Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers

13 May

This ‘Mother’s Day’ weekend, I’ve been busy going here and there, cooking this and that. It’s been a thoroughly enjoyable time – so my post this week is rather short and sweet.

Today is Mother’s Day. Twenty nine years ago (almost thirty, actually), my mother went through a whole lotta pain and effort to get me here safely. Two years ago (almost), my mother went out of her way so I could recover from surgery and prepare for chemotherapy, visiting England for over a month and living in our tiny one bedroom apartment with me and my husband. There have been some uncomfortable times. But goodness knows she’s helped to keep me safe over and over.

For all the mothers, whatever your situation at this moment, I hope you’re surrounded by those who love you most – and just know that you have been an achor in their lives. Someone who gives care, even when exhausted . . . someone who makes time, even when so busy . . . someone who deserves love, even when you’re grumpy.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone.

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Life with Unexpected Toilet Troubles

6 May

Friday morning the toilet was running – that valve inside the tank wouldn’t lift all the way up, so it instead kept filling and draining continuously. This had been going on for a while. While the toilet reigns from Japan (where apparently, they do toilets very well), I suppose all good things come to an end. A repair was required.

So off my Dad goes to the hardware shop. He returns with a ‘one size fits all’ toilet valve thing. “I don’t think this will work” he asserts. “We’ve got a Toto, and I don’t think this will work.” But nevertheless he takes apart the Toto valve and tried to install the new part. It didn’t work.

So then he goes back to the store and instead of returning the generic ‘one size fits all’ valve, he instead picks up the Toto brand in addition to the generic he already has, and come back.

But then he needs a special sort of wrench, so run back to the shop.

He returns, ready to tackle the toilet. As he fixes the main hall Toto, he then decides to also refit another toilet (not a Toto) with the generic valve. And what follows is a journey of leaking pipes, second opinions, and nearly buying an entirely new toilets.

But he persevered, and about three hours later everything was running fine, all drips and leaks contained. (Whooohoo!)

Sometimes you think you’re dealing with a sticky valve, and wind up tackling an entire home renovation.  Which is kinda the journey we’ve taken ever since coming back to Canada.

The great news is that my freelance writing is going well, and Zsolt is doing some consulting for a patent agency. He thinks it’s an interesting field, so that’s very promising. Apparently it can take about 3-5 years to become a patent agent – but first you need to get hired as a trainee within a firm. (If you know any patent agency looking for a trainee to join their team, do let us know.) Consulting doesn’t count toward the patent agent exams, so far as I know, but it’s a step in the right direction in terms of experience.

Anyhow – I haven’t written very much on my blogs lately, largely because my mind has been all wrapped up and absorbed in ‘making it’ here. And like I said once before, I don’t generally write about a subject if it involves another person’s problem. Zsolt and I are a super-duper team, but that also means his problema are my problem, and my problems are his problem.

So the toilets need fixing, and it’s taking much longer than expected. However, I remain 100% optimistic that everything will turn out well. In the meantime we plan to move out very, very soon (to the relief of my parents, I’m sure) so that in itself will be a great adventure.

And of course there’s that oncologist appointment at the end of this month. I get these occasional pinging feelings in my breast that worry me, though I think they’re related to my cycle and hormones, but nevertheless I seem to be at my “pre-scan” stage where my worries begin to escalate. Dr Canada wants me to get a mammogram . . . I’d much rather have an ultra sound. We’ll see what happens.

And so we keep on keeping on. Life as of late seems full of transition. Transition is great and variety is fun, but my goodness, I’m hankering for some stationary living. Unpacking those boxes we’ve had stored in the basement, buying a welcome rug, feeling really truly within my own home. They’re coming. They are coming. It’s just taking a wee bit longer than expected.

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Tickle Torture and Why I’m Deciding to Relax

28 Apr

Sweet, sweet nothingness. After a week of full-steam ahead – I think it’s time for a break. Sure there are things to do, posts to write, chores to attend . . . but once in a while you’ve just got to say: Nope, I’m staying in bed. (Or in my case, I’m getting back in bed).

