Tuesday, May 21, 2013

brain slurry and eye candy

I seem to still be recovering from the weekend, with a brain full of mush. For those new readers I picked up after my post on Angelina Jolie - you might want to come back tomorrow.

Here's some of the random slurry from my brain:

Speaking of slurry, my 10 year old's baseball team voted on a name over the weekend. The results came in yesterday.




After one failed experiment, I made my own eye makeup remover yesterday. I don't wear makeup very often but when I do, I want something that will take it off without leaving me with more wrinkles and fewer eyelashes. My second try yielded great results - Burt's Bees baby wash, olive oil and water. It wasn't an original recipe or anything, I'm just thrilled that I was able to avoid buying a small, expensive bottle of something I was convinced I could make myself.

Finally, we had our Mothers' Day on Sunday (delayed because half the family was at the Toronto Comic Arts Festival last weekend). Pancakes and Star Trek Into Darkness were my two requests and they were happily fulfilled. The pancakes were delicious and the movie had Zachary Quinto, Simon Pegg and Benedict Cumberbatch
I loved every single second of Star Trek...

SPOILER ALERT!!

It was fun, fast-paced and had snappy dialogue and lots of nostalgia. Also did I mention Zachary Quinto, Simon Pegg and Benedict Cumberbatch? 
It wasn't until I got home that I started to brood about the fact that there don't seem to be any women running Starfleet. And the movie fails the Bechdel test.
At the time, I didn't even notice. I blame it on Quinto, Pegg and Cumberbatch.



Friday, May 17, 2013

Angelina Jolie, mastectomies and choice

People keep asking me what I think of Angelina Jolie's prophylactic mastectomy and subsequent op-ed in the New York Times. I've let my thoughts simmer a little before putting them into words. It's hard not to react viscerally to such a dramatic story.

I wonder who'll play Angelina in the movie?

First and foremost, I want to say that what any woman does to her own body and to preserve her own health is her own damn business. Unless we are in her exact pair of shoes there are limitations on the right to comment. 

Secondly, I think Ms. Jolie's choice to go public, especially given her status as a Hollywood sex symbol, is very brave. Having a mastectomy is shame-laden for so many of us and discussing the procedure openly does a great service. I love that she chose to emphasize how, most of the time, the mastectomy is not major surgery and recovery can be fairly smooth. A woman without her "natural" breasts can adjust and go on living her life as she did before - even when her husband is Brad Pitt and what she did before was star on the big screen.

I think that Ms. Jolie made the right decision for herself, based on her situation and the resources at her disposal. How do I know it was the right decision? Because she is happy with it.

That being said, I do have a few things I need to get off my (ahem) chest. These are my thoughts, in no particular order:


  • The vast majority of women would not benefit from genetic testing. We have no family history of breast cancer and do not belong to ethnic groups most likely to carry the gene.




  • Reconstruction is major surgery. Some of us would never put ourselves through a much more serious operation, that may not be successful, just to meet a societal definition of "beautiful", or even "normal."


  • The kind of nipple preserving surgery Ms. Jolie had is still new and not yet widely offered. In Canada, a group called Be The Choice is trying to change that. Melanie Adrian,the founder of Be The Choice had to see many doctors and fight hard to obtain this procedure for herself in 2011.  


  • Many women do not have the resources to get the quality of care that made the process so easy for Ms. Jolie. Even in Canada, where we have theoretically universal health care, there are geographic and socio-economic discrepancies that affect treatment and recovery.


  • Access to testing is also very restricted, largely because the BRCA1 and 2 genes (the ones that can mutate and cause breast and ovarian cancer) have been patented by a company that restricts its use and ensures that the cost remains high. The patenting of genes is an odious and frightening practice. I'll elaborate on that and share some resources in a future post.


Every woman needs to make her own decision about prevention, surgery and treatment. What we all should agree on is that these decisions ought never to be restricted by available resources, ignorance or the greed of big corporations.

Want to read more? Here are some of my favourite posts, offering insight from different perspectives:

"Still Boobless", on Insert Boobs Here, a blog by Sarah Merchant who was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer at 28.

"Angelina Jolie's choice not the only one" by Joan Walsh, on Salon.com.

"Angelina Jolie's Bilateral Prophylactic Mastectomy - If She &  I Could Chat", on Nancy's Point, by Nancy Stordahl who lost her mother to breast cancer in 2008 and went through the illness herself in 2010.





