

This past weekend, the New York Times published an article by Pamela Paul called “With Child, With Cancer.” I had to set it aside for several days before I could bring myself to read it. When I finally did, I was very moved, equally surprised and left with many unanswered questions.

I did not enjoy being pregnant. I was plagued with constant, low level nausea, heartburn and crushing fatigue for the duration of my pregnancies. I was also affected by what I later learned was ante-natal depression (this lifted almost immediately upon giving birth. My spouse swears that my first post-partum words were, “I’m so happy not to be pregnant anymore!” He exaggerates only slightly). I also found myself to be in a constant fog (not unlike the effects of chemotherapy) and that coherent thought was often just beyond my reach.

During those periods, deciding what to eat for breakfast was a challenge. I cannot imagine having to deal with the kind of life and death decisions faced by a woman dealing with a diagnosis of breast cancer while pregnant.

You can read the rest of this post at MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com.

the very definition of a "thankless task"

An evening conversation in my kitchen:

Father (opening lunch bag): "You didn't eat your peach!"

Five year old Son: "I didn't see it was a peach."

Father: "What did you think it was?"

Son: "Something gross."

And that is why I hate making school lunches.

fixing insomnia

I have been suffering from insomnia of late.

I have no trouble falling asleep but I wake up, at least once, and have trouble falling back asleep.

And then, during the day, I am having real trouble focusing. I have a list of writing I need to get done but the last two hours have been frittered away doing who knows what.

I think that I am doing all the right things to encourage a good night's sleep but I think I'm a little stressed. Perhaps I will sleep better once my latest blook deadline is past (next Monday) and I have another CT under my belt.

Sigh.

Perhaps I should have this guy come over to my house and sing me to sleep?

the internets have spoken

Last night, when I went to bed, I was pretty convinced by you all that I should go to the conference. Then, when I woke up this morning I found that a bunch of you had made equally compelling arguments for staying home. Now, I'm thinking on it.

Some of your comments, though, prompted me to write the following Tweet last night:

"I need to clarify that T. makes the Hallowe'en costumes. And does 95% of the cooking. I'm pretty much just a trophy wife."

While the truth is that I do pull my weight around the house (most of the time), the idea that I am hesitating about going away because my spouse couldn't cope without me is laughable in the extreme.

The costumes will get made without me (as they would even if I were here). The kids probably wouldn't even notice my absence. I just like to watch it all unfold.

And take photos that I can embarrass them with, later in life.

what to do? your input needed.

Today finds me faced with a dilemma.

I just found out today that I have been awarded a scholarship to attend this conference in Philadelphia. It is being organized by Living Beyond Breast Cancer (don't know a whole lot about them but I do love that name). My air fare and half of my hotel will be covered.

The content looks interesting.

And I would love the chance to meet some other interesting women living with cancer.

It will be almost exactly a year since I attended this conference, which rejuvenated and inspired me.

However, the Philadelphia conference is on Saturday, November 1st. It starts at 9:00am.

This means I would miss Hallowe'en in Ottawa.

I love helping my kids get ready and sending them off to trick or treat. I love giving out candy (I love eating it, too, which is not as good for me).

I need your help. What should I do?

Oh, and if I go to the conference, I get to stay here for two nights.

we clean up nice

But could we get one pic where all of us were looking at the camera and smiling? Um, no.
Updated to add this cute pic of D. and my nephew, in their matching ties. S. had a matching one, too.

wow. this makes it so real

My sister found this when she googled me the other day.

It's funny how something can be simultaneously extremely cool and utterly terrifying.

That's not the final title and it's not coming out until the spring of 2009. Even so, I am embarassed to say how many times I have clicked on this link, just to prove to myself it's still there.

eating cake and the 20 second update

I have been out of town for a couple of days, spending time with friends at their cottage. We were four adults, four boys ranging in age from 17 months to 11 years and five dogs of various ages and sizes. It was barely controlled chaos and absolute bliss.

