where i've been

Update: I've decided that my habit of using initials instead of names makes some sentences confusing and nearly unreadable. Henceforth, I will use my discretion - and mostly use names.

Hey there.

March has been a busy month for our little household. And last week was March Break. We all drove to Toronto and then our oldest, Sacha, went to visit two of his parental grandparents in Florida. It was his first flight (other than a short hop between Toronto and Ottawa) on his own (and he's now too old to be an "unaccompanied minor"). 

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It seems that I'm not so great at multi-tasking these days. I have lots of blog posts in my head but before I write them, I thought I'd catch you up on what we've been up to since my last post.

On Saturday, March 12, I ran a bunch of errands and packed for our week away. We also went shopping for new clothes that my 7 year old could wear for a theatre date with his Grandma in Toronto.

He was very pleased with this outfit. The photo doesn't do him justice.

On Sunday, March 13, we drove to Toronto. That evening, Tim and I went out for a delicious Indian meal to celebrate our 20th anniversary (we celebrate the anniversary of our first date because our wedding anniversary is September 7. At that time of year, our lives are so busy. Besides, March needs a reason to celebrate). It's hard to believe it's been that long - and we still like each other.

I started my day on Monday, March 14 by lining up outside the Toronto office of Passport Canada, since we had realized the previous Friday (at 4:30) that our son's passport had expired (I can now safely confess this, as he has been and returned to Florida and you all can know that our parental ineptitude didn't lead to tragedy). I was second in line (well before dawn) behind a woman and her two young children from Northern Ontario who had been turned away from their flight to South Carolina the previous day (the woman's MP had assured her that her son could travel to the US on an expired passport. He could not). Her name was also Laurie and her boys were also five years apart. We bonded, as we stood on the pavement outside the passport building for 90 minutes.

Once the new passport was sorted, Tim and I took our youngest to the zoo (Sacha opted to go check out the  TIFF building with his Grandma). I didn't take any pictures but we had a great time. It's a sprawling place with animals that appear to be reasonably content. At least I hope so. Daniel was ecstatic. His favourite animals were the gorillas and the bats (no photos. I was too distracted and perhaps still groggy).

On Tuesday, March 15th, Tim drove Sacha to the airport in Toronto (I was happy not to go, since I was beside myself with anxiety) and then headed back to Ottawa to work (he was extremely patient with me as I texted him every forty-five minutes for updates).

I was happily distracted by the wonderful company of my friend Andrea We went out for brunch and then spent a few hours at the Purple Purl, one of my favourite places in the world. Andrea's spouse Patchen joined us for dinner and we three had a lovely meal. I was back at my Mom-in-Law's place before my seven year old who had spent the day with Grandma and gone to both a Second City kids' show and Billy Elliott.

On Wednesday, March 16, Daniel and I took the train to Guelph, where we hooked up with some cousins and went to the Butterfly Conservatory. Despite the heat in the building (I looked with envy at the folks who'd worn shorts), we had a great time. Besides the amazing butterflies (a gorgeous blue one landed on Daniel, to his great delight) there were many kinds of birds, fish and turtles.

Daniel and his young cousin Y. had some strong mutual admiration going on.

On Thursday, March 17, was primo cousin hanging out time. Daniel loved being the oldest cousin. Five year old N. (whose two older sisters were in Florida with Sacha) seemed equally pleased to have some boy time. 

I took the boys to see Mars Needs Moms in 3D (great animation, problematic movie) and then we went to a really great park. That evening, the boys entertained each other happily over dinner out (at Swiss Chalet - the pubs were packed with partiers dressed in green) and my brother-in-law and I had the chance to converse in complete sentences (my poor sister-in-law was at home recovering from a very bad case of food poisoning. She was more of a trooper that day than I would have been in her shoes).

On Friday, March 18, we returned to Toronto and I got to spend the afternoon and evening with my dear friend Leslie. We had lunch, browsed the Distillery District, went for a big walk along the Boardwalk and then had dinner at our favourite pub over pints. Meanwhile, Grandma took Daniel up the CN Tower and for a swim at the Y.