The other day Zsolt sent me an article about the importance of exercise and eating well. You’ve all seen these articles. Every few months new research shows – surprise! Exercise, vegetables, fish and grains are healthy. It’s not as though I wasn’t aware of all these things before he forwarded the article, but it was nevertheless a nice reminder. This past month has been quite busy with my days scheduled in full, and for some reason exercise consistently gets moved to the back of the priority list.

So we have been walking, and until it gets warmer I guess that will be it. However walking doesn’t really build a sweat so in the back of my mind there is this tickle: exercise more.

And then there’s the work. Last year we upped and moved from England to Canada which mean everything dove into a tailspin. My work mostly comprised of cleaning the house and making meals. Plus, of course, the writing of lovely stories. However we’re adults living in my parent’s house and this has ceased to be cool. (Not that it ever was, but it certainly was convenient). Therefore, as Zsolt hunts for a job in the land of science,  my goal has become: get us out of the house. And bit by bit I’ve picked up freelancing opportunities that will, soon, shortly, enable us to MOVE OUT.

Yay!

So as I lay here in bed I’m totally stoked, and yet, I’m also flat out in need of a nap. This whole ‘work for yourself’ thing is new, and I’m still learning boundaries. And in the back of my mind there’s this little tickle: make more money.

Plus, of course, a well-rounded woman these days is meant to pursue her passion. While blogging is a pleasure, writing fiction is a passion. And yet, because passion can often translate into ‘luxury’ and therefore be saved for only the best of times (i.e. the quietest), I’ve pushed aside all writing activity along with the exercise in favour of other obligations.

But there’s that little tickle: Keep on writing.

And since I’m onto tickles, there’s the relationships tickle: Give time to your husband.

Plus the friend tickle: Make time for your friends.

Along with the family tickle: Spend time with your parents.

Soon enough I’m going to hyperventilate with all this ridiculous tickling. I mean, at what point does tickling cross over into torture? Were there men in black hoods during medieval times who held giant feathers and tickled their victims to death?

This is my proposal: Take a freaking break from worrying about all these obligations and ‘to do’s, and instead, lay in bed and watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer while sipping tea and eventually taking a nap.

Just for today – no more tickling. Just for today, I’ve got to cut some slack. And I suggest you do the same. (If you don’t already count reading this blog post as a mini-vacation from the world . . . hey, some people just might!) Forget the obligations, the should-do, the ‘I feel guilty cause I’m not’ . . . and just enjoy as much as possible, even if only for a minute.

Now please excuse me, Buffy is waiting.

The end. :) For today.

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Getting fertility results: our journey continues . . .

20 Apr

Last Monday was our appointment with the fertility doctor. I’ve already had the scans and blood tests, so this meeting was to review the results. Now just about a year ago, I received my AMH results by phone and the news was essentially devastating – so driving to this appointment yesterday, my nerves were on high alert.

All these scenarios were running through my mind as I moved light to light to light across Ottawa.  Zsolt all the while was assuring me everything was fine, and I should calm down. I told him, “I know everything is fine,” but that nevertheless I couldn’t calm down.

Your mind can say one thing, but your body may say another. The anxiety felt like a thickness inside me.

We drive up, we park, we go in. . . we’re directed to a side waiting room and it gives flashbacks of the Southampton Princess Anne Hospital where all the baby-related cases are ushered to these tiny waiting rooms where people generally sit for an hour flipping through year-old magazines of Elle, Seventeen and Cosmo. Oh yeah, that’s also where they put the ladies who have cancer, right before breaking the news. So these stupid memories are clearly doing little for my composure.

However, Zsolt starts talking to me about his family and shopping for televisions, and in listening to his description of this debate between 3D television or 46 inch screens, somehow I’m calmed down. That’s husband-power right there.

The doctor calls us in, we go in. Her office is bright and comfortable. She has a computer that I’d love to own (those big screens on the desk).

And she basically dives in. It’s not so bad.  While my AMH test was abysmally low – other tests give reason to hope. My progesterone is tickity-boo;  my follicle count is low, but a high type of low;  some hormone is a bit higher than it should be (the hormone that tells the eggs to release, which causes ovulation), however not too high . . .