Tuesday, May 14, 2013

what it feels like to learn you have a brain tumour, if you are me

I was going through some writing from last fall and I found this. I wrote it, in response to a prompt - "Write about falling" - for an online writing class I was taking. Reading this brings me right back to how I felt when I heard the news that the cancer had metastasized to my brain. I share it now because I think it might resonate with anyone who's every been blind-sided with unwelcome news.


“Your CT scans were fine.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“But the MRI revealed a spot on your brain.”

And with those words you start falling. You feel the floor crumble beneath you and the sounds of talking fade as you slip away. You're vaguely aware of you own voice, sounding oddly calm, as the faces in the room grow blurry.

All that was solid rushes by and your lungs gasp for air and yet you move more slowly than you would have thought possible. The room, your spouse, the spot of egg on your doctor's tie, the clock on the wall with the time you had noted (you'd been annoyed that your appointment was starting twenty minutes late) recede into the tiniest of specks and the darkness engulfs you.

Falling feels scary and good at the same time. You are panicked but somehow you know that to fall away from your present is as good an escape as any.

And then a voice cuts through. One you know and love. A voice that has brought you back to reality so many times in the past.

And you land, far below where you started, with a thud.

You pick yourself up, reach back up towards those fluorescent lights you've always hated. And slowly, deliberately, reluctantly, you haul yourself back and to sit in the chair on which you started. You don't know what was said in your absence. No one seems to have noticed you were gone.

You find out later that your head nodded, your lips moved and words came out while you were falling. An appointment was booked, reassurances were made and a promise that a plan would soon be in place.

You remember nothing after the words, “spot on your brain.”

It doesn't matter. You've been through something like this before. Someone will fill you in on what you missed while you were falling.

Monday, May 13, 2013

funny, funny troll spam

Has anyone else noticed a new trend in blog spam? Usually spam comments tell me how brilliant I am, before linking to the stuff they sell. Then there are the ones about sex and related paraphernalia - often gibberish and including phrases like "home coffee maker porn shoes cologne gnocchi". 

Recently, I've had a couple that sound like trolls - accusing me of letting down my readership with laziness or self-pity. This appears to be a new spamming strategy.

My last post, "i don't have a brain tumour",was a photo of a bottle of Prosecco and a glass full of the bubbly stuff. There was not text, as I felt the title and the image were pretty self-explanatory. Before I delete all today's spam into oblivion, I thought I'd share this shining example of incongruous, inappropriate spamming:


"The very next time I read a blog, I hope that it won't fail me just as much as this particular one. After all, Yes, it was my choice to read through, nonetheless I truly believed you would probably have something interesting to talk about. All I hear is a bunch of crying about something that you could fix if you weren't too busy searching for attention. Feel free to surf to my web page: xxxx"

Ha! I'm sorry my celebration was so un-interesting, depressing and attention-seeking.Thanks especially for inviting me to check out your site, even though I'm so disappointing.

Do these links ever work?

I loathe spam but this totally cracked me up. 

Tuesday, May 07, 2013

better than words

A few weeks ago, I took my bike in for its spring tune-up at my favourite bike shop. 

I love getting back on my bike again. I don't drive (which is a whole other story), so riding my bike gives me a sense of independence. Riding has always given me a feeling of freedom and on good days, I renew the euphoria of childhood as I make my way around the city on my own steam.

Also, it's a lot more efficient than riding the bus and really good for my physical and mental health. 

My bike is a tank, weighing in at 42lbs and very solid. I sit upright as I ride it and it feels tremendously safe. However, I managed to tip it over while riding a couple of times last year. This tune-up included a new bell and fenders because mine were broken and they fixed the built-in basket which had been bent out of shape when I fell.

As he was bringing me my bike, the mechanic - usually polite but terse - asked, "Do you have kids?"

Surprised, I answered in the affirmative. 

"Do you lend them your bike?"

"Um..no."

"Because it was pretty banged up. It's usually kids who do that."

I admitted sheepishly that I was the one who had fallen and done the damage. I was tempted to just leave it at that but added, "It turned out that I had a brain tumour that affected my balance. The tumour is gone now and my balance is OK."

Without missing beat, the guy lifted his hand into the air. We bumped fists. I smiled widely, paid my bill and rode home with a light heart.

Some people know exactly what to say - even when they don't use words.



Monday, May 06, 2013

screening the sun like an ostrich

As is pretty normal around this parts, we seem to have gone directly from winter into summer, with no real spring in between. And we also seem to have gone from winter boots and coats to the danger of sunburn.