I am home now. In a few minutes I will turn off the computer and go curl up with a good book and a slice of my friend M.'s divine lemon pound cake (it contains an entire cup of butter and six cups of sugar. That's before icing) Perhaps I'll even have a ice cold cider with the cake.

In other news, I have a new post up at MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com, called "The Challenge of the Twenty Second Update."

This past week end, I went to a beautiful wedding with my family. In attendance were relatives I hadn’t seen in many years, lots of people I had never met and one of my favourite teachers from grade school.

I always feel a bit of awkwardness at these kinds of events, as I brace myself for the inevitable questions, “What are you up to these days?” or “What do you do?”

No one wants to drop the c-word at a wedding, least of all me.

You can read the rest of this post here.

I hope you are all enjoying summer's last gasp with your own cold cider and lemon pound cake. Or whatever it is that makes you happy.

when boring is good

This is an excerpt from a post I wrote for MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com. I wrote it last Tuesday morning, before chemo:

When I am done, I will crawl off the bed a lot more slowly than I climbed onto it and my friend will take me home. For the next few days, I will feel like I have the flu. As my physical symptoms improve, my mood will worsen. By Friday, I will have to keep reminding myself that my rage and my sorrow are temporary.

And then Saturday will come and I will feel (more or less) like myself again.

If all goes well, things will continue like this over the next few months. Chemotherapy every four weeks. Clean scans every few months. And my echocardiograms will show that my heart still beats strongly and with regularity.

I am left with little to tell about my life as a cancer patient that is earth shatteringly new. But, as my spouse is quick to point out to me, when you have metastatic cancer of any kind, boring is very good indeed.

You can read the rest of this post here.

beautiful faces

Updated to say that my spouse thinks I should have edited my leg out of the second picture. I am feeling extremely lazy today, so I can't be bothered. I think it looks fine, as it is.

Updated again: A very nice reader of this blog cropped the pic for me and I concede that it really does look much better.

food meme

Recovering from chemo always provides me with an excuse to spend time online getting caught up on the blogs that I love. I am stealing this meme from Average Jane, who also posted the following instructions:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

It took me a while to do (I cut myself some slack when I am in my jammies for days on end) but it was fun.

And I have the following observations:

1- I don't know as much about food as I thought I did. I had to look a lot of these things up.

2-I am not as adventurous as I was in my younger days. Not sure that I would eat frogs' legs now. Or that I would have turned down head cheese, had I been offered it when I was younger.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison

2. Nettle tea

3. Huevos rancheros

4. Steak tartare

5. Crocodile

6. Black pudding

7. Cheese fondue

8. Carp

9. Borscht

10. Baba ghanoush

11. Calamari

12. Pho

13. PB&J sandwich

14. Aloo gobi

15. Hot dog from a street cart

16. Epoisses

17. Black truffle

18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes

19. Steamed pork buns

20. Pistachio ice cream

21. Heirloom tomatoes

22. Fresh wild berries

23. Foie gras

24. Rice and beans

25. Brawn, or head cheese

26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper

27. Dulce de leche

28. Oysters

29. Baklava

30. Bagna cauda

31. Wasabi peas

32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl

33. Salted lassi

34. Sauerkraut

35. Root beer float

36. Cognac with a fat cigar

37. Clotted cream tea

38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O

39. Gumbo

40. Oxtail

41. Curried goat

42. Whole insects

43. Phaal

44. Goat’s milk

45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more

46. Fugu

47. Chicken tikka masala

48. Eel

49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut

50. Sea urchin

51. Prickly pear

52. Umeboshi

53. Abalone

54. Paneer

55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal

56. Spaetzle

57. Dirty gin martini

58. Beer above 8% ABV

59. Poutine

60. Carob chips

61. S’mores

62. Sweetbreads

63. Kaolin

64. Currywurst

65. Durian

66. Frogs’ legs

67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake

68. Haggis

69. Fried plantain

70. Chitterlings, or andouillette

71. Gazpacho

72. Caviar and blini

73. Louche absinthe

74. Gjetost, or brunost

75. Roadkill

76. Baijiu

77. Hostess Fruit Pie

78. Snail

79. Lapsang souchong

80. Bellini

81. Tom yum

82. Eggs Benedict

83. Pocky

84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.