Essentially, yeah, my fertility has taken a hit. My eggs are low. I’m not where the average 30 year old woman would be in terms of baby-making goodies.

However, it’s not bad.

She says, “you’re nowhere near menopause.” And that is totally awesome, because I’ve had enough of hot flashes and anxiety attacks for a while.

But she cannot say how my fertility will be in a year, or two years, or five years . . . which is why I’m thinking of trying to extract some eggs sooner, and then actually have a baby later. However we’ll see. Before you’re allowed to do anything, they need to get permission from your oncologist – which kinda frustrates me simply because I hate people telling me what to do. Suggesting what to do is fine. But telling me? No. No. No. However, Dr Canada is excellent and understanding. If I keep an open mind to his suggestions, I’m sure he’ll keep an open mind to mine as well.

And that’s my baby story. Not too much to say. Zsolt is ship-shape. My uterus is looking lovely. And apart from all of this, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Hmm, that’s a concept that never seems to lose relevance. Wait and See. See and Wait. Wait See.

End of story. :)

Can you relate to this post? Well, maybe you could relate to these too – fumble along with me at bumpyboobs.wordpress.com, or even better, say hello on Twitter or hang out on Facebook for some like-minded fun. :)

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Where do you draw your line? Getting honest online.

14 Apr

It’s a funny thing to write a blog – particularly a blog that contains your real name and discusses real circumstances. It’s tricky because firstly, who is reading your public memoir? Secondly, should you be spilling your guts to this virtual world? And thirdly, at what point do you draw the line in terms of sharing information?

Actually, these are great questions for being online in general. When you go onto Facebook – do you post updates on hair re-growth, have you switched your status to: “cancer fighter?”  What about on this forum – should you post a picture or use your real name?

This week Riding Shot Gun and Both Sides posted some frank writing about hard topics – and I know they held reservations about being so open with their readers. As Riding Shot Gun questioned, how wide should we open the kimono?

Well in my case, I’ve opened my kimono pretty darn tootin’ wide. But there’s a reason for that, and it’s largely about you.

(And partially because I can’t keep my virtual mouth shut)

This is how I see things: we go online because there are times when we need to shout our feelings, and that calls for a different sort of support. It’s not anyone’s fault. Despite loving us, sometimes others can’t cope or simply haven’t walked in these specific shoes of life (thank goodness). So we come here to places like FacingCancer.ca to vent and ask questions from people who have worn the same shoes.

Also, when it comes to venting and asking questions, the beauty of being online is that you can read quietly, you can register a false name or, alternatively, you can post a photo of your beautiful self and forget the alias. Either way, you get supported. Isn’t that kinda liberating?

And then – for me – one of the biggest reasons I’ve discussed topics like sexuality, loss of loved ones, and fertiliy struggles with this online community (plus so much more) is because you are real, and we all really experiencing these issues.  Doesn’t matter if you lurk, doesn’t matter if your username is ‘hotpotatoe65’, doesn’t matter  . . . because you are a real person, and you’re here because we’re all dealing with a very real problem.

So when you go on the forum and write that hard question that’s almost too painful to admit beyond your own head (and that warm, inviting keyboard), or you post an article that almost crosses the line in terms of its honesty toward the emotions and difficulties of the situations . . .

. . . and you’re quite ready to delete the post or erase the message. Just take a moment to remember that beyond the usernames we’re people who have been there, worn the same shoes, and have the greatest compassion toward your story.

That’s what I tell myself before hitting the ‘publish’ button on my rawest of posts.

We all have our line in the sand. Mine generally involves not divulging too much information that involves other people’s problems (even if they are mixed with mine, with the exception of the sexuality post).

As someone who looks online for community (and you must be, otherwise how did you come to read this post?) – what’s your line in the sand? And have you ever told a hard story online, only to realize that soooo many people relate?

This post is terribly reflective. But it’s been on my mind, and now it’s out I can get on with my day. Speaking of which, it’s Friday the 13th here and I’m at a B&B named Kirkman House in Arnprior, Ontario – it was built before 1900 by the local lumber baron, and this room is totally gorgeous!  If you live in Ottawa (though I realize readers are worldwide) – get yourself to Arnprior. You can eat Wes’ chips by the waterfront, rent a canoe, enjoy a truck stop breakfast, and take a walk in an old growth forest.