I've been in denial about all this but I noticed a bit of pink on my arms today and realized I need to start applying the sunscreen. You'd think this would be simple but it's really not.

I am extremely ambivalent about sunscreen. It's important as a means to help prevent cancer but much of it is filled with carcinogens. The kind that isn't can feel like rubbing on bread crumbs and leave cement like globs on your skin. I found one a couple of summers ago that was organic and everyone liked but it cost $52 for 147ml (5oz). In my house, one of these tubes didn't last very long.

I think I can justify something a bit more expensive that I use sparingly on my face but I need something that the kids can apply liberally without me hovering over them muttering contradictorily about coverage and waste (Blogger says "contradictorily" isn't a word but I think it ought to be and I'm going to use it).

Our fallback seems to be buying sunscreen with good sun protection power and recommended by doctors but still loaded with chemicals. Or to use whatever's handy and hope for the best.

I'm sure there is a better solution out there. Do you have an affordable, effective and safe sunscreen you can suggest? One that's good for sports? Good on your face?

I think I need to pull my head out of the sand. That might keep my head from getting sunburn but it's not a very practical way to spend our fleeing summer.


Tuesday, April 30, 2013

getting a little help to ease the way out

Few topics are as controversial as assisted suicide. It's currently illegal in Canada but recently, a Canadian woman with an irreversible debilitating illness travelled to Switzerland, where the group Dignitas provides assistance with suicide, legally.

I think most of us have contemplated our own deaths. When you live with metastatic cancer, it's impossible not to do so. I'm hoping that moment for me is in the distant future, but I find the prospect of a long, lingering death from cancer to be terrifying. However, is it more terrifying than the prospect of death itself?


I differentiate that from euthanasia because I think the term I use clarifies the willing and conscious participation of the person facing death. Am I kidding myself that this is a distinction that can be maintained? 


What would you want to do when the end comes? 

I'm certain that I believe assisted suicide should be legal. I don't know what I would do, if faced with a choice.


Tuesday, April 23, 2013

10 years old



Dear Daniel,

Yesterday, you turned 10. In honour of this momentous event, I thought I would list just a few of the things I love about you:

You cherish being funny. Your humour ranges from the brilliantly witty to jokes that have a lot to do with farts.
You are sensitive and full of empathy.
You are fully awake from the moment you open your eyes, every day. Sometimes, you complete the sentence at dawn that you started before you fell asleep the night before.
You revel in making others smile. You take great pride in being "a nice guy."
You will make up silly walks the whole way to school.
Some mornings, you say "I'm awesome" or "I love being me." These words fill my heart to bursting with happiness.
You have your own sense of style and the confidence to be yourself.
Your enthusiasm for life and it's adventures is completely contagious. I enjoy almost everything more when I do it with you.
You are a voracious reader. You love words and language and you use them with great dexterity (if you don't know this word, you can go look it up).
You wear you heart on your sleeve. The people you care about know they are loved.
You make me happy every day of my life.



I love you to the edge of the universe and back, multiplied by infinity.







Thursday, April 18, 2013

ask and ye shall.

Last night, I had dinner with my good friend Sharon, who has twice been treated for breast cancer. She's well now but we got to talking about asking for help during treatment.

We both had teams of people, providing all kinds of support during our health care crises. We were fed, entertained and accompanied to appointments. My kids were distracted and cared for, my dog was walked. My friends even paid to make sure that someone would come and clean my house while I was recovering from surgery.

To me, feeling healthy and strong again means requiring a lot less help. I speak with my oncologist over the phone. I breeze through echocardiograms. I walk or ride my bike to appointments. I even go to my regular Herceptin treatments by myself most of the time.

I feel fine about all this. I like being independent and I don't want to ask people for support when it's really not needed.

But sometimes it is.

On May 2, I have a brain MRI. These are always fraught with anxiety for me. My head is wedged into place and then encased in a small tube. And it's unbelievably noisy. I'm reasonably good at self-soothing and yogic breathing but as I force myself not to mind the physical discomfort, I start to worry about results. What will the radiologist see in my images? What can the technical staff see, as they test is being done?

There is not enough meditation or Ativan in the world to make this a pleasant experience.

Tim has come with me to my last few MRIs but on May 2nd we have a child care conflict. I was contemplating going alone when I was reminded by my conversation at dinner that there was another option: asking for help. 