85. Kobe beef

86. Hare

87. Goulash

88. Flowers

89. Horse

90. Criollo chocolate

91. Spam

92. Soft shell crab

93. Rose harissa

94. Catfish

95. Mole poblano

96. Bagel and lox

97. Lobster Thermidor

98. Polenta

99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee

100. Snake

vindication

One of my least favourite of household chores is the making of school and day camp lunches. It is an entirely thankless task, one in which I often see the results of my efforts returned at the end of the day.

And, ten year old S., in particular, has told me on more than one occasion that the lunches I make are not nearly as good as those of his peers. I am not sure if this is because white bread, sugary drinks and most highly processed treats are off the menu, if his perception is distorted or if my lack of enthusiasm for the task is reflected in the end product.

At any rate, I have not had to pack him a lunch in a while and I haven't missed it.

However, S. has spent the last couple of weeks staying with his Grandma and attending a day camp at the Royal Ontario Museum (an animation camp. They are making movies!). On the first day, Grandma asked S. what she should make him for lunch.

"Mama always makes me a ham and cheese sandwich with butter and a little bit of hot sauce."

Perhaps my efforts have not gone entirely unappreciated after all.

i'm too busy to have cancer

I have far too much on my plate right now to go to chemo.

But I must.

See you on the other side.

Meanwhile, I have a post up at MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com.

another incredbible piece of writing

Jenny, who writes at "At Least It's A Good Cancer," wrote this piece, on the change in identity that comes with being a cancer patient:

At first, I wanted so much to maintain my professional identity, to be the smart, strong person who just happens to be going through cancer treatment. I didn't want to be like those grey, wispy, shadowed people sitting in the waiting room in their headscarfs and their wheelchairs. When I had surgery and couldn't wash my own hair, it was hard to accept help because it just drove home my incapability. When I couldn't walk outside for a full half hour at a time, I felt the loss of my physicality more than I had ever felt its presence.

What the writer doesn't say, and what happened too slowly for me to watch, is that you really can go back to something like your old life, and leave that self-loss behind; but it's almost like a projection of your old life, one rendered in all the same colors and moving in the same patterns, but against a different screen, parallel to the old but never quite touching.

I cannot say how much this spoke to me, even though Jenny has completed treatment and mine is ongoing. I have been thinking a lot lately about how strongly I feel about wanting to be seen as strong, vibrant and above all well, that I have even become defensive when anyone implies otherwise.

You can read the rest of Jenny's post here.

more random

I am feeling a little scattered today so here are so more random thoughts:

1. I have been in such a good mood since my manuscript came back from my editor. I think I am just basically relieved that she didn't say, "This is a piece of sh*t and I have no idea why we said we would publish it." Sometimes it pays to set your expectations really low.

2. I am finding time management or the organization of my day to be a real challenge. No matter what thing I do well on any given day, there are several that I should have done and didn't.

3. I am very sad that Jeremy Hinzman is being deported.

4. I took a deep breath and gave some thought to an email before I wrote it today. In doing so, I realized that the other person had raised some valid points. I think cancer has made me grow up a little.

5. I am very psyched for the Ottawa Folk Festival. It had better not rain (as it has almost every day this summer). We had such a good time last year.

my 'best of the blogosphere'

Today's blog is brought to you by other people. Only they don't know it yet.

I am behind in my blog reading and even further behind in life but here are some of the best posts I have read this week, the ones that I keep thinking about:

I Don't Want to Be Dooce by Sassymonkey.

Ambulance Chasing by Mary P. Jones (MPJ)

And look what my friend Jacqueline, of Rebel 1in8 has been up to:

the view from here

The internet can be such an interesting place, no?

completely random

1. When it comes to John Edwards and his affair, I am just about completely indifferent. Elizabeth, however, remains my hero.

