Category Archives: cancer community

The Artist Who Began to Paint Again

7 Mar

Once in a while things go right with this blog. Every now and then we (i.e. you and I) strike a chord that really resonates. Between us, the post starts humming so loudly, and with such familiar tones that the writing – the story telling – creates a change.

And sometimes, that resonance really surprises me.

I’d like to share one reader’s experience. She’s given me permission and has been so generous in sharing her work.  I’ll keep it simple. Here’s an excerpt of our exchange from the blog post “Writing the stories that don’t have an end” after I’d written about reconnecting with our passions/hobbies/joys . . .

Karen wrote:

“I am a painter, and I approach my work in exactly the way you do with writing – I never plan it. It’s the PROCESS that I am so in love with and I love every finished painting like my own child. I can’t even describe where I go and who I am when I am painting – probably it’s much the same as your writing.  But since my husband was dx’d with cancer in 2009, then me with BC in 2011, I haven’t picked up a brush. I keep promising myself, I’ll do it, I’ll do it…I’ve wondered what’s holding me back. I think it might be the fear that I might not be able to lose myself in total bliss like I used to. But Catherine, thanks to this incredible post of yours, I realize I can’t let fear hold me back. I’M GOING TO DO IT AND KICK CANCER’S BIG FAT ASS, enjoy the anticipation of setting up the easel and paints and just have at it.

girl, you da bomb! thank you so much – I can’t wait to tell my husband I’ve got my mojo back to paint – he’ll be soooo happy for me.

love, xoxo

karen, TC”

Catherine  (i.e. me) replied:

“Karen – your comment has me teary-eyed and so happy for you. Go and set up that easel, make your arm and your body start moving, and paint onto that canvas. No matter what the results, you’ll be tapping into something you love. And I bet the more you do this, the easier it will become to reconnect with getting lost in the project. Who knows, after all you’ve been through there maybe some big ideas waiting for expression.

Please let me know how it goes – here or in the forum or by message.

Good luck and happy painting!!! :) THANK YOU for your message.”

And then, several days later . . . Karen wrote:

“Dear Catherine,

I DID IT! I PAINTED, and I loved it and felt so into my old “zone” of blissful, exciting creativity, and I ADORE the painting. All the while I thought of how you gave me the encouragement and incentive to not allow cancer to take it away, and I thanked you in my heart for that now I wish I could show it to you, but haven’t a clue of how to do it. will have to snag my tech guy (son) to help me.

love and much gratitude, xoxo,

karen, TC”

And here is her painting. :) What amazes me – AMAZES ME – is that she was able to reconnect with a happiness that had been disconnected. Not only that, she’s willing to share with us the result of her work.

So to Karen, to Nancy, (who went back to work and decided to pick up the clarinet after having left it during treatment) and to anyone who has felt a disconnection from themselves – I wish you action, effort, persistence, and results that you love. Sometimes, even when it doesn’t feel natural anymore, we just need to start moving. The reconnection can happen. Karen’s wonderful story is a proof of that potential.

Thank you Karen! I’m totally honoured to share your vibrant painting and inspiring story!

Posted in cancer, cancer community, healing, life after cancer | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

Writing a Letter to my Past: Life Changes

4 Jan

(Starting Note: I’m listening to an Abba Album on repeat, swaying to Fernando!)

A while back – before the holiday spin overtook my brain with turkey, mashed potatoes and bottles of champagne, I received an interesting email from Kristi Harrison, founder of the “Life Changes Foundation” which is raising awareness after the diagnosis of Kristi’s friend, Katie Morris Kyser, who was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Krisiti’s concept of Life Changes is really interesting, particularly since ‘new normal’ and losing the person we were before diagnosis is often discussed online. The fact is, life changes – we cannot go back and for me, before engaging in Kristi’s project, ‘back there’ was a place of innocence lost and reality biting very hard. Okay, yes, I have SO MANY wonderful memories before being diagnosed that I cherish (for instance, the ‘how we met’ story with my husband that is excessively romantic and entirely over-shared). But if I cling to who I was before diagnosis, it makes me sad about who I became immediately after. I guess that’s because the experience held was more physically and emotionally painful than anything I’d ever dealt with in my life. And once felt you can’t go back, so I prefer to look forward and punch things out occasionally.