When I got home, I logged on to Facebook:


Within minutes, I had a friend who offered to go with me and someone who said they'd be backup. And there were so many others who couldn't go but who sent their love and support or said they'd be there with me in spirit.

And they will be.

Note to self: Ask for help, even if you think you don't really need it. You'll be very glad you did.

Friday, April 12, 2013

going to Gil's Hootenany on May Day. I plan to sing my heart out.

I have a new post up at Frivolity about how I'm going to sing my little heart out with a bunch of other people.


"Despite the fact that I've been told since I was young that I can't carry a tune, I love to be in the middle of a room of voices raised in song. It feels to me like being embraced. Usually, I start with mouthing the words and get braver as the event continues.This May Day, I'll sing right along with everyone else, in memory of a wonderful activist and lover of music. If you live in the Ottawa area, come join us at Gil's Hootenanny in singing "Songs of Protest and Hope" on May 1st."
You can read the rest of this post at getfrivolous.com.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

book review - But Hope is Longer: Navigating the Country of Breast Cancer*


“I felt like a snake having to shed its old skin... I mourned each layer of myself as I imagined it loosening and separating from me before I sloughed it off and watched it fall to the ground: my resilient good health, my identity, my hopes for a vibrant future. The shedding of each successive layer left me even more naked, raw and vulnerable. At that point, I had no sense that there was any regeneration underway or that there would be anything to replace the parts of myself I was losing.”


Being diagnosed with breast cancer changes you, irrevocably. In But Hope is Longer, Tamara Levine writes beautifully of her own transformative process. She also, in sections called Reflections, looks back on her experience with the benefit of time and a clear-eyed analysis. Finally, she interviews all of her caregivers from those at the cancer centre, to her naturopathic doctor to her life coach - bringing together their insights on treatment and patient care. The result is a book like no other.

For Tamara, the writing process began with a series of Healing Journey letters she wrote to family and friends. In these letters, she brings loved ones up to speed on what is happening with her but also shares her feelings, observations and the things she learns along the way. These letters helped Tamara to rediscover her love of writing and with these stories she shares her experiences from medical mishaps and mismanagement, getting on the right track, her celebration of friends, feelings about physical changes and the loss of her beloved father to leukemia. These are the pieces that very frequently left me with a lump in my throat.

In the sections she called Reflections, Tamara fill us in a bit more on what was happening during the times she wrote the letters. She also thinks back on the decisions she made, sometimes critically. Tamara doesn't mince words here, as she relays interactions with those closest to her and the experiences that were part of the treatment process. Most important of all, she concludes that the most serious flaw in breast cancer treatment in Canada is a lack of coordination across treatment areas (the caregivers themselves speak of working in “silos”) and makes the recommendation that this be addressed in the form of a “nurse navigator.”

“If we were to imagine a better process...what would it look like?...there is a centre for where women go for 'one stop shopping' for all the diagnostic and planning steps leading up to treating their breast cancer...We are warmly greeted by a nurse who has been specially trained for her role as 'navigator' who has taken the time to become thoroughly familiar with our file...she advises us as to what lies ahead, at least in the short term...She is available to us throughout the journey.”

This vision would transform the experience of cancer patients. I'm convinced it would also improve outcomes. I hope someone at my cancer centre who is in a position to create change reads this advice and takes it to heart.

The last thing Tamara does is interview her caregivers. Their comments are interspersed throughout and included in Voices of the Healers. Each one clearly cares about the outcome of every patient and all bemoan the lack of cooperation between treatment teams. In particular, I was struck by the willingness of the 'mainstream' oncologists and surgeon to engage with Tamara's naturopathic doctor as well as the humility and wisdom of each person who was interviewed. I've never seen the words of healers collected in this way and the result is powerful.

The very best of books stay with the reader and may even influence how they live their lives. As an ongoing cancer patient, I was very moved by But Hope Is Longer. I also initiated my own relationship with a naturopathic doctor (ND) after reading Tamara's book. My new doctor specializes in oncology and I'm very excited and grateful for this new relationship.

But Hope Is Longer is compulsively readable, full of clear, useful advice and includes the perspectives of those who spend their days thinking about how to better care for cancer patients. More than a breast cancer memoir, this is a book that everyone will want to read.

But Hope Is Longer:Navigating the Country of Breast Cancer (256 pages, $19.95) was released by Second Story Press in October, 2012. In Ottawa, it is available at Chapters, Octopus Books, Singing Pebble Books and Britton’s.  