Lovely bunch of loveliness.

And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll depart. My husband just arrived back home yesterday, and we have some work to catch up on . . .

Posted in cancer, facingcancer.ca, finding support, healing, life after cancer | Tagged , , , , | 9 Comments

Blame it on the BRAIN FOG

6 Apr

Funny story, yesterday my father lost the car keys. So I’m in the kitchen minding my business (mixing brownies, boiling eggs and prepping some curry) as he runs around the house huffing and puffing over ‘where the heck are the keys’.

And I think to myself, Should I help him? And I answer myself, “Don’t worry about it.” Because I know 100% that they will turn up. Key always turn up, hardly anything ever gets lost, and ‘misplaced’ is not a reason to stop what I’m doing.

Except my Dad feels differently, and he’s pulling up the bed sheets and remaking the bed; he’s going through the newspapers and shaking them for that ‘jingle’ sound; he’s going back to the car and retracing his steps; he’s checking the kitchen (and I am mostly ignoring him, except for suggesting he leave it alone for a while so the memory can float up in his brain) and having no luck.

So I slip into my little pre-Easter world. There’s loads to do, plus I have all kinds of side work I ought to be focusing more on . . . this whole ‘multi-tasking without over loading’ thing is posing a bit of a challenge. I have work to do. I do it. But then sometimes I can’t calm down, and photo booking isn’t always the answer.

Today I had to walk away from my computer because it was making this ‘whirring’ sound so loudly I thought it might crash. Crashing computers suck. So do crashing brains (like my brain last Tuesday after two meetings and a nerve-wracking viewing of the Hunger Games, which was good, but not exactly the post-exertion cool down I should have followed.), which means this upcoming Easter weekend in general is going to be awesome. Family, food, and chocolate – hello, heaven on earth!

But thank goodness for the weekend . . . and yet there’s still so much to do . . . and the brownies aren’t looking their best because I overcooked them by about five minutes. . . but the curry looks divine.

“ARE THESE THE KEYS?” my dad declares, heading into the kitchen and waving them around.

“Yep,” I reply, still lost in my world and trying to be Zen with my food.

“They were in your coat pocket!” he tells me

(Now he wasn’t furious or anything like that, actually he was relatively cool headed considering he’d spend a good deal of time thinking he’d gone crazy, searching the house and getting nowhere.)

And all I can say is:  “Hun?” Because I didn’t drive the car today, and I sure can’t remember picking up those keys.

But there you have it – totally my fault. Apparently I’m the one with too much on my mind and absent-mindedly picking things up and placing them elsewhere. But like the title says, we could just blame it all on the brain-fog, except that it’ one year post chemotherapy, and I believe that chemo-brain is meant to have worn off. (Though I know others who would certainly argue othewise.)

Once I put a container of milk in the cupboard with the dishes, but I was distracted by a boy so maybe that’s okay.

So Dad, I apologize. You are not crazy. I’m crazy. Poor man was put through the ringer and all along I was totally nonchalant, and all along it was totally my fault.

But at least the curry is delicious. And he seems pretty happy eating it right now, so I guess all is forgiven.

Moral of this story . . . Sometimes it’s better just to stop and help others, despite being wrapped in ourselves . . . next time he loses his keys (and he will – and it will not be my fault), I’ll help discover where they were mislaid. It’s basically the least I can do!

Happy Easter!!

Can you relate to this post? Well, maybe you could relate to these too – fumble along with me at bumpyboobs.wordpress.com, or even better, say hello on Twitter or hang out on Facebook for some like-minded fun. :)

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Tax returns gone wild! (i.e. I haven’t got a clue)

30 Mar

This week has been a head-spinner. It’s been a week where I’ve had to remind myself the golden lesson that cancer has the instant ability to teach: just lay off the stress, girl.  Relax, sister. Of course it took me a while to remember this valuable lesson, since I was head-deep in my ‘what the frack’ mode .  . . but practise makes perfect, and eventually I gave up my load. You know what that’s like? Sometimes stepping away from a problem feels like an impossible option . . .  so then how do you make the impossible possible?