But then Kristi challenged me with the project she’s leading that focuses on writing letters to your 14-year-old self. She asked if I would get involved by writing a letter. (Hello, write about myself? Challenge accepted!)

What surprised me in writing the letter is that I still love the girl who was once 14. She doesn’t make me sad, even though her style choices are *ahem* regrettable. In fact, she makes me look forward to having a daughter. Isn’t that weird?  She doesn’t fill me with loss or a mourning sensation . . . I’m simply proud of her and know she’ll be okay despite anything and everything.  And if she’ll be okay, then maybe I’ll be okay too.

Perhaps ‘new normal’ is really just a point (a point that happens and again and again and again) on the continuum of life? And we’ll all be okay, despite whatever crap we encounter – even death. I have to have faith that whatever happens after is just what is meant to be, we’ll go back where we came from, and be whatever we were before. AH! I’m going too deep. No excessive philosophizing will be tolerated on a blog entitled “BumpyBOOBS“

(Okay, I turned off the Abba because those previous 2 paragraphs were deep, and I can’t do deep with Abba. However, I’m now turning it back on.)

So, if you are interesting in joining Kristi’s project, you can find her Facebook page right here: https://www.facebook.com/LifeChangesFoundation

Get in touch. See what happens.

And now the moment you’ve totally been waiting for (righhhht), the letter to my 14 year old self. Enjoy!

Click to read the letter at the Life Changes Foundation page! I laughed like an idiot while writing this.

Posted in breast cancer, cancer community, healing, life after cancer | Leave a comment

It’s Good to Laugh: Little Pink Book of (mostly) Cancer Cartoons

10 Dec

I’ve been a big fan of author and cartoonist Kate Matthews for some time now, following her hilarious posts on facebook and sharing them with the online Bumpyboobs and Facing Cancer Together communities – so when I saw she was offering up a free ebook for whoever could guess what was in this picture, I jumped on the opportunity.

Like, I literally jumped. I was all, “OH! OH!” and somersaulted to my personal Bumpyboobs facebook account to give my response. And, high-five everyone, it was totally correct.

That’s how I connected with Kate beyond just the Facebook fandom. She sent me a copy of her ebook, the Little Pink Book of (mostly) Cancer Cartoons and I had a hoot flipping through the e-pages and enjoying her witty take on breast cancer diagnosis, treatment, coping, relationships, LIFE, etc.

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She gets it, you know? She really gets it. From booby heaven, hair loss replacement options (i.e. silly string), things people say, mastectomy, lymphedema, pink suffocation, and trying to feel normal. She gets it and she made me laugh. What a beautiful combination.

But then Kate wrote me and offered to send along (in hardcopy – woohoo!) her other book, the Little Green Book of (Mostly) Happy Household Cartoons, with an ebook version to wet my appetite  – and I realized she doesn’t just get it, she really gets it.

It’s a pleasure to flip through the normal-day-and-life cartoons Kate has created alongside and after the breast cancer diagnosis. Life goes on, and yes we can be haunted by the circumstances, by NED wire walking, by the worry . . . but life moves forward and the little things become so wonderful. My life with Zsolt has me laughing daily, and Kate’s life reflected in her cartoons reminds me of those family moments, those lazy moments, those ridiculous moments (I’m thinking cockroaches here, though she just has spiders), that make each day so lovely.

And you know what the incredible thing is? Kate admits that before she started the cartoons, she couldn’t draw. Okay, so the women and men of the Little Books aren’t Disney-animation perfect, but they’re almost better for that lack of perfection. Life isn’t perfect, we are not perfect . . . but expressing your story despite all that is pretty darn awesome.

Anyhow, I just read her “Adam/Even and the apple full of antioxidants” comic and it got a burst of laughter. So, because I really believe in creativity and quality, and I love to support a fellow writer – if you are looking for a charming book this Christmas to stock a reader, tablet, hold in your hands, or just treat yourself – check out Kate Matthews. She’ll have you laughing through cancer (a freaking miracle suitable to the time of year), and she’ll have you laughing through real & wonderfully normal life.

Now if you’ll excuse me. I think I’ll go back to my reading . . . and my giggling. Happy holidays everyone!

P.S. I did get some free book bling, but I’ve been a fan of Kate for ages. She’s a great cartoonist! Oh, and she’s on facebook if you’d like to follow.

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Mirror Ball 2012 at the Royal York!