*Originally published in the Glebe Report, on January 18, 2013.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

let's help writer David Farland and his son Ben

A couple of months ago, I subscribed to the email list of author David Farland, on the advice of a friend. I read his "Daily Kick in the Pants" almost as soon as it arrives in my inbox. The emails are short, entertaining and full of concrete and useful advice. I know I've already become a better writer because of the help he offers other writers - free of charge.


Today, David Farland and his son Ben, are in need of our help. Ben is 16 years old. Last week he had a terrible longboarding accident that has left him in a coma, with very grave injuries. Medical bills are spiralling into the hundreds of thousands of dollars. The family lives in the United States has no medical insurance.




Friends of David Farland's have organized a book bomb for today. A book bomb is typically a day when thousands of people buy a book, in support of an author. Today we are doing it to support Ben.

There are 3 ways that you can help:

1. Buy one of two featured books.





David Farland’s young adult fantasy thriller Nightingale has won seven awards, including the Grand Prize at the Hollywood Book Festival. It has been praised by authors such as James Dashner (The Maze Runner), Brandon Sanderson (Mistborn), and Paul Genesse (Iron Dragon series). You can read reviews on Amazon.com. 
Nightingale is available as a hardcover, ebook, audio book, and enhanced novel for the iPad. 
Buy it on Amazon.comBarnesandNobleon the Nightingale websiteor, get the enhanced version, complete with illustrations, interviews, animations, and soundtrack through iTunes.


If you are a writer, you may want to consider purchasing David Farland’s Million Dollar Outlines instead. Both books are part of the book bomb. Million Dollar Outlines has been a bestseller on Amazon for over a month and is only $6.99. David has taught dozens of writers who have gone on to literary success, including such #1 New York Times Bestsellers as Brandon Mull (Fablehaven), Brandon Sanderson (Wheel of Time), James Dashner (The Maze Runner) and Stephenie Meyer (Twilight). There are a bunch of reviews at Amazon.com.
Get it on Amazon.com, Amazon.ca or  Barnes andNoble.



2. Donate money directly.

You can do that here: http://www.gofundme.com/BensRecovery 

3. Help spread the word.

If you can’t spare any money, but would still like to help, you can do so by telling others about Ben’s donation page, and/or this Book Bomb. Share it on facebook, twitter, pinterest, your blog—anywhere you can. There is an event page set up on Facebook.

You can find out more about Ben and check on his progress at  http://www.helpwolverton.com/


Tuesday, April 09, 2013

i fear. but perhaps a little less.

“Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out. - Roger Ebert

As an atheist, I'm often come across the opinion that those of us without religious belief lack the kind of values that are motivated by faith. I reject this idea. My beliefs and values are as strong as anyone I know who would consider themselves religious. I believe in community and my best self is motivated by love and compassion. I'm held up and sustained by those who love and are compassionate towards me in return. I feel that each of us has the responsibility to leave the world in better shape than we found it. 

In an article written in September 2011, Roger Ebert put into words the sentiments I have struggled to express. And he did so much more elegantly than I could ever dream of doing.

The man was a poet. He was smart and funny. He was passionate about his interests and the people he loved. And with his words, he comforted me more than I can ever express.

The article is called "I do not fear death" and was published in Salon. Unlike Roger Ebert, I do fear death a great deal but perhaps I'm a little less frightened now.

Monday, April 08, 2013

do you have lymphedema?

Do live in the Ottawa area? Do you have secondary lymphedema (as a result of any kind of cancer)?

University of Ottawa professor Roanne Thomas and her team are is running a pilot of a study and are looking for participants:


I've lived with truncal lymphedema since my mastectomy in 2006. Very little has been written on this subject and the advice I've found online or been given in workshops all has to do with arm lymphedema. My arm is fine but my chest and back can become very uncomfortable, to the point that it can be outright painful to wear a prosthesis. And the measures you take to prevent lymphedema in the arm can make truncal lymphedema worse.

I would love to have the chance to share my experience, learn from others and gain new insight into living with lymphedema. Unfortunately, the scheduled dates don't work for me, so instead, I'm reaching out to you.

Would you benefit from a program to support people with cancer-related lymphedema? Would you like to help create one? Contact Liz at epigott@uottawa.ca.


Hopefully this pilot will be tremendously successful and the researchers will get funding to run a national lymphedema support program. I'd like that. Meanwhile, if you take part, please keep me posted.