2. I realize that I never did blog about meeting her at BlogHer last year. I'll have to do that.

3. I looked up the live-blog of my session at this year's BlogHer and found this. It feels a bit to me like she wasn't at the same session as I was. I remember lots of laughter and a mostly hopeful message. Am I being over-sensitive? Also, I thought live-blogging was meant to be straight-up recording not editorial comment. Feel free to set me straight on this.

4. I have been running with my ten year old son and my big dog. We are now at the place in our program when we run 8 minutes and walk 1 minute (twice) and then run for two minutes (for a total of 18 minutes of running). When I was diagnosed with mets, I threw out my running shoes, so sure was I that I would never do this again. I am so proud of myself and so happy to be running with my son.

5. Yesterday, in my son's absence, I decided to initiate the puppy to running. I had the big dog tied around my waist and held the leash for the little one in my hands. I looked like the crazy dog lady. I know that we have to be careful not to push puppies too hard but I am a VERY slow runner and I kept checking to see if she was flagging. After the run, I took her to the dog park and she tore around some more. I don't think that I pushed her too hard.

6. Today, a big dog walked up to me in the dog park and peed all over my legs and my nice red sandals. The owner was barely apologetic. I would have been mortified.

7. My spouse and I are giving his cousin some wine as a wedding present. We have been using this as an excuse to do our own wine tasting. We currently have three open bottles, going to vinegar.

8. When I won the DS at BlogHer, I thought I would just give it to my kids. Who knew there were such fun games for adults? The game came with a crossword game (I am hooked on the anagrams) and I got two more brain enhancing games for my birthday. It turns out that I am not very smart. And I am having to ration my game time.

9. I wanted Katee to win So You Think You Can Dance. Joshua was my second choice, though, so I'm OK with that. I started watching by accident when they were at the Top Ten. I was quickly hooked. I hadn't actually watched any TV in months.

10. My book just came from my editor. It's time for my last crack at revisions. She was happy with it, thank goodness. I have been glad for the break from it and feel ready to get back at it.

11. What I really feel like doing is walking the dogs, knitting, eating and reading. Oh and hanging out with my family, too.

12. Thanks for all the birthday wishes. It really was wonderful. I slept in, ate lots of goodies and spent time with some people I really love. Great day.

every year is a gift

In a few days, I will turn 41.

I will be offline, hanging out at one of my favourite places in the world. I am not sure how peaceful it will be (we will be there with four adults, two kids, two puppies and a grown up dog) but I know it will be happy.

Last year my birthday was a very big deal. My friends and co-workers pooled their resources and sent me to BlogHer in Chicago. And there was a whole month of celebration leading up to the day itself. I was celebrating being alive, turning forty and my first clean scan after the metastasis.

This year I am happy to have things be much lower key. I am feeling pretty lucky these days.

In January, I acknowledged to myself that there were two things I really wanted this year, to attend BlogHer in San Francisco and a puppy. Thanks (again) to generosity from others (and the fact that I spoke at BlogHer this year), both of those things have been realized for me.

That’s a lot. And it’s enough.

Especially when I realize that every birthday marks another year that I have been alive in this beautiful world. Another year surrounded by people I love and in which I have the chance to learn and grow and become stronger.

I have been feeling a little off balance lately, tired and frustrated and somewhat overwhelmed. It’s good to have a birthday to remind me again how lucky I am. And with four clean scans now under my belt, I hope to have lots more chances to celebrate my birthday.

Now that’s not to say that I don’t want a little cake with a few candles and some home made cards from my kids (and I did treat myself to a facial before I left for SF). Even a low-key birthday needs to be celebrated.

I'll be back online on August 11th.

Cross-posted to Mothers With Cancer.

a very good man

On my first full day in San Francisco, I spent the early part of the day playing tourist. A highlight was a visit to City Lights Book Store. When I am away on my own, my kids and my spouse are never very far from my mind and this wonderful and historic book store seemed like as good a place as any to buy them some presents.