In the meanwhile, great things have been happening. Over the past couple weeks I’ve had a photo shooting adventure, finished my eighth out of nine stories for my lovely creative project, blogged for this great start-up company (and wrote the posts well, if I can say so myself), and largely became used to being alone. In fact, I started relishing my walks to the cafe. Alone Catherine is a productive Catherine.

But!

Then I tried to do my taxes, again, and my head spun off into the atmosphere. You see, last year I earned a modest amount of freelancing income. Yay! But at the same time . . . how the heck do I prepare my taxes as a ‘small business –other’?  Apart from the wonderful discovery that expenses equal deductions (cue me combing my past visa bill and sourcing receipts online. Oh my goodness, did I really spend that much on my writing . . .yes, apparently I did), this tax season has my brain sizzling with anxiety.

Zsolt and I were in disagreement over getting an accountant. He wanted to save the money, I wanted to save the headache – but when push came to shove, and my meltdown alarms were ringing with the complications of my situation, we found ourselves a compromise (with the guidance of my parents, and considering the money saved from all those expenses I dug up). I guess we all move beyond times when we cannot find solutions, it’s just that limbo between problem and answer that gets me all stressed and stupid.

Whew.

But you know what? Even after agreeing on a compromise, the stress was still resonating through me! Like after-effects of an earthquake – my mental health was having after quakes: nerves and emotions totally unstable.

Which is when I remembered the blog post I’d written not so long ago, and thought, “yes, what a good idea,” and decided to do something to counteract that stress. Basically, I returned not to my writing (though this is lovely) and not to my conversations, but opened my Bonusprint program and began picking through pictures of our Greece vacation, making a photo book for the company to print.

Ah, the loveliness of creativity coupled with happy memories. And as I indulged in something that made me feel good – a creative project that had nothing to do with taxes, work, or obligation (and yet wasn’t television, cause while that’s entertaining it doesn’t change my mood) I began to feel more and more like myself.

I have a two-for-one deal with the Bonusprint people, so today I’m going to make a second photo book: the summer of 2011. It was a pretty freaking glorious summer, even if the winter involved a lot of catching up . . . and so why not? Right?

Sometimes when you’ve dipped your head in the pool of stress, and even after you’ve found a solution  to that problem . . . sometimes you still need to recover yourself. Heck, we all know about that! Having gone through treatment, there’s still tons of healing required.

So there you go, photo-booking and it feels soooo good.

P.S. The above beautiful photo was shared by Jason Kang on Totem Brand Stories‘ facebook wall, and was snapped by the talented Donna Griffith at last week’s Lives Affected by Cancer shoot. This was before the return of winter, where Chantal and I look optomistic in our spring dresses!

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Photoshooting for Lives Affected by Cancer

22 Mar

Okay, I’m here at my cafe and ready to write. The weather outside is bizarrely fine considering it’s still March, and I’m dressed in an outfit that my husband would 100% hate (I look like a neon pink hippie). So, the time has come to relive yesterday in the written form, and it involves owl eyes, bright yellow dresses, and throwing flowers in the air.

Doesn’t that sounds quite idyllic. Actually it was a photo shoot in Toronto (not exactly idyllic, but still good fun) for the Look Good Feel Better 20th anniversary magazine, Lives Affected by Cancer. As mentioned, I’ve written an article for the issue that dips into the impact of cancer and treatment on a couple’s love life, which is huge, freaking huge, and ripples out into everything, then ripples back in upon itself . . . like some freaking never ending cycle of crabbiness and – !!!! A man in the cafe just unleashed a hurricane from his mouth – Where was I? Oh, it’s a difficult situation that hardly ever gets discussed. So we’re discussing it.

And it’s a tricky concept to photograph as well. But wisely the art direction choose to work with the idea of flowers and lightness – and hey, how brilliant? While sex is SEX (Wohoo!), it’s also sweetness, gentleness and romance. Flowers are very appropriate.

So yesterday morning I go up way too early and joined the art director (I so want to say his name, but lately I’m not really sure if I’m able. Am I able?) as we took a cab across Toronto and arrived at the studio. We initially arrived at the wrong studio, a few buildings down and only realized this upon knocking on the wrong apartment door, which sheds some light on how tired we felt.