Friday, April 05, 2013

grounding

This is a treatment week and it's different every time. I get Herceptin over 90 minutes, Demerol to keep me from reacting to the Herceptin and Gravol (Dramamine in the US) to keep me from getting nauseated from the Demerol. Fun times (the actual infusion of Demerol can feel sort of fun. For a while). 

Afterwards, I never know how I'm going to feel. I've had doctors express surprise that I feel lousy after getting Herceptin, yet the nurses do not. I choose to believe that it affects me intensely for the same reason I reacted so strongly - because it's a drug that works for me.

Some rounds are pretty good, the last one was awful and this one has been somewhere in between. I feel worse today than yesterday. I haven't forced myself to exercise and perhaps that's the wrong thing. I did write a lot yesterday and was very productive in a sedentary way. Maybe I overdid it.

I'm always second-guessing myself. Sometimes, it's no fun being in my own head.



At any rate, I am tired and cranky. I've skipped yoga but I will get out of the house to meet a friend for coffee and then take Daniel to drum lessons.

I've been working my way through Julia Cameron's Walking in this World. While it's not as life changing of as my experience of the Artist's Way, there are lots of interesting bits.

Today I had to do a very well-timed exercise. I had to list 10 things that make me feel more grounded. I ended up with 11.

Here they are, in no particular order: 

1. Making lists.

2. Doing something with either of my kids, just for fun.

3. Hanging out with Leslie.

4. Reading a book and writing/talking about it.

5a Knitting.

5b Knitting with Karin and Deb.

6. Folding laundry.

7. Crossing things off my to-do list (see first item).

8. Taking a shower.

9. Journalling.

10. Burying my face in the crook of Tim's neck.

11. Going for a walk.

I feel more grounded already. Blogging must be my number 12.

Thursday, April 04, 2013


I had the privilege of being an early reader of this book and it's fantastic. Even if you don't live with rheumatoid arthritis (RA) there is lots of advice in this book about pain management and living with a chronic illness. Lene is a friend of mine (in the interest of full disclosure). She's funny, smart, compassionate and wise and all of this comes through in this book. It's a must read for anyone who knows anyone living with a chronic illness but an especially important book for those newly diagnosed with RA.

Your Life with Rheumatoid Arthritis can be purchased as an ebook from Amazon.comAmazon.ca and Kobo books for a very reasonable price. Go buy yours now.


Sunday, March 10, 2013

it's not easy be(com)ing green

"You know what would make this kale smoothie better? Get rid of the kale."
-Tim, March 9, 2013

"I've added flax to my green smoothie. Now, all I need is a protein."
"Like a side of steak?"
-conversation between Tim and me, March 10, 2013*

Really unappealing but tasty, I swear.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about meeting with Heather, a cancer coach at the new survivorship centre. Her background is as a nutritionist and I have chosen to focus on that topic with her.

She's impressed on me the importance of making small SMART goals. I've chosen to focus on getting at least 5 servings of fruits and vegetables every day for the next month (after which I will buy myself a small present, as directed by Heather).  I was sure it would be laughably easy.

It is not.

Heather also gave me some recipes and encouraged me to try them as a way of increasing my consumption of fruit and vegetables. I tried a version of one yesterday with kale, mango and mixed berries. It was delicious but the blender didn't do a great job with the kale, leaving chunks of it to get stuck between our teeth (see first quote from Tim, above).

After a wonderful conversation on Facebook (it seems that lots of people find the topic of making green smoothies to be of passionate interest), I decided to put the water in first and blend the kale before adding the fruit. A video on "How Your Blender Uses Physics to Make a Smoothie" posted by my friend Hélène, was fascinating and very helpful.

Today, I put water and the kale (more than yesterday) in first. This helped my blender to be much more effective. I added fruit gradually, until the bitterness of the kale was masked by the berries and mango. I also added a tablespoon of flax seed.

The result wasn't pretty but it did taste pretty good.

I also found out yesterday that my friends have very strong feelings about their smoothie-making appliances. It made me covet a new appliance but Tim has rightly suggested that I should wait until I have a proven commitment to smoothie-making.

I think I'll ask for a Nutribullet for Mothers' Day. Andrea and others rave about it and it is the cheapest of the lot. It's bound to be less labour intensive than what I'm currently doing (I have to keep removing the lid and stuffing the unblended bits down). Also, there probably shouldn't be a burning smell when I'm done blending.