12 Nov

We are back in Ottawa after an awesome weekend in Toronto, celebrating Mirror Ball 2012 and Look Good Feel Better’s 20th anniversary. I feel 100% lucky to be connected to Facing Cancer Together, not only because I’ve lived its benefits firsthand, but because the people who pour their efforts into making this website, support programs, emotional cheer leading, warm-hearted community, yearly magazine, bloggers’ stories, and forum conversations all WORK (take a deep breath now if you are reading this aloud for some reason) are even more fabulous than this past weekend’s ball.

So yes, it was my honour to attend the CCTFA’s annual fundraiser gala for Look Good Feel Better and Facing Cancer Together.

I could write all about it, (Like how Dionne Warner gave a moving speech about moving through 8 cancer diagnoses with the love and support of her husband, Graham; and how Don (Riding Shotgun) in his dapper bow tie stood up before the entire audience and shared his story of how the Fc.ca support has touched his life, and thanked the room for their amazing contributions; or how the beautiful lady who once presented me with a 20th anniversary LGFB Movado watch during the Facing Cancer Together Award of Honour presentation (Take another deep breath!) came by my table toward the evening’s close and said she was a fan of Bumpyboobs! She even knew about the cockroaches! – Or how I stayed at a friend’s place for the weekend, and was charmed by a Toronto area called ‘Cabbagetown’.)

Instead of all that, I’ll direct you to the photo gallery on my Bumpyboobs Facebook page. The photographs speak for themselves, it was a wonderful event (please feel free to ‘like’ the page while you are there!)

Thank you again to everyone who contributes to making FacingCancer.ca and LGFB work, from the donors, the organizers, the volunteers, the women and those who love them gathering on the page to give and receive support, and the behind the scenes team – THANK YOU. You are all an important part of this community.

Posted in cancer community, facingcancer.ca, finding support | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

FacingCancer.ca at Shesconnected Toronto 2012 (and me too!)

20 Oct

Okay I’m just a little bit giddy this evening. It may be due to having been awake since 4.30 AM, but that normally results in my being more ‘zombie like’ rather than ‘totally stoked’.

This weekend I have the privilege of speaking on the Facing Cancer Together panel at the Shesconnected Toronto conference. This place is like my networking dream come true. Firstly it’s full of interesting and smart women. Secondly everyone GETS IT:  sometimes I go to local networking events in Ottawa, which are actually really excellent except that no one understands what social media is about. Blogs, twitter, facebook (and a million others) leave people stumped. So okay, that’s fine as in there’s no competition for social media in that group of successful women, but I do appreciate companies that appreciate what a blogger or social media person can do.  (It’s largely about relationship building and sharing stories – bringing that all back to the brand)

Anyhow. The train pulls into Toronto this morning around 10 AM after a four and a half hour ride from Ottawa. I attempted several sleeping poses on the train including the pretzel, the slouch, the sit back, the fist stack and your classic window lean. (I slept maybe 20 minutes, tops.) I boot it to the hotel with my luggage, drop my stuff, splash my face – and BAM! I’m down at the conference before you can say “YippiDoDah” six times backwards.

This conference is a mix of brands that love the social media or want to develop themselves in that line of marketing (blogging, tweeting, etc.ing) and bloggers who generally have an established, interactive and impressive audience.

[Bumpyboobs’ side note: my audience may not be huge, but you are all so very impressive – which is why I love to follow your stories too; you get me laughing, thinking and enjoying the good company.]

There are also new bloggers, and companies only just getting started with the social media. Basically it’s about learning and connecting with the women and the brands.

Right – five ”HadOdIppiys” later and I’m at the FacingCancer.ca booth greeting the awesome ladies of the Fc.ca, Look Good Feel Better and the CCTFA community. Everyone is in a perfectly lovely and happy mood, and there is no stress whatsoever about completely lost signage that is somewhere in Toronto with the delivery guy who failed to deliver. None whatsoever. ;) (But it did show up eventually, and oh my goodness our booth looks beautiful!)

I decide not to be super supportive, and instead drop my stuff and go walk around the conference. The conference was really cool; in the course of five minutes I’d hunted out a brand I was curious to meet – they are called Elephoto, and they are quite possibly going to feed into my photobooking /  photocalendering / photomugging / and  photokeychaining addiction in the future. They’re a Canadian company, so I can skip the over-the-border charges, plus they seem quite good quality. Anyhow, we’ll see how that goes. I have this weird love of printing – whether it be books (see my MA baby here), pictures, or business cards, and the sight and touch of high quality paper strikes me deep with satisfaction.