We took the train home on Saturday, March 19. We watched far too many episodes of The Magic School Bus  but not once did Daniel say, "How much longer?" or "Are we there yet?"

It was a very good week.

The last couple of days have been focused on re-entry - catching up with friends, going to appointments and making endless lists of things to do. As of this evening, Sacha is safely home. Tomorrow we can return to routine (bring on the fights about homework and cleaning up bedrooms). Whatever form it takes, a break from routine can be a very good thing.

now this could be fun

I've written before about the one major limitation of Herceptin - that it doesn't cross the brain-blood barrier. A couple of years ago (after meeting several young women with metastasis that had spread to the brain), I underwent a brain MRI. To my very great relief, there was no evidence of trouble but I think I'll will be requesting another before too long.

A few days ago, my friend Deanna posted a link to Breast Cancer? But Doctor...I Hate Pink and to Ann's take on the news that Viagra may help Herceptin to (ahem) penetrate the blood-brain barrier and thus help reduce the size of brain tumours.

 As Anne tells it:

"Herceptin, the wonder drug, has a flaw: it does not cross the blood-brain barrier. The blood-brain barrier was erected designed by nature to protect our brains from dangerous substances, such as bad viagra jokes, but what it means for cancer patients is that certain drugs can't get through to kill swollen bad cells. Herceptin cannot treat HER2+ breast cancer that has engorged spread invaded the brain. Apparently, if you add a big large generous dose of Viagra to Herceptin, it adds enough thrust power to break through that blood-brain barrier and bathe the brain in its heaving healing properties."

It's seriously interesting news but go read Ann's full post. It will make you laugh.
 
Cross-posted to Mothers With Cancer.

mixed. but good. i think.

And I'm not talking about the weather, which while it has been mixed, has been pretty consistently bad for the last twenty four hours. We had a big dump of snow (the photo above was taken from my front door), followed by freezing rain, which will be followed by ordinary rain.

Good thing I just bought rain boots.

My GP called me last week to let me know the results of my endoscopy (I won't get in to see the gastroenterologist until March 21st). All my results were negative - no celiac, no bacterial infection, no cancer. It's all good.

Then I talked to my oncologist on Friday. We discussed my scope results and my digestive symptoms (diarrhea, heartburn, abdominal pain). He expressed surprised that I was still feeling lousy on Friday after a Tuesday treatment. I told him that my recovery time had gone from four to six days and that last round, I'd felt sick for a week (this ended up being the case this time, too).

Then my oncologist said, "It's time to take a break."

I was floored.

I had been hoping to hear these words for months (years even) but when I finally did, I definitely had a mixed reaction. I'm being taken off the chemotherapy not because I've been in remission for a while (although I have) but because the chemo has started to take too big a toll on my body.

As Dr. G. said, "You can't stay on vinorelbine forever."

I'm going to continue with the Herceptin but take a break from the chemo for at least three months. Herceptin is also known to induce flu-like symptoms but I don't think it has the lasting toxicity of chemotherapy drugs. I'm likely to bounce back more quickly after treatments.

So we'll see what happens. There are no guarantees of anything and no promises. Every change involves risk.

But the next few months will be devoted to healing.

Cross-posted to Mothers With Cancer.

still ain't satisfied

Yesterday was International Women's Day and I marked it by keeping a therapy appointment and running a bunch of errands for my kids.

In yesterday's paper, Margaret Wente (whose column I avoid like the plague, as it's on the list of things that give me heartburn) wrote a column entitled "For the free, educated and affluent, welcome to the decade of women":

"In the West, International Women’s Day doesn’t mean much any more. It’s little more than a marketing opportunity for businesses, or an excuse for the last remnants of women’s grievance groups to keep griping."

Setting aside the erroneous and offensive assumption that any woman reading the Globe in the western world is "free, educated and affluent", Wente's assertions are just plain untrue.

In "Why International Women's Day Matters", Emma Woolley has written a brilliant rebuttal. Go read it. It will only take a minute and it's very good.

Woolley also posted a video that was circulating yesterday, featuring Daniel Craig and narrated by Dame Judi Dench. I'll share it here as well. It's called Equals and it provides the best rebuttal of all.