I'd love to hear all your adventures and advice about smoothie making. Recipe advice would also be welcome, along with other suggestions (what do you use for protein, besides a side of steak?). Andrea shared a link to the Almost Raw Vegan, who has 50 recipes that look pretty good to me.

*I've just figured out that flax seed is a great source of protein. See how little I know?

Monday, March 04, 2013

i suspected as much

The headline reads, "Breast cancer among young women increasing" and cites a study conducted out of the Adolescent and Young Adult Oncology program at the Seattle Children's hospital.

I certainly know lots of young women with breast cancer (I worked with several of them but that's a whole other story). I also know and have known lots of younger women with advanced (or metastatic) cancer - which is really what this article from the Los Angeles Times is all about.

As Rebecca Johnson (herself a survivor of breast cancer at 27) and her co-authors concluded, "An increasing number of young women in the United States will present with metastatic breast cancer in an age group that already has the worst prognosis, no recommended routine screening practice, the least health insurance, and the most potential years of life." 

I'm certain this is also true of Canada. This would be someone mitigated by our health care system (where young women don't avoid trips to the doctor due to cost) - I'd love to see a similar study replicated here.

The article raises the question of what is causing this increase and, as is quite common, the issues of diet, exercise, birth control, late pregnancies - so called "lifestyle" issues - are cited as potential culprits. Why then do I know so many healthy, active, thin vegetarians who were diagnosed with very aggressive metastatic breast cancer?

If we really want answers, must more research needs to be done. And this research must include a cold, hard look at environmental factors contributing to cancer.

Think that will ever happen?

I, for one, am not holding my breath.

Saturday, March 02, 2013

musings on frivolity

"Sometimes we need to do something not because it’s good for us or because we ought to but because it’s fun. And because it will put a smile on our face and on the faces of people around us."

You can watch a great short video and read the rest of the post over at Frivolity.

Friday, February 22, 2013

it's all about fit

Yesterday, I met with a cancer coach at the survivorship centre

My stated goal was to improve my health and prognosis by eating well and exercising more consistently. I shouldn't have been surprised that I was matched with a nutritionist but I groaned inwardly when my coach filled me in on her background.

Two years ago, I met with a nutritionist weekly for nearly a year and I learned a few things but mostly I paid a lot of money to feel bad about myself. Someone else might have really liked the woman I worked with but I found her judgmental (for example, not only did she not drink alcohol, she could not understand anyone who did, even a little) and extreme (her idea of a treat was to have one square of very dark chocolate, once a week). Under her smug judgmental gaze, I felt like a complete failure. 

The implicit message was that if you can't do it all, you might as well not try (that may not have been her message but it was how I felt). I stopped seeing her, feeling that I'd accomplished very little.

The cancer coach I met with yesterday was very moderate in her approach. She actually said, "everything in moderation, including moderation."

I think I love her.

After she'd told me about the centre and the programs available to me, we talked about food and eating and self-care for more than an hour. I left with information and a feeling happy and good about myself.

I see her again in two weeks.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

a centre for "survivorship"

We're just back from a restorative week in Florida. It was truly wonderful to be with loved ones, play outside in the sun and dispense with all cold weather gear.

We arrived home at 2:30 in the morning to the snow and the cold. I'm sleep deprived and I don't wish to leave my house. But in a few short weeks, winter will be behind us and I can put my winter gear in storage (or just leave it out and in the way until I need it again). I feel very, very lucky to have escaped, even if I could use a nap this morning.

This afternoon, I have an appointment at Ottawa's "survivorship centre" with a "cancer coach". The place has been open for less than a year and offers a host of programs for people in treatment. I went to an orientation session a couple of weeks ago. I was impressed and inspired by what I saw there.

The Maplesoft Centre (the name bothers me for it's lack of descriptiveness and for other reasons, too. I started to explain and then realized I was writing so much in these parentheses, I need to save my comments for another post) is a beautiful building with a family room, sitting room for meetings, full kitchen and kitchenette, an exercise room, an infrared sauna and something called a Snoezelen room that really has to be seen to be believed. They offer a host of programs related to all aspects of physical and emotional health (nutrition, exercise are chief among them but I helped pilot the Arts for Wellness program last spring) . Some programs are drop-in and some are ongoing. All are free to cancer patients, after an initial session with a cancer coach, who helps to set goals. Participants can choose to meet with the coach twice more or simply to avail themselves of whatever programs and services appeal to them.