Weird, or what?  That’s like having a G-rated fetish.  If I can meet some Moo.com reps tomorrow, then my weekend will be complete.

But anyhow! Between the talks on social media, I did go back to the Facing Cancer Together booth to hang out, and cheer them on when the banners and goodies finally did arrive. And while standing there bloggers would come up and inevitably be ask if they had heard of the Look Good Feel Better program, and told about this new intitative of online support called FacingCancer.ca. Some ladies just take a pamphlet and say thanks. Others ladies stop for a moment, and if they stop, even for a moment, then you know they have story to share.

Every time I popped back to the booth, there was another woman letting us know how cancer has touched her life, or the lives of those she cares about. Every single time. Which only confirms how important it is to have these conversations, and share the message that support is out there – actually, it’s right here. . . and it’s available for everyone, even if ‘supports groups’ aren’t your thing.

Anyhow. Tomorrow is the panel at 4 pm where we’ll discuss online communities and finding support, plus why blogging is awesome for your well-being. It will be a day full of talks, and hopefully full of interactions and introductions.

It is such a good conference, and like I’ve said, I’m really so happy to be here.

Posted in cancer community, finding support, life after cancer | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Beyond the Sea: Our summer and our secrets

16 Sep

A little over a year ago, Zsolt and I arrived in Canada. It was a big deal. He immigrated, and we transferred all our items over to Canadian soil. Part of me knew living here would be a challenge, but honestly I thought that we’d gotten through the hard stuff already – and this (Canada, with my family) was simply going to work.

So it did, in a way, and it didn’t in others. Truth of the matter was it was an emotionally difficult year simply because we had a sense of failure – failure to make this grand home-coming as happy and life-changing as we’d hoped. We lived with my parents (and are still here, thanks to the patience of my Mom and Dad, though will be moving out come October) for just short of one year while Zsolt looked for work. When you’re 30 and married, really, living at home feels less than cool. With Zsolt not getting hired anywhere and our not progressing as I’d hoped (though my freelance writing started doing very well, and I’m so thankful for that! It was a bright spot) . . . it felt more and more like we were trudging through thickening, sticky molasses and were never going to move forward.

Of course, optimism is built into my DNA. And I would tell Zsolt in the evenings as we lay in bed and held our nightly conference of concerns: “It’s all going to work out. It always works out . . . eventually.”

Then one day while at a friend’s daughter’s birthday party, it was suggested that Zsolt look into a different field than research or academia; maybe he’d be a good fit for patents?

Patents: the reserving of rights for intellectual property . . . highly complex and technical ideas that need someone who can dissect concepts, research prior art and understand a novel design before writing these ideas up in legalize to be submitted for patent approval.

Hmm.

Yeah, Zsolt would be good at that. He’s a freaking Google wizard, and he’s also a research science with an advanced degree. Maybe, just maybe, for once, having a PhD wouldn’t be to his detriment.

OKAY! All this is leading somewhere. I just had to share it because this was happening for ages, and I could never directly write about it. It felt like crap holding back that struggle to find employment. But anyhow, I am going somewhere with all this. Hang with me . . .

He started applying to about 70 plus intellectual agency offices. AND – BAM – he caught a fish! Just one, but one is enough. He began acting as a consultant for an agency, and at one point they were even discussing hiring him on full time. An offer was about to be made for work to start in September.

So, back in June, we were so freaking excited about this that we went crazy. Literally, we went crazy. We booked a summer-long trip to Hungary, with a stop-over in Southampton to visit friends, followed by a boat cruise in the Queen Mary 2 to New York, where we’d hang with my cousin and then come up to Montreal by train to catch a bus that night back to Ottawa.

i.e. BIG TRIP.

Before you can say “maybeyoushouldsignacontractfirst” we had bought non-refundable boat tickets, train tickets, bus tickets and a one-way flight to Vienna (just beside Budapest). It was all ‘happy happy joy joy’ plus a bucket-load of relief.

And then one day Zsolt comes along and says to me: “I have bad news.”

“How bad is it?”

“Bad.”

“How bad?”

“Come read this email.”

The job opportunity had fallen through. Oh my god, how freaking crushing.

“Oh shit. That’s bad.”