On a lighter note, Daniel Craig makes a damned attractive woman and I am crushing on Judi Dench.

i'm fine.

Better than fine, actually. And I have lots of posts stewing in my head (that sounds kind of gross).

But I've had to spend the last few days running around doing all the things I couldn't get to when I wasn't feeling well.

Regularly scheduled (or at least semi-regularly scheduled) programming will resuming shortly.

scoped

I once had a colleague who was a former Fleet Street journalist. I can't remember his name but I do remember a story he told over a particularly boozy dinner.

"The worst kinds of press releases," he said, "keep all the best bits for the end. That's just not how it should be done. It's like reading a news story that says 'A crowd gathered at Buckingham Palace today. There were also fire engines and ambulances. The corgies were brought out to safety. The Palace burned to the ground. The Queen is dead."

As I went on to work in communications, I kept that anecdote in mind and tried to make sure that the most important facts were kept in the lead of my news releases.

But this is not a news release and I can tell my story in way that pleases me.

I had an endoscopy yesterday.

I wasn't terribly worried when the secretary at reception couldn't find any record of me. I credit the Ativan for that. You still feel the anxiety but it's further away. Almost like it's someone else's anxiety.

She must have found me in the end, because I was called into the endoscopy unit, given an id bracelet and told to change into a robe.

The endoscopy unit at the Civic Hospital could use a facelift. The paint was peeling off the walls in the waiting room and the beds in the prep and recovery area are separated by curtains. My neighbour and I learned a lot about each others' medical histories and bowel movements.

Every nurse I spoke to was very taken aback that I should have metastatic breast cancer at my age.

Every one of the nurses was really kind.

The nurse who took my history and prepped me for the anesthetic noted my "crappy veins" but she got the vein accessed in one poke, so major kudos to her.

My bed was eventually wheeled into the room where the procedure would be done. At this point, I met Dr. A. for the first time. There was another doctor with him who introduced himself so quickly that I didn't catch his name. This second doctor, who I assume was a resident (why don't they introduce themselves as such? Residents always say, "I work with Dr. So and So." They never say "I am learning from Dr. So and So. Do they think the patients can't be trusted with this information? This really bugs me because I can always tell they are residents and I would be much more forgiving if they were honest with me) began to very rapidly list off all the horrendous risks of the procedure and then handed me a waver to sign. 

It's a good thing that I had done tons of my own research (and that I had taken the Ativan) because I might have demanded that they wheel me out of there.

Dr. A. asked me if I had signed the waiver and if I had any questions. I said, "I just want to get this over with."

I mentioned my strong gag reflex to Dr. Resident. He instructed the nurse (pompously? Am I being biased?) to give me some extra shots of the anesthetic spray for my throat (I had the distinct impression that the nurse was going to do this anyway but perhaps I am biased). Then they hooked me up to the drip, placed a plastic frame with a hole in it in my mouth and shoved a tube down my throat.

I then proceeded to gag, choke and gasp for breath. Tears streamed down my face. 

I'll never forget the nurse who gently held my head and spoke comfortingly to me.

It's amazing how big the endoscopy tube looked to me. There's no way it could have  been that big in real life.

I heard Dr. A. say something about how studies had shown that the gag reflex was greatly diminished when Fentanyl is administered.

I heard Dr. Resident sound surprised.

A nurse administered Fentanyl via my IV. And then I was really, really stoned (I just read that Fentanyl is 100 times more potent than morphine and I had a cocktail with other sedatives).

Not sure if I passed out or not but I was pretty woozy. I know they called T. to come and get me. And I know that one of the nurses suggested I try and get dressed.

I sat up and nearly puked. The nurse got me to lie back down again.

Lather, rinse and repeat a few times.

One of the nurses gave me some apple juice, which helped.

I asked what drugs I had been given. A nurse looked that up and said with surprise that I had been given a drug in the Valium family and Fentanyl. She said, "No wonder you're so wasted."

I heard someone mention Gravol (known as Dramamine in the US). I now understand why they give it to me each time they give me Demerol at the cancer centre. They gave me a barf bag.