But eventually we made it.

Unlike the first photo shoot for Glow, this place had a completely different vibe. Firstly, it was empty except for the photographer and her assistant. Secondly, it was a huge space. Big windows and 30 foot ceilings, white painted everything and pillars so large I couldn’t wrap my arms around them. Why, why, why don’t they make these buildings anymore? It was magnificent.

People began to trickle in. And in. And in. Seems to me these photo shoots are highly complex – not to mention the editing and planning of a magazine. The magazine designer was explaining how much work went into the project, and it sounds nearly endless. No wonder every little job needs to be considered, and it’s incredible to watch them integrate their roles like clockwork.

So we stared with makeup and a lovely man helped me look natural, fresh and beautiful. He took the curlers to my lashes and gave them a good pinching (during which I was frozen – mannequin like), then added mascara and a tiny bit of shadow at the edges of my eyes. Sexy! Yet sweet. Way more make emphasis than I’d ever dare to use, but the result was striking.

And then came the dress. Think of something from the 1960s that a woman would wear to lunch out with the girls . . . think lemon drops and traces of white flowers . . . think about Jackie Onassis and Audrey Hepburn. That was my dress.  (It was too large so they clipped it at the back, and I wore my hiking socks since they weren’t photographing my full body. Ridiculous yet comfortable.) The makeup artist (and he was certainly an artist) touched up my lips with a bit of pink that popped against the yellow.

And then the shooting began. Goodness me. I am NOT a model – it makes me wonder, why is it easy to look interesting and friendly in front of the mirror at home, but when people are watching and the camera pops, and someone says “Happy! Be happy” . . . why is it suddenly so darn awkward?

But I did my best. The previous Glow shoot photographer had me saying, “Ha ha ha!” so I tried it here : “Ha ha ha!” And then other people started saying “Ha ha ha!” along with me . . . we were all standing there saying, “Ha ha ha!” and it was quite surreal.

Ha-ha-ha.

Surreal, but fun. The makeup artist came over and fixed my hair constantly, thank goodness for that because often times he’d give me little tips on how to move or what to do with my legs which was really helpful.

Along the theme of flowers, I threw petals into the air, picked at a bouquet, and smelled the chrysanthemums. It was all very light and fun. Really fun, despite my nerves.

And then there was the video. Talk about uncomfortable! You see, during the shoot not everyone came round to watch – just the photographer, the prop stylist, the clothing stylist, the assistant, the makeup artist and the designer. There were a ton of other people hanging around too. But with the video EVERYONE had to watch.

Basically this video is going to be shown around the web and at events. It’s about Look Good Feel Better and Facing Cancer Together – my particular bit was mostly about blogging and the online community. (Hello community!)

Therefore, the light switches were flipped off and spot lights were turned onto my face (“Good lighting” assured the makeup artist, which somehow made me feel comforted – not that lighting worries had ever entered my mind . . . but nevertheless, I felt better.) and everyone had to be quiet. No mobiles. No moving. No talking. No light (except for the spotlight.)

So basically it was impossible to not watch the filming. However, while the idea intimidated me, the actual execution was alright. When bright lights get shot into your eyes, the watching crowd disappears.  Hopefully I was coherent – sometimes I’d use the wrong word and catch myself about ten seconds later, way after the sentence had passed by and couldn’t be corrected. But whatever. It was the real, second-guessing, me, and I reckon that translates okay onto film. (Or at least, I hope!)

The truly remarkable thing about this photo shoot was how smoothly it ran. With so many people criss-crossing one another, and so many aspects of the production collected in one room – it’s a miracle of good planning and professionalism that the project ran so smoothly. I’m truly impressed with each person in that room and the role they played.

Despite being nervous – totally nervous – about getting my photo taken . . . it was great to be in such a capable crowd, and supported 100% by their kindness and vision for this magazine. The upcoming issue of Lives Affected by Cancer will be hitting stands (as an insert in fashion magazines – how exciting) come next August. Judging by the way things went yesterday, it’s going to be an outstanding issue.