Now, nothing thus far, and hopefully nothing in the future will ever be as bad as hearing the words “It’s cancerous.” Okay? But nevertheless, after a year of hoping, thinking you can see the light, and then spending money on a grand trip, it was deeply disappointing. But we went on our trip anyhow.

And so we went to Hungary – saw Zsolt’s wonderful family, ate amazing food (including possibly unwise amounts of pistachio gelato), visited with friends, laughed a lot . . . swam, sunbathed, rode trains. But all along that realization was in the back of our minds: “you’re starting from scratch when you return back to Ottawa.” We had developed a plan to move out no matter what, with my freelance stuff and some part-time jobs. I could work; the plan was a little bit comforting. A little bit.

And then we went to England: meet with friends for Mexican Food, had a picnic in a backyard, saw beautiful  babies, slept in an attic, walked in the New Forest, chilled at Tragoe . . . boarded the Queen Mary.

And then we sailed across the Atlantic. This was super cool. Okay, so I flew first class once between continents, and that was really nice. But this is a class unto itself. Beds made 2x a day with chocolates on the pillows (none of which we ate – I don’t know why); formal dining every evening; buffet with 24/7 access to tea and strawberries; big band playing in the evening as couples swirl around on the dance floor (we danced once to Beyond the Sea, which was our first dance at our wedding, but I’m such a garbage formal dancer that I couldn’t bring myself to dance any more. It was fun to watch, too.); a view of the ocean from our bedroom balcony that stretched out forever; dolphins in big groups swimming in from the distance then diving under the boat; whales flipping onto their backs; sunbathing on the upper deck and hot-tubbing at the back of the boat. Listen, if you’ve ever considered travelling between North America and England, and you’ve got at least a week to spare – this is the way to go.  Apart from one rough day, the weather was great and we had so much fun. It was totally restful, and I got loads of writing done too.

And then New York. Lord, that’s one big city. I think the highlight was two-fold: hanging out with my cousin, and meeting Anne Marie (of Chemobrain) for a cup of tea and some conversation. You can keep all your big buildings, impressive architecture and bridges for someone else; I like meeting people and spending a little time connecting. People are the best. Meeting Anne Marie in person was like seeing her in full-spectrum colour all of a sudden. Online friendships are great, but nothing beats the real-world exchanges.

And then back to Canada on the 12 hour train ride. Back to Ottawa. Back to . . . .

Oh wait, I forgot to tell you: Half way through the summer, toward the end of our time in Hungary, Zsolt was offered a job full time. Full time! And in the patent field, too. AMAZINGNESS! MIRACLES! Somehow, through the astounded state of shock, Zsolt gave an immediate ‘yes’ to the offer.

SO! Back to Ottawa. Back to . . .

. . . first day of work! Writing patents! Looking for apartments! Recovering old sofas so they get a new life! Shopping the ‘as is’ Ikea section for furniture! Putting down a rental deposit on a beautiful apartment! Getting involved in an awesome photography project! Taking a French test for a library position! Getting honoured by the CCTFA Foundation! And much more to come.

We’re doing things right this time around, and it only took a year to figure this out.

Whew. Big sigh of relief.

Stay tuned for coming adventures. (And in the meanwhile, I’m off to Pakenham for some more ice cream!!)

Posted in cancer community, healing, life after cancer | 6 Comments

A Preamble to a Post.

4 Sep

Earlier this summer I learned of a friend in the UK who had been diagnosed with bower cancer. Not nice in any way. She was already along with her treatments, and I only really learnt about her situation because my old boss informed me what was going on. She was having chemotherapy – she is having chemotherapy, even now, and I could picture here at the Southampton hospital in the chemo rooms, getting the drips of this or that.

You never, never, never want someone to get cancer, and in this specific case, I never imagined anyone so very wonderful and inspiring would get sick.

So I was like, what should I do? Well, I had her address passed along and decided to write a letter as well as send flowers. But what do you say to someone who you know is currently experience their own personal torment? Okay that sounds dramatic – but you know as well I do, that there are moments when life is so very low and chemo is a quick way to tap into that depression.

What do you write? What would I say?

But then I looked back to my own treatments when another friend wrote me letters from South Africa during his studies there, and how he described the beaches and the travelling – and how I’ll never forget my gratitude for his wonderful distractions that arrived in my mailbox.