And so I did. I bought an armload of stories that I had never seen anywhere else and put them all in canvas bag with the store's name on it. I left the store feeling very pleased with myself.

I schlepped those books from North Beach to Union Square, for the orientation session for BlogHer speakers. But before going out for dinner and on to the various BlogHer welcome receptions, I stowed all my stuff in Babz's room in the hotel, so that I wouldn't have to carry them or risk losing them. Again, I felt very pleased with myself.

I had a lovely evening. I don't handle crowds of new people very well but there is something to be said for hitching yourself to an extrovert and just enjoying the experiences. And so I basked in Babz's glow and met some wonderful people at the Speakers' reception. I even won the door prize, a Nintendo DS.

As that party wound down, we headed up to the Newbie party for BlogHer first-timers. I demurred, as I was not a newbie but someone convinced me that I could play a role in welcoming the newbies. It sounded good to me, and besides it was in a rooftop bar with a beautiful view. I had expected to make the evening a short one, as I was jet-lagged and feeling the three hour time difference. I also had to commute out to friends' place where I was staying in Oakland. But it wasn't until we arrived at our third party of the evening (in yet another part of the hotel) that I realized that I had hit a wall (and that the room was just too packed for me). I left that party as quickly as I had entered it and headed back up to Babz's room to get my stuff.

Babz walked me down to the taxi stand (it was too late for me to feel safe walking home from the BART in Oakland) and saw me get off safely.

It was at that point that I realized that I was more than a little drunk. As I had been busy socializing all evening, the bar had been open and my glass was always full. And somehow it hadn't occurred to me to get someone to fill my glass with water.

I managed to slur out the address in Oakland to my cab driver, a young man who was really very nice. When I couldn't tell him how to get to my destination, he first called a friend and then used his Blackberry to call up a map. He had to use it again when I couldn't tell him where to exit off the freeway (something I could not have done even if I were sober. I am a terrible navigator).

While he drove, we chatted a little bit. I told him about the conference. He told me that he didn't usually like to drive to Oakland but that he was doing it for me because I "seem like a nice person."

"I am a nice person," I enthusiastically replied.

We were both relieved and happy when he dropped me off in front of my friends' building and we wished each other well.

In the middle of the night (skipping over the part where I locked myself out and had to wake my hosts who I had only met the day before so that they could let me in), I woke with a start and registered the fact that I no longer had the City Lights bag.

I tip-toed down the hall and back out to the street to see if I had left the bag on the front stoop (where I had sat while I had been trying to sober up), to no avail. Nor did Babz find the bag in her room. My receipt didn't have the name of the taxi company (and I couldn't remember). I checked twice with hotel security (in case it had been found and dropped off there) and with the lost and found table for BlogHer. By Saturday, I had given up and was trying to decide if I should return to City Lights and attempt to replace the presents I'd bought.

Then, on Saturday, as I was being miked for the session at which I was speaking, I heard my name being called. "I was your taxi driver," he said. And on his arm was a bag full of books.

"How did you find me?"

He made typing motions with his fingers. "Your name was on your credit card slip."

I was euphoric.

I asked him if I could hug him.

I offered him money (he refused).

Babz took his picture (which I won't post here because it doesn't do him justice).

And everyone made a big fuss.

"I was in the neighbourhood," he said, modestly.

But I know that he went to great lengths to track me down. He googled my name to find my blog. My last post had said that I was going to the BlogHer conference. I had linked to the BlogHer agenda, so he must have read it to find my name and the title of my session (I had told him that I was speaking). He then came to the hotel, checked the directory and followed the labyrinthine corridors to find me.

I am so touched by what he did. I wish that there had been something I could have done (I could have insisted on giving him money but I felt like it would embarrass him). His name is Eduardo and he is a lovely man.

The next time I have the chance to something nice for a stranger, I will think of Eduardo. I encourage all of you to do the same. If you do, please let me know in the comments (or if something like this has ever happened to you, please share that as well).