I texted T. to see why he still hadn't arrived. He texted back that he was in the waiting room. I told him to come get me. He said that the secretary wouldn't let him past the waiting room.

If he wasn't allowed past the waiting room and I wasn't allowed to leave without him (nor could I walk on my own), we were kind of stuck.

One of the nurses went to get him.

Before I left, Dr. A. came to talk to me. He said that I am to come to his office in around four weeks, at which time I will get my results. He also told me that there were no visible tumours (see what I mean about burying the good stuff under a whole pile of details?).

I went home and slept for 6 and a half hours. It would have been longer if T. hadn't come into the room to check on me. I was pretty dopey all evening (giving all my online Scrabble opponents an unfair advantage) and hit the hay before 10.

My throat hurts today and I'm still kind of tired but I did get out for a run (it's 10C here today that's 50F), so I guess I'm recovering pretty well.

In a months time, I'll find out if the biopsies revealed any pre-cancerous cells. Or if I have celiac disease. And Dr. A. promised that if they don't find anyting, he's going to want to do a colonoscopy.

What fun.

more small changes, harder than you'd think

I'm still struggling with working on my small changes in 2011.

This is how I've been doing:

Week 1: Weigh in and record my weight every Monday. 

I was late last week but I have been faithfully doing this. I'm down 5lbs since the beginning of the year. Not sure if there is any causal relationship or if this is due to my ongoing (ahem) gastrointestinal issues.

Week 2: Begin doing strength training exercises developed for cancer survivors. Work up to about thirty minutes, three times a week.

I got off track last week. It's hard to do core work when you have weasels chewing on your innards. I need to stop using this as an excuse not to work my arms and legs, though.

Week 3: Drink no more than five alcoholic drinks per week.

The weasels have helped me with this one.

Week 4: Drink more water. My nutrionist recommended drinking as many ounces as half my weight in pounds.

I've certainly been drinking more water, most days. I think half my weight may be an unrealistic goal, leaving me bloated and running to the loo all the time. I think I need to keep the goal but adjust the amount of water I'm expected to consume.

Week 5: Meditate every day. Start at five minutes and work my way up to twenty.

I have not meditated every day but I have at least half a dozen times in the last couple of weeks, which is around half a dozen times more than I ever have in my life. I still have to fight the monkey brain but I've worked my way up to 8 minutes. It's one way to make time slow down.

Week 6: I decided not to add anything to my plate.

Week 7: Always sit down to eat.

You'd think this would be no big deal but just a few minutes ago, I went to get myself a snack and caught myself eating sunflower seeds, while standing in the kitchen and thinking of wriitng this post. Clearly  I need to work on mindful eating.

feeling better

Because I've been able to go out for walks and for runs with the dog.

Because I had a really nice weekend and a very nice Valentine's Day (especially for someone who doesn't really celebrate it).

Because I have so many wonderful people in my life.

Because some of my symptoms have improved considerably (and they most definitely did not improve at all before I was diagnosed with the recurrence of cancer).

Because I have survived experiences that have been far more physically traumatic (like giving birth. Twice) than an endoscopy could possibly be.

I am feeling better today.

when Google is not your friend

So I've been having some (ahem) gastrointestinal issues for a while. Last spring, I was diagnosed with GERD. Things got better after I made some amendments to my diet and started taking meds (so much better that I got lazy about the diet and just took the meds). But now the issues are back in spades, along with abdominal discomfort and a feeling I can only discribe as "weasels chewing on my innards."

A couple of weeks ago, I went to see my GP who doubled my dose of the meds, ordered some blood tests and other (ahem) samples and put in a referral to a gastroenterologist. She told me that it would likely be a six month wait.

I had chemo on Tuesday, February 1st, which means I should have been feeling more or less like myself on the week end. I did not. By Saturday, I was still achy, weak, nauseated and the stomach weasels were out in full force. On Sunday, I felt no better.

On Monday, I went back to my doctor. 

She examined me and, to my enormous relief, reassured me that my liver is where it should be (not swollen and tender like it was when I was diagnosed with liver metastasis. She also said that I should  take comfort from the fact that my blood counts, taken less than a week before had shown all my liver functions to be perfectly normal.