All this to say, I wrote to my friend in the UK offering my thoughts for her well-being, lettering her know I was here if she needed something, and telling her about the amazing summer I had lined up; this wasn’t to brag about how awesome it is to be healthy, this was to distract from the treatment AND even more, to share with her life after cancer.

Therefore, I reckon it’s okay to do the same with this blog here at FacingCancer.ca, because I know many of you are struggling forward, reaching out for another day – fighting off depression, hunger, nausea, frustration, fear . . . I know it, but I also know that there are good days, and days that help us look forward to feeling ourselves again, or at least as much as possible.

So if you don’t mind, I’ll write later this week about my trip this summer. It was incredible, it ended incredibly, it was composed of really good news, really good friends, and really good food. (As I’ve already shared). But I’ve got to wait till the end of this week to really be able to give you the full story, and you’ll see why then.

Just wanted to write and say that I’ve not forgotten what it is to struggle with treatments, and cancer, and all the B.S. that goes along. But good days happen too. I dreamt of good days when I was at my lowest, and amazingly they have been able to materialize. Hope used to get me through the really hard stuff, and you know what – it still does today.

Soon to come, a happy post about happy things.

Whether you’re beyond treatment, just diagnosed, coping with the disease or somewhere in the process . . . it’s always worth looking forward to the good moments. Big or small, they’re entirely possible to have once again.

Right. I’ll get back to you soon, promise!

Catherine

Enjoyed the 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. :)

Posted in cancer, cancer community, healing, life after cancer | 2 Comments

Healthline Gives Me a High Five

18 Aug

This week I’m off on a fabulous adventure which I’ll share about later. It involves going back to England to visit with friends (emotional since I miss them all so much), travelling across the Atlantic in a giant boat (words cannot describe how cool this is) and exploring New York while staying with my cool fashion-making cousin in Brooklyn (Hello, Big Apple!). A lot of adventures, not a lot of internet access. But before disappearing, I’d very much like to share the news of having been cited by Healthline as one of their fav ‘breast cancer blogs’ of 2012. Obviously we’re surrounded by many amazing bloggers who have had breast cancer –  Katie, Alex and Terri just to name a few, and awesome bloggers who have had other connections to cancer whether diagnosed, supporting another or having lost a loved one – Sherry, Nicole, Don, Sandy . . . but nevertheless Healthline presents quite a thoughtful article reviewing the 23 of its chosen blogs listed, and I really appreciate the insight writer Tracy put into her reviews.

So please do check it out. :) What do you think? And who would you add to this list?

(Even more than being on this list, I think I appreciate the very kind words used to describe Bumpyboobs. If this is really the impression my writing gives then all I can say is, “Wow, how absolutely wonderful.”)

Posted in cancer community | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Lost on a train of thoughts – four confessions

11 Aug

We are on the train now headed toward Pecs and leaving Balaton. For the past four days Zsolt and I have been enjoying a little lakeside R&R. Before that it was sweating in Budapest and late-night dance parties. I’ll tell you what. If you want to take a break from the cancer world because sometimes it becomes too overwhelming, there’s little better than going out to dance. One – you are in a state to not feel embarrassed since you know life is precious, and Two- it’s just a freaking fabulous workout.

So that was Budapest. Hot-hot days and comfortable nights in outdoor clubs. And work, of course, which happily follows me wherever there’s an internet connection.

But following this time away in Budapest, I have three little confessions to make . . . actually four – the last being less of a confession and more of a statement.

Number one: I burned the crap out of Zsolt’s mother’s pot here in Balaton. For the past couple weeks I have been in the mood to make tomatoe sauce with meatballs, particularly following this TED talk I watched about foods that kill cancer (Yay! Following this sort of diet gives me some sense of control in my efforts to kill cancer and keep it dead. Do you find similar reassurance?) and – once again – was reminded that tomatoes warmed up are really great for an anti-cancer diet. Therefore I bought some liquid tomato and a can of chopped tomato while in Budapest and brought them down to Balaton. (No one in Budapest seemed to really want my tomato sauce and meatballs.  That’s because it’s just not part of a traditional Hungarian diet. However, Zsolt and I had some ‘alone time’ scheduled for the Balaton part of our travelling, so I deferred the cooking of the sauce until we arrived in Fonyod Ligit, which is a little village along the Balaton coast. And thank goodness I did.) Anyhow, I had the sauce cooking for a nice long time, made the meatballs in the frying pan then later transferred those into the sauce, and cooked everything together with delicious results.