And yes, I really did behave myself for the rest of the conference.

more than my cancer

I really do have an amazing story to share with all of you and I meant to post it before now. Parenting, however, has proven an impediment. I will tell you my terrific story (how is that for a build up?) tomorrow but for today, here are some thoughts on the BlogHer conference:

When I meet someone new, I don’t usually introduce myself by saying, “I’m Laurie and I have cancer.”

In fact, there are many people I know only casually who have no idea that I have ever been through cancer treatment, let alone that I live with metastasis. People tell me all the time how healthy I look and I take pride (somewhat irrationally, I admit) in the fact that I don’t look like a typical “cancer patient.”

Entire days often go by when the word “cancer” does not cross my lips (I would like to say that there are days when it does not cross my mind but that would be a lie). I write about living with cancer but cancer is not my life. And I like it that way.

This year, for the second time, I attended BlogHer, a conference for women bloggers (last year it was in Chicago and this year in San Francisco). The conference sold out this year and there were more than 1,000 women in attendance. For someone who spends a lot of time by myself by choice, this is both an exciting and scary concept.

Meeting that many new people at the same time is always overwhelming. However, this is compounded for me because, at BlogHer, when I introduce myself, I have to lead with the fact that I have cancer.

“I’m Laurie and I blog at Not Just About Cancer. And Mothers With Cancer. And MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com.”

You get the idea.

You can read the rest of this post at MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com.

amazing encounters (part 1)

I met Grover! Sesame Street had a suite at the hotel that was hosting the BlogHer conference. They were promoting their new web site, which my son loves. The real Grover and the real Abby (she came after my Sesame Street time but she's really nice) were present and anyone who signed up could take home a DVD of herself on Sesame Street!

The atmosphere in the room was absolutely giddy. And I lost count of the number of moms who laughed as they insisted, "I'm telling them that I'm doing this for my kids."

Which is exactly why I did it. I swear.

I have to say that I am struck by this photo. Can you tell how happy I was right at that moment? Seriously, meeting Grover turned me into a giggling groupie.

I need to tell you all about two other amazing folks I met when I was in San Francisco. And neither had anything to do with blogging or the conference.

I arrived in SF on Wednesday evening. I didn't have my first meeting (an orientation for BlogHer speakers) until 3pm on Thursday, so I spent the earlier part of that day playing tourist.

On my walk back from North Beach to the hotel, my eye was caught by a store with some funky looking clothes and purses in the window. I am really not much of a shopper but there was something about this place that just spoke to me. Inside, I met Megan the designer, who was working away at her table as I browsed.

I tried on a gorgeous jacket (which looked great on me. The online photo doesn't do it justice. And the in store price was cheaper, too) and decided to justify it as a birthday present to myself (August 4th is not that far away...).

Martha and I chatted away as I browsed. Now, I have no idea how this came up but at some point she mentioned menopause. I told her that I had gone through menopause at 38, due to chemotherapy (not the kind of thing I generally tell a complete stranger).

Then Martha told me that she has had Stage 4 thyroid cancer that she has been living and working with for many years (I not absolutely certain about the thyroid or the number of years. I was just so stunned by this revelation).

I told her that I am Stage 4, too.

We hugged. And we looked at each other, a little in awe.

You wouldn't guess that either of us had cancer. We both look pretty damn healthy. Better than healthy.

I floated out of the store, so buoyed was I from this encounter.

And I will always think of Martha, hope and inspiration when I wear my beautiful jacket.

I'll tell you about another amazing encounter tomorrow.

safe, sound, happy and tired

I had a wonderful time at BlogHer '08.

I had chemo the day after my return, though and am still recovering. Some longer posts are owed to you all very soon.

Meanwhile, here is a pic of me, BlogHer co-founder Lisa Stone and wonderful Babz (Babz and I, who had never met in person, took to each other like two old friends).


I had to snag this photo from Babz, since I took exactly one photo all week end. It's of me and an international celebrity and I will post that tomorrow.

i'm off!

I am off to attend (and speak at!) BlogHer in San Francisco. And since my laptop is still at the computer hospital, I will be offline for the next few days.