We discussed the possibility of me having contracted a parasite or a virus (I certainly know enough people who've been ill, including my two kids. My suppressed immune system - from the chemo - makes me susceptible to every passing illness) or that anxiety could be playing a role in my physical condition.

My doc is a great advocate, though, and she picked up the phone while I was still with her and left a message for the gastroenterologist, asking if I could be seen more quickly.

I left her office feeling almost euphoric, with all health related anxiety pushed to the back of my mind (there was enough other anxiety to take up all the space in the forefront).

Then yesterday, I got a call from my doc's office, telling me that I have an appointment with the gastroenterologist - and an endoscopy - scheduled for February 17. That's really soon.

I've heard that endoscopies can be really traumatic experiences, so I Googled "endoscopy" just to reassure myself (seriously, that's what I told myself).

Well, not only do I not feel reassured (they shove a camera down your throat to look at your innards! I have a very strong gag reflex) but I am now freaking out about the test and about exactly what it is they might find down there. It could be nothing. Could be something relatively benign. Or it could be...well I'm trying not to think about it.

I haven't been for a run in more than a week because of chemo and the (ahem) gastrointestinal issues. But I think I might risk it.

the dog ate it

My 12 year old has been asking for a Blu-Ray player. 

We've informed him, many times, that given our current need for fiscal restraint, this kind of luxury is not in the cards, for the time being.

This morning, he and I were cuddling with the dog and talking about how much we love her. S. asked about her ongoing skin issues and when she's going to start her latest hypoallergenic diet. 

Me: "When the new food arrives at the vet."

S.: "Poor Lucy."

Me (sensing a "teachable moment"): "We had another big vet bill this week. Enough to pay for several Blu-Ray players."

S.: "Really?"

Me: "Yup. She's not the reason that finances are tight but she's one of our priorities. We love her and we have a responsibility to take care of her. The food, medicine and tests - it all adds up."

S. (grinning affectionately at Lucy): "So the dog ate my Blu-Ray."

He's a good kid.

small changes

My life is a work in progress (some days I feel like there has been more progress than others) and I can never quite escape the urge to make changes as the new year rolls in.

In the past I have I not found sweeping changes to be sustainable. Even my list of monthly changes last year didn't last past June. 

However, my pledge to make soup was a huge success and has served me well. In fact, today's lunch was soup (kale, sweet potato and red lentil with home made turkey broth) I made and froze a couple of weeks ago. During a chemo week, when I don't feel much like eating anything, it's a real gift to have something easy to heat up and healthy to eat.

This year, I resolved that it would suit me best to make one new small change every week. And so far, this is working pretty well. I haven't been perfect but the changes are adding up and I do feel like new, healthful habits are being created.

So today, on the eve of the Chinese New Year, it seems fitting to come clean on the blog and go public with my changes. You can all help me stay accountable.

And do let me know if you have made any healthy changes so far in 2011. I realized the other day that I'm far from alone. Over at BlogHer they were talking about taking small steps to get healthy for the entire month of January. How'd I miss that?

Here are my changes so far:

Week 1: Weigh in and record my weight every Monday.

Week 2: Begin doing strength training exercises developed for cancer survivors. I've been doing these on run days and plan to work up to about thirty minutes, three times a week.

Week 3: Drink no more than five alcoholic drinks per week. I've gone over this limit every week so far but not by a lot.

Week 4: Drink more water. My nutrionist recommended drinking as many ounces as half my weight in pounds. This is a lot of water.

Week 5: Meditate every day. Start at five minutes and work my way up to twenty. This is something I have been meaning to do for a while. So far this week, I have meditated twice for ten minutes each time. It's a start.

a day at the chemo unit

Today is a chemo day, so I won't be around to post anything new. This piece originally appeared as a guest post on the blog of the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation. It's pretty Ottawa-specific but I suspect that many of the routines are similar, wherever you're being treated.

Further to yesterday's post, I thought I would write about what you can expect when visiting the cancer centre for a chemotherapy or other systemic treatment. When I was starting out, I found the chemo orientation and the tour to be very helpful but there was a lot of information to digest. And I was feeling so overwhelmed that much of it was quickly forgotten.