So we’re eating this amazing sauce & meatball meal – and we’re (Zsolt and I) are like, “This is awesome. What’s that flavour? I don’t know what that flavour is? What did you put in it? I only put onions and basil and the meatballs. Maybe it’s from the meatballs? I did sear them pretty good, maybe it’s from the meatballs?”

Wrong. That awesome flavour was from the blackened bottom of that sauce pot. It took me two days to discover the burn and by then it was so set into the freaking pot that I’ve been trying to scrub it clean for the past day and a night. Sugar scrubbed into the dark ring has helped (using a newspaper) but not totally cleared away the mess. We had to catch this train, so I’ve stashed the pot in a far corner beneath the sink hoping that when his mother does discover the burnt patch remaining – because she 100% will discover it, and then she will ask: ‘Why did Catherine burn the pot?’ as though I had plotted to do this (and with the real answer being that I burn essentially every pot that I encounter while cooking)  . . . hopefully, by this time this happens, I’ll be well out of the country.

Not that she would get angry, but being asked ‘why’ I did something that I really couldn’t help is a pet-peeve of mine, and tends to send me into a sarcastic fit of annoyance  – replying with things like, “I burnt the pot because it was looking at me funny.” Or “I burnt the pot to add to the flavour” (apparently true in this case ) Or “I burnt the damn pot because I purposely wanted to damage it.”

Truth is, I’m just absent minded. Which brings me to the second confession.

Number Two – I lost my glasses! Bah. Gone! Poof. Where are they? If I knew that, they wouldn’t be lost. But one thing is for sure, they aren’t in my luggage and that’s all I’m taking away from Balaton right now as we head toward Pecs. Glasses equal gone. We’re about to visit all these awesome places, and I’m stuck with my prescription shades. But at least I have those – even if it means walking around the house, mall, and movie theatre like a hung-over starlet with these dramatic black sunglasses.

Number Three – I broke my father-in-law’s air mattress! Again, by the time he discovers this I am hoping to be out of the country.

Some people report chemo brain after having gone through chemotherapy – it’s a very real problem that seems to creep up and then simply not go away; your ability to remember things is greatly affected. If you want to learn more about chemo brain you should check out AnneMarie’s blog – aptly titled, “chemobrain” and just google search the term in general. I think this is one of the side effects they don’t necessarily warn you about (in addition to the one about chemo possibly killing your sex life) before you sign that waver and agree to the treatment course.

However, in my case, I can only blame it on genetics. Absentmindedness has been my middle name (a really long middle name) since I can remember.

So if you ever want to ask me why I dropped that tissue and didn’t pick it up, or why I left the light on, or why the front door is open a tiny bit . . . don’t bother, because I won’t tell you the real answer. Instead I’ll say aliens forced me to discard the tissue as an experiment in entropy, or the light turned itself on and we may have a poltergeist, or the wind knocked at the door but no one answered and so it let itself in.

Number Four – I really did have a lovely time in Balaton. The allergies weren’t horrible. The water was warm. I napped with my husband. We watched the Olympics. I did a little work. And the sunsets were beautiful. These little worries and expense-causing mistakes seem to follow me around everywhere . . . but nevertheless, I was quite absentmindedly happy to be on a mini-vacation, and forget, just for a little while, about the bigger worries of life.

P.S. I’m sipping on a pear-flavoured beer while riding this Hungarian train. Take that Canada! I’m drinking in public! Wooohooo! Life is just so crazy sometimes.  :)

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WoooHoo! Lives Affected by Cancer 2012 is here!

31 Jul

I’m breaking my ‘once a week’ rule for posting to mark this awesome occasion. Lives Affected by Cancer – a fabulous magazine featuring the stories of many incredible women and full of great tips for living well – is HERE!

WooooHOOO! Here’s a link to the e-magazine version.

It’s beautiful. Many hard-working elves created this magazine that will no doubt inspire many people to make it through, to carry on, to look forward to life beyond cancer. It’s from the wonderful people who bring you Look Good Feel Better in Canada, and Facing Cancer Together. (Which is why you’ll recognize many faces and stories as you flip through the pages).

Click the link and enjoy the reading! Hard copies soon to be available in your favourite women’s magazines in Canada.

And congratulations to everyone involved in producing such a beautiful piece of reading.

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