I am in for a late night, because no matter how much I have been scrambling. I will be glad to be done and on the road.

As for BlogHer, I am, in equal parts, excited and completely panicked.

If you are going too, and see someone whose blog has "cancer" in the title, please don't assume that she doesn't want to have fun, OK?

I will be home late on Monday night and have chemo the next morning, so not to worry if you don't hear from me again until July 23rd.

Meanwhile, I have two new posts that I haven't told you about up at MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com. Living With Metastasis: Younger Adults Living With Cancer and a piece that was very hard to write but deserved to be written, Punk Rock Mommy: A Tribute.

I'll be back at the keyboard in a week!

breast envy

Originally posted at Mothers With Cancer.

I find myself continuously inspired by the group of bloggers in our little community. Today's post was provoked into being by Lahdeedah's post "The Road to OK" and imstell (Stella)'s response, "Acceptance."

I have always felt ambivalent about my breasts. As a young woman (I was an early bloomer, it must be said) they brought me attention that was at times unwelcome and at times confusingly gratifying. They fed two children for a total of more than three years. Once large and round, they were irrevocably changed by motherhood, as my nipples moved southward and seemed to stretch ever more closely towards my toes.

And then my right breast betrayed me, playing host to the tumour that would eventually spread to my lymph nodes and then to my liver. On February 2nd ("Groundhog Day!" I exclaimed when my surgeon told me the date. I had to explain that I was not objecting on the basis of this being a special holiday for me), I had a mastectomy.

I feel no less ambivalent now that I have only one breast. I was consumed with terror before the surgery and relieved afterwards to see only one bandage across my chest. I was frustrated by drains and then by the fact that healing seemed to take a step back two weeks after the surgery (no one had warned me this would happen).

More than two years later, I am still plagued with post surgical issues, including a limited range of motion and lymphedema in my chest, back and rib cage (when I showed this to my surgeon, couple of weeks after surgery, he shrugged it off as "just back fat," so loathe was he to admit that he didn't know. He actually said that the fact that my breast was no longer pulling it forward the fat was sticking out more. My physiotherapist just about had an aneurysm when I told her that story).

Radiation left me with serious scarring that exacerbated the lymphedema and made it painful to wear a prosthesis. Most days I am perfectly fine with this. At other times, I feel extremely self-conscious. Some days I dress to camouflage and some days I am quite content with the altered landscape of my body.

It is in the summer time when I most miss having two breasts, when I sometimes long to look "normal" in a tank top. It is also when I find myself (as Lahdeedah confesses in her post), ogling other women with envy.

However, I remind myself that how I look is perfectly normal to those who know and love me. My older son has even said as much, as has my spouse. And along with the lines around my eyes and mouth (I smile a lot), the stretch marks on my belly (I have borne and birthed two beautiful boys) and even the little scar that runs from the corner of my left eye (I hit a metal bar when I was chasing a cute boy in my class during a game of tag in Grade 6), the scar on my chest and my asymmetrical shape tell the story of the experiences that have shaped who I am.

The following poem was originally posted last summer:

voyeur

Women's breasts emerge in the heat of the summer.
Big ones and small ones.
Perky ones (I could fit them in my hand).
Breasts nursing babies.
Freckled cleavage.
Wrinkled cleavage.
And breasts that can't possibly be real.
I stare at women's breasts now with great fascination.
And not a little envy.
I have never seen a woman with one breast.
Except in the mirror.

on perspective

I have a new post up at MyBreastCancerNetwork.Com:

A shift in my priorities occurred when I found out that my cancer had metastasized. And those priorities have not really shifted back now that my prognosis is more hopeful.

It's not so much a matter of living every day as if it could be my last (I don't actually think that would feel healthy or peaceful). It's more that I try and savour each new day like an ice cream sundae, appreciating each new flavour, right down to the last little bits in the bottom of the glass (I always did have a sweet tooth).

Lately, I have been forgetting to live this way. It's time to slow down again, enjoy my life and take pleasure in the things that give me joy.

You can read the rest of this post here.