Checking in:

Present your green hospital card at reception and your requisition form for blood work, if you have an appointment to do that before chemo.

Blood work:

It's worth digressing at this point to talk about blood work. You need to have blood work done in advance of every chemotherapy treatment – usually the day before or the day of treatment. You don't need an appointment to go to the lab, just your requisition.

However, I highly recommend getting a picc or a port. I had a portacath put in after my second treatment (it's a pretty simple and quick procedure) and I have no regrets. Chemotherapy can cause veins to become hard and small and blood draws can become painful, frustrating and traumatic. By my second treatment, finding a working vein was already a challenge. I think that my port makes everything much easier and am always happy to show mine to other patients. 

The only downside to going the port or picc route is that you have to make an appointment through the chemotherapy unit to have your blood drawn by a nurse. It's worth calling as soon as you know when your chemo will be. Allow about two hours between bloodworm and chemo. I always try and do both appointments on the same day – have my blood work done, then go have a snack and come back for chemo.

Back at reception:

Once you have checked in, look at your watch. Then go sit down in the waiting area and get comfortable (this is where a good book, crossword puzzle or knitting come in handy). You can also go and check out the free hats and scarves in the alcove to the right of reception. Just be sure and keep an ear open so that you know when you are being called.

If more than twenty minutes elapse between when you check in and when you are called, it's worth checking in again with reception to make sure there are no delays. In almost five years of treatment, I have only had to wait more than twenty minutes a handful of times.

The receptionist, a volunteer (in the yellow jackets) or a nurse will let you know when it's your turn and send you to one of the “pods” - the numbered units arranged around the outside perimeter of the unit.

Treatment:

Your nurse will introduce herself, go over your info (name other id, to make sure that you get the right drugs!) and you will be settled in a bed or a chair (don't be shy about stating your preference).

There are lots of chairs around for guests. If you have someone with you, ask them to sit on the opposite side from the iv drip, so that the nurse will have easier access and your friend will be more comfortable.

The nurse will take your “vitals” (blood pressure and temperature), check over your blood work and hook you up to the iv unit). Your drugs will be ordered from the pharmacy and while you wait, the nurse will likely start a saline drip, to get you hydrated.

Speaking of hydrated, it's perfectly OK to go to the bathroom during treatment. You're being filled with a lot of liquid! Just unplug your unit from the wall (they have batteries for back up) and head over to one of the washrooms.

I always bring my own blanket to chemo but there are also lovely warm sheets available to patients. Ask the nurse for one if you get cold.

During treatment you can read, talk to your friend, listen to music, watch a DVD and even cruise the internet (ask at reception for the wifi password). Do what you need to pass the time comfortably.

Treatment can take anywhere from ten minutes to several hours. When you're done, the iv unit will beep and the nurse will come and unhook you. She will mostly likely take your vitals again before sending you on your way.

I know that sounds like a lot of information but it's actually all pretty straightforward and there are lots of people there to ask for help and to answer questions. It will be easier than you think.

welcome to my life

Earlier this week, my friend K. sent me an article from the New York Times that was the best piece of journalistic writing on metastatic breast cancer I've ever read. And I've read a lot on this subject.

I cried when I read it (but as I told K., in a good way) because it resonated so deeply with me, juxtaposing the facts and the experiences of women living with cancer that can never be considered cured. I started to highlight the best bits to share with you here but ended up cutting and pasting more than two thirds of the article.

I've decided that it's best not violate copyright or my own ethics and just post the link and ask you to please go read this article:

A Pink Ribbon Race, Years Long.

least horrified by the worms

"Alabama governor touches off controversy with Christian comments."

Newly elected Alabama Republican Gov. Robert Bentley, speaking on Martin Luther King Day:

"Now I will have to say that, if we don't have the same daddy, we're not brothers and sisters," he told parishioners at a Baptist church in Montgomery Monday shortly after being sworn in. "So anybody here today who has not accepted Jesus Christ as their savior, I'm telling you, you're not my brother and you're not my sister, and I want to be your brother."