The centre staff are the first to admit they were initially afflicted by growing pains. I signed up while I was participating in the Arts for Wellness pilot, that was then taking place off-site. The following summer, I rode my bike to the centre and was put off by how deserted it was and the way the admin staff seemed to have no idea what to do with a visitor. I was definitely left with the impression that the place (which houses the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation) was there for fundraising and not really available to cancer patients.

I'm happy to admit that I was wrong. While I did fall through the cracks (I should have received a call after I joined, inviting me to an orientation and a meeting with a cancer coach), my experience appears to be an anomaly. The place I visited three weeks ago was a hive of activity, full of men and women of all ages. Even the lounge area, which they'd had to unlock on my earlier visit, was busy with people reading, working on their laptops or using the computer made available to members.

The centre still takes three times as long to reach by public transit than it would by car (but that's the City of Ottawa's fault) and it only has a handful of bike racks ( perhaps we can remedy that in the warmer months) but parking is free and there is a bus stop right outside the centre.  

I think the Maplesoft Centre needs to be doing better outreach to potential members. They also need a "how to get involved" tab on their website. As internet savvy as I am, I could not find anything explaining how to get involved. If the orientation and cancer coaching sessions are a requirement (and I can appreciate why they should be) then this information needs to be readily available to potential participants. I certainly would have been keener to make use of the centre if I had known this information.

My appointment is this afternoon. I'm looking forward to it. Watch this space to see how it goes.

Monday, February 11, 2013

i have a dent in the back of my head

Now that the swelling has gone down, I have come to realize that there is a sizeable dent in the back of my head. I'm not sure if it's visible but I can certainly feel it.like - a chunk of the back of my head was scooped out with a melon baller.

I find this both distressing and fascinating. I spend a lot of time feeling the dent and comparing the two sides. It's all I can do not to ask everyone, "Want to feel the back of my head?"

This is probably another good reason to grow my hair out. It's one thing to have a scar that goes from my nape to above my ear. The dented bit just adds to the impression that I might be related to Frankenstein's monster.

I feel pretty normal for someone who is missing a bit of her head. The missing piece can't have been to important. And seriously, if you know me in real life, it's totally OK to ask me about it. I'll even let you feel it.

Friday, February 08, 2013

Thursday, February 07, 2013

diddly squat (the good kind)

As I mentioned in my last post, I had an MRI last Sunday.

I have subsequently had a really trying week (changing appointment times, having to negotiate and fix many bureaucratic issues with staff who don't know me, treatment and two dentist visits, culminating in a spectacularly messy and traumatic root canal) but I've a phone call from my oncologist that put it all in perspective.

Dr. G: "Guess what your MRI showed?"

Me: "Well, you probably wouldn't have put it like that if it had showed anything bad...So...It didn't show anything?"

Dr. G (sounding jubilant): "Nothing! No active disease, no residual disease just the effects of surgery."

Me: "So my brain is like my liver now. It looks like it's been through the wars but otherwise it's just fine?"

Dr. G: "That's right!"

Me: "And that's it?"

Dr. G: "Yup! Otherwise, it shows diddly squat." ( I believe that's the technical medical term)

I feel far more relieved and happy about this than I did when I had the CT. Not that I take the situation with Herceptin for granted but I do know that it has worked for me for more than 6 years. My brain, on the other hand, remains unprotected. From now on, I'll be experiencing every clean MRI as a gift.

Life is good. 

Bring on the root canals.

Monday, February 04, 2013

almost there

I almost feel like myself again.

And it took surgery to remind that feeling like myself is not bad at all.

My head still hurts but I can live with that, knowing that it's likely temporary. I can't bring myself to get a hair cut (combing my hair really hurts), so I've decided that I'm growing it out. It looks pretty bad much of the time but I can live with that, too.

The best part is the return of my energy. I can do things again, around the house and out in the world. Last week I went swimming, to an exercise class at the Cancer Foundation, to two yoga classes (one restorative and one yin, so not too taxing) and I walked lots. That feels really good.

I'm also cooking more and taking my Weight Watchers membership seriously. 

I think it's all about exerting some control over the things I can.

As for the things I can't control, I'm trying not to think too much about that. I had an MRI yesterday morning (8:20 on a Sunday morning seems very humane when you're also offered 7:00am on a Saturday. And I have friends who've had MRIs during the wee hours). I don't know who will give me results (the surgeon who ordered the test is notoriously hard to get in to see), how I'll get them or when they'll be ready but I'm working hard at figuring that out.

The odds are that all is well and that I can forget again (or at least try) for another couple of months.