Sometimes you get lucky, eh, and get to be part of something great. Yesterday was something great, and I know Look Good Feel Better and Facing Cancer Together are programs that certainly deserve greatness.

So keep an eye on those newsstands. But don’t let this weather trick you, it’s not August yet.

P.S. I met Michael Carrera – blogger at Facing Cancer Together and personal trainer extraordinaire. But you know what, I’ll write more about that later, because I feel quite strongly about the usefulness of getting a physical trainer post chemotherapy, and it deserves a separate post.

Posted in cancer, cancer treatment, chemotherapy, facingcancer.ca, finding support, healing, life after cancer | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Murale and the make-up counter

16 Mar

I don’t know if you ever feel this way, but after having gone through a year of heavy-toxicity treatments (chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and junk-food comforts), I’ve been trying to become more aware of the ingredients used in my ‘daily routine’ products. So when it comes to soap, deodorant, shampoo, and make-up . . . nowadays, as I think is a growing trend with many people, I am more aware about what’s inside those lovely tubs of sweet-smelling bliss and blemish removing miracle creams.

And today, while visiting the Murale in downtown Ottawa, I was able to address some of my personal concerns with the make-up aesthetician and take her advice on brands to consider.

So my good friend (Let’s call her Dee) and I walk into this large open-space shop . . . and it’s all rather overwhelming. The number of high brand cosmetics is impressive, but where do you start? It’s not like I want to pick through each product and analyze the ingredients since that’ll take forever. My patience in terms of shopping has a very short fuse.

But here she comes: the aesthetician with black blue hair and wicked-awesome horn rimmed glasses, asking as my friend and I near the first large counter with mirrors and tissues, “Am I able to help you ladies?” Since I had an idea of what needed refreshing in my make-up arsenal (i.e. what I use most often, and therefore really need those products to be kind to my skin and sensitivities), I replied, “Yes, I’m looking for brands that avoid harsh-chemicals, scents, hormones, etc.”

And quick as whip, she took me to the products.

“I’m looking for a concealer”

“Try this.”  We test it under my eyes and find the matching colour.

“I’m looking for a moisturizer.”

“Try this.” She takes me across the store, to this Juice Beauty line, and lets me sample a  thick moisturizer that I look forward to slathering all over my thirsty face.

“I’m looking for a grape-water misty thing.”

“Oh, you mean this?” Apparently the makers of this brand were once wine people, but then they got creative with the left-overs of the wine-making products  . . . and here’s a basic spay to help refreshing the face.

Dee, my aforementioned good friend, leans over to me and says, “She is so good.” And then, when the punk-style aesthetician turns to Dee and helps her find an eye shadow for what the aesthetician identifies as her green eyes . . . well, Dee just thought the woman was fantastic. “I knew my eyes were green. I’m so glad she spotted that.”

And she was fantastic. Normally shopping for makeup is a overwhelming.  I’m a bit of tomboy – simply because I grew up with two brothers and no sisters, and girly things can confuse me.  But here was a lady taking me brand to brand (as opposed to just going up to one product counter and learning only of those options) and helping me find make-up that I can wear without hesitation.

Do you ever avoid make-up because of the ingredients? Well, if you’re like me, give this a consideration: Products are developing, and while they won’t soon be as pure as butter mixed with turmeric . . . I think women like us, women who worry, are being given more choices.

The only thing is, you’ve first got to stick in your head and ask what’s available.

So today I was able to use my wonderful Murale gift card, a generous Christmas present from the great team here at Facing Cancer Together, for an experience that went far more easily than I imagined possible.

For two chicks who don’t dig make-up counters, Dee and I actually had quite a good time visiting Murale. I like the collection of products, I really like the assistance – and even more, I LOVED what I walked away with.

Plus, it’s nice not worry. So nice. And, I do feel pretty with a spot of makeup.

Posted in cancer, facingcancer.ca, health, life after cancer | 3 Comments

Reach for those healing moments

10 Mar

The freeze frame moments – moments so good, so wholly, purely, simply good, you’d like to stick a pin in them and keep ‘em forever. Those are the moments I try to remember; sitting here, laying there, holding my dog when she was a puppy, celebrating the publication of an article, cuddling up to my husband, walking through a warm sun shower, meeting up with friends, feeling good just because . . . those are the freeze frame moments I’m sure everyone can relate to.