"CNN's Erick Erickson suggests "mass bloodshed" may be necessary if Roe isn't overturned."

From the conservative blog Red State, of which Erickson is editor in chief:

"...once before, our nation was forced to repudiate the Supreme Court with mass bloodshed. We remain steadfast in our belief that this will not be necessary again, but only if those committed to justice do not waiver or compromise, and send a clear and unmistakable signal to their elected officials of what must be necessary to earn our support."

"How much would you pay to eat this man's worms?"

Zoom wrote a post about a guy named Jasper Lawrence "who sells hookworms which he harvests from his own poop." It's really gross but also extremely fascinating.

And I think I'd be more comfortable with Jasper Lawrence than either Robert Bentley or Erick Erickson.

coldest January 24th in recorded history

It was -30C (-22F) or -38C (-37F) with the wind chill when I got up this morning. It was that cold yesterday too. I did go out yesterday but I didn't take a picture.

Zoom did, though.

It had warmed up to a balmy -21C (-6F) by the time I went for my run this afternoon. See the frost on my coat?

This is a very boring post. I wish I had something more interesting to say.

someone pour me a drink

A couple of months ago, I bought a sports watch at Zellers.* The clerk at the store convinced me to get an in store credit card, so that I could get a twenty-five per cent discount.

Against my better judgment, I agreed.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks later, when the bill arrives. Knowing that store credit cards have usurious interest rates, I pay off the balance in full immediately.

Fast forward to a few weeks after that, when I get another credit card bill, showing that I still owe the full amount plus interest.

Annoyed, I call the credit card company to complain. The woman on the other end of the phone was polite and helpful. She quickly identified the error, fixed it and told me to have a nice day.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks later when I start getting calls phone calls from “credit services.”

Now I'm downright irate. I call the credit card company again. The person with whom I speak this time has no record of my previous phone conversation. When I ask to have my card credited with the amount that I have already paid. He informs that's “not how things work.”

This is how Zellers proposes to resolve the problem:

They will send me a cheque covering the amount that I have paid them. And I will send them a cheque to cover my bill.

Allow me to restate this – Zellers is sending me a cheque for sixty dollars. And I'm expected to mail them a cheque for sixty dollars.

They can't just credit me with the money I've paid. I can't pay them online or over the phone.

Zellers and I have to send each other cheques for the exact same amount, so that they can cross in the mail.

At this point, I inform the agent on the other end of the phone that I want to cancel my card. He says that I have to call another number to do that and that he can't transfer me.

I place that call, cancel my card (“No, I say firmly, I do not want to give the company another chance”) and am then told that I have to call a third number to cancel the insurance on the card.

Nearing hysterics, I call the insurance people and am bluntly told (after being on hold for a while) that the insurance is cancelled automatically when you cancel the card.

My spouse will tell you that I am extremely tolerant (to the point of ridiculousness) of bad service, generally speaking. But this experience left me feeling that someone at Zellers needs to give some thought to getting it's act together.

*For readers out side Canada: Zellers is a large chain (like Walmart or Kmart). The Hudson's Bay Company just sold it to Target.

almost wordless wednesday: playing hookie

He said, "That was perfect."

cluck, cluck.

The following things have occurred in my recent past. My spouse has moved his office to our house and I have acquired a smart phone and the knowledge/ability to send text messages.

 Now that we are in the same house all day, it's possible that we actually speak less. He works in the attic and when I want to talk to him, instead of picking up the phone to call him, as I used to, I'm more apt to send a text (I'm late to the texting party, I know but I'm making up for lost time with a vengeance).

The following conversation took place this morning, via text message (the blog post in question is the one directly below about last night's dream):

Me: "Can you proof my blog?"

T.: "Sure."

Me: "Thanks!"

T. (a few minutes later): "No typos, that I could see. Just weirdness."

Me: "Do you want to have me committed?"

T.: "Hardly. We need the eggs."

Me: "I don't understand."

T.: "Old joke about a man who thought he was a chicken."

Me: "SNORT."

riddle me this

I had a very vivid dream last night.

Perhaps you can help me understand it.

I was a participant in a "So You Think You Can Dance" type show and it was time for three "girls" (I know I am long past girlhood but that's how it was worded in my dream) to be voted off by the other contestants.

When it came time for the results to be read, I felt absolutely relaxed. I was very confident that I would not be cut - and yet my name was the second one read out. I was voted off the show.

While I was surprised at this, my disappointment was fleeting and almost immediately replaced by relief. Euphoria even. I wondered to myself if I'd been voted off because I was viewed as a threat but mostly I was just happy to get the hell out of there.

All of this had taken place in a doctor's office waiting room and the three of us who had been ousted were expected to leave right away. 

But it was winter and I had lots of gear to put on and then I couldn't find my mittens (this kind of thing happens to me in dreams a lot). I checked in the closet, under chairs and then finally in the bathroom. As I left, after giving up, I noticed that the show's producer (a bland, balding man with a pocket protector) was looking worried.

I quietly asked if I could help with anything and he said, "Not unless you can defuse a bomb."

To which I replied, "Well, actually I can."

When he looked skeptical, I handed him an invisible business card, which he took from me without hesitating. I told him to call the number on it to confirm that I was indeed an undercover agent.

I went to the guest room (yes, there was a guest room. It had a single bed and and a faded bed spread, carpeting and a big closet) to lie down and await the go ahead. I was visualizing defusing the bomb and mentally preparing himself.

A few minutes later, the producer came in a with a younger, heavily made up woman (as though dressed for success in a high end law firm). She was holding a set of rental car keys and said, with disgust, "The number you gave us was for a car dealership."

I was perplexed but determined to sort things out. I gestured towards the cell phone that the man was carrying and dialled the number on the car keys. The phone rang a couple of times and then an automated female voice said, "You are being connected to Leila."

The call was forwarded to Leila's voice mail and I said, "Leila it's Juno. I'm at the studio and there's a bomb here that needs defusing. I need you to get in touch and give the OK."

And then my alarm went off (in real life) and I woke up, very disappointed that I didn't get to defuse the bomb.

I told T. about the dream. He agreed that it was pretty weird. I instructed him to call me Juno all day today.

Armchair psychologists: I leave it to you. What the heck did this dream mean? What am I trying to tell myself?

more yoga for those of us who live with cancer

Do you live in Ottawa? Have you been treated for cancer or are you in treatment now? Can you get to Old Ottawa South on Wednesdays at noon? Maureen Fallis, Director of Surround Circle Yoga, Certified yogaTHRIVE© Teacher has put together what promises to be a great program. I'm excited and planning on participating. Care to join me?

YOGA THRIVE

A course specifically designed for people who have an experience with cancer.

“Peace, ease, strength and a renewed sense of being human – this was my experience. It must have been the power of yoga at work!” S.B.

yogaThrive© is a therapeutic yoga program that will help improve body mechanics, breathing, ease, flexibility and strength. This 8-week program is designed to work at a physical level providing for immense shifts physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually … which could open the door to even more profound changes throughout the psyche. What begins on one level tends to continue at multiple levels – an absolute necessity for full healing to occur. The change can be fast, even when the stimulus or the input appears slow and steady.

Discover the beauty of yoga ~ feel better-stronger, more relaxed and in more control!

Surround Circle Yoga

15 Aylmer Avenue, Old Ottawa South

Wednesdays 12:00 – 1:15pm

January 19 – March 9, 2011

March 23 – May 11, 2011

$88.00 (HST is included)

www.surroundcircleyoga.com

613-730-6649

i forgot an important one!

I read it last January and it still haunts me. The characters. The prose. The story. City Of Thieves by David Benioff manages to be devastatingly tragic, powerfully hopeful and sharply funny. It's on the list of my life-time favourites.

Please forgive the hyperbole.

I just can't believe I forgot this book when I wrote up yesterday's list. Set during the first world war and the siege of Leningrad, City of Thieves tells the story of a young Jewish man who, in order to save himself, must find eggs - to be used to make a wedding cake for an officer's daughter - during a time of famine. His companion on this quest is a worldly Russian soldier and aspiring writer. The two men encounter the best and worst of human character and become the most unlikely of friends.

This one is beautiful.