Dr Alexandra Ginty tweeted me, Katie and Terri this week about a freeze frame moment, saying she was enjoying a beautiful wine while at the cottage. And I thought, “what a fantastic expression, ‘freeze frame’.”

The only problem with trying to remember those moments as vivid recollections is that so often the mind moves on, the goodness  slips away, and while we might want to re-submerge ourselves into ‘that time when everything was wonderful’ it instead becomes a shadow of the past.

During treatment I longed for those memories to feel real. After my third or fourth treatment of the ‘really intense’ chemotherapy (with over ten more sessions to go), as determination began to subside to exhaustion, more often than not I found myself dreaming of better times. Better times in the past, and better times to come.

Maybe you are right there, right now, fighting through the shock, the physical changes, the strangeness of seeing a different person in the mirror (you, but not you) . . . and all around life goes on, and you go on too. Sometimes you have the strength and find those moments of goodness, other times (quiet times, when hardly anyone is looking) you break down and just wish – wish so hard – that you could return to one of those freeze frame moments.

I think everyone remembers differently, but whenever I was longing for a bit of goodness, here’s what helped me. Maybe it could help you too? And really, I think this is applicable far beyond a cancer treatment. Anyone can call upon their favourite moments to help alleviate a down moment.

  • Write it down. When things are good, write them down. Describe how it felt. Tell yourself a story in that moment so when you read it over later (years later, days later) those emotions can be regained.
  • Draw a picture. Just doodle it on a piece of paper – doesn’t have to be good, and you don’t need to show it to anyone. Drawing taps into a different sort of memory, and coupling that with the movement of your hand and texture of the page, it becomes in itself a wholly, purely, simply good freeze frame moment.
  • Tell a story. This is what you do when out for tea with friends, or lying in bed, or having someone who loves you rub your feet: tell them the memory that’s floating through your mind. Don’t worry about it making sense or sounding eloquent – just tell them about that time you laughed till you cried, or felt totally happy and the world was just perfect.
  • Look at pictures. There’s a great way to trigger lost memories. Have a photo book on hand and flip through, taking time to enjoy the memories that you had forgotten. Zsolt and I print out photo books after our adventures; it’s a fantastic way to make sure the good times never fade.
  • Make a plan! This is a BIG deal, and basically one that will carry you out of that slump. Make a plan to go somewhere you love, do something you love . . . even if you are in the  middle of treatment, make a plan. Whether or not your follow through might depend upon your determination and energy levels, but don’t give up if it’s at all possible. Heck, I dreamed of going home for Christmas despite chemo, setbacks, and the general opinion of its impossibility. And guess what? It happened. And honestly, being at home was one of the most healing times during my entire journey through treatment. So if you remember being happy by the lake, or with some friends, or whatever, make a plan – believe in that plan.

Happiness is a huge bit of ‘awesome’ in life, and goodness knows it can be challenged and withheld at times. During my chemotherapy (and a little bit afterwards too) I experienced depression for the first time in my life. Thank God that passed, but I cannot forget what a sluggish, discouraging, deep situation it threw me into. . . and during those times, all I could do was remember those freeze frame moments. Since those times, since coming through treatment and trying to regain my life – I’ve lived those wonderful experiences, and plan on living a whole lot more.

(This is also a great way to establish what matters most in your life, don’t you think?)

What were your freeze frame moments that helped when things were discouraging? Is there a particular feeling,value or memory you like to recall?

Anyhow, there’s my list of ways to recall the good times. If you yourself have any ideas, please share them in the comments section. My list was quite ‘Catherine’ centric (i.e. focused on what I love) and you may have a way to remember that’s completely your own – do share. If nothing else, I’d just love to hear all the different ways people enjoy themselves.

Until later! Catherine

P.S. If you want to come hang out on Twitter there’s plenty of room :) You can find my Twitter home here or Facebook home here. Come enjoy a little bit of conversation and fun.

Posted in cancer, cancer treatment, chemotherapy, finding support, healing, life after cancer | Leave a comment