Thursday 28 May 2015

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars - Kahlil Gibran

April 30, 2015

Well, if I thought deciding to write a list of 100 things to celebrate would suddenly make everything all good, I was sorely mistaken. 

There was a last minute opening to see Dr Taylor and the psychologist at BCSCF a few days later so I took it. I went in ready to fill them in on all that was going on with me physically and emotionally - not thinking this appointment would be any different than my other appointments. 

I guess that's why I got blindsided.

It started out like any other appointment. I told them how I was still having a hard time. That my anxiety of recurrence was like a 24hr channel that just keeps playing. All day. All night. I told them how at my first doctor's appointment, my first follow up appointment, how I cried when we got to the part of the physical exam. The doctor hadn't even laid hands on me and the tears started and wouldn't stop. I was terrified.

Terrified she'd find something....bad.

I told them how stressful the echo cardio MRI was a few days later, which was being done a year post chemo to see if any damage had been done to my heart.

My heart.

I managed not to cry at that appointment, but any illusions that chemo might not have been so bad to my body were suddenly gone.

Then I filled them in on the panic attacks that started the two weeks or so prior to this very appointment. Always at night. I told them how alone I felt during these moments. How weak.

Especially the really bad one that struck as I was trying to shut my mind off because of a pain in my bladder...which was actually because it was full...(chemo damage likely). I started "self talking" (really losing it....) to calm myself down so I could sleep. It didn't warrant a hospital visit, so I decided to make a plan (in my mind) that I'd track the pain for a week or two and if I was still worried I'd make an appointment with the doctor. Then they could ultrasound if necessary - and BAM - full on panic attack at the image in my mind of me laying on that ultrasound bed, looking at the tech and trying to read her face as to if she was seeing anything sinister.

I got out of bed as my heart was still pounding and I felt like I was going to throw up, and a friend who is logical and a fellow survivor talked me down. Took 45 minutes, but within 15 minutes of the end of that chat I finally was able to sleep.

That was the worst one, but there were others.

I was watching Dr Taylor and the psychologist's face as I told them about this, but didn't see any major concern so I relaxed a bit. It was like admitting an embarrassing secret. But I felt better talking about it.

I rounded off this rather depressing conversation with the 100 things and the lack of self esteem issue that I was baffled about.

Dr Taylor then said 3 things that have stuck with me since, and caused a shift in my perception of everything I told her. 

She didn't think I had a lack of self esteem. She believed everything was linked - that everything I was enduring was not a multitude of issues. Her thoughts were that my confidence was shattered when I was diagnosed. In everything. Myself. Doctors. Life.

That would explain why I couldn't ask family or friends for help with The List (of 100) - I didn't have confidence that they would react as I previously would have expected - before diagnosis.

It explains why at my physical exam, when all was good and there was no reason to think there was canser hanging around - that I was terrified. I had no confidence that the news could be good.

Same with the panic attacks being triggered by the ultrasound image in my mind. The very test that could (likely) confirm no sinister issues with my bladder cause me such intense fear because I had no confidence it could confirm all was good.

I wondered after if they could hear the 'click' as my perspective shifted and previously unclear pieces fell into place.

It also explained why I was so anxious to go riding with my team the first time - I had no confidence  I could actually do it. But each time I go out with the team and complete the 30-36k ride, my confidence in my ability grows. I suddenly looked at all my 'issues' as something that needed to be rebuilt - step by step, like riding - and I saw the way to overcome them completely different. How could it be all or nothing? Confidence in something is like trust, once its lost you have to build it back up bit by bit. I could finally give myself a bit of breathing room.  Time, experience and work would heal my broken confidence. I just had to start small and see it as steps.

I can't tell you what an eye opener this was.  I've always done everything 110%, 1000 miles per hour, all in. Building confidence and earning trust are foreign to me. I've just never been the kind who doesn't assume it'll all work out. So I guess I'm in foreign territory.

As all this was clicking into place, she hit me with something I didn't see coming. It felt to a (much) lesser degree like when the doc said the words "it's breast canser".

"I'd like you to think about anxiety medication".

Whoa. Time out. WTF??

I'm a warrior, doc. I have demons - everyone does - but I just have to figure out how to slay them. Myself thank you very much...

I tried to keep the smile on my face, but despite my best efforts it was gone the second the word "medication" was out of her mouth. I really wish I wasn't so easy to read - which she clearly read the expression on my face because she launched into her thoughts before I could say anything.

"You've been through alot this last year. Alot. It's completely understandable that you're feeling so overwhelmed..."

I managed to get out "But I thought it was supposed to be hard? That this was normal. All along I've been told it's normal. Panic attacks can't hurt you..."

"You're right. Panic attacks can't hurt you...but they aren't helping you either. And yes, it's normal for it to be hard at this stage. But you're suffering."

Suffering? Me? I thought I was just spazzy. Hypochondriac maybe. Needed to get a grip. But suffering?

"It doesn't need to be so  hard. The anxiety meds can just put things in a less intense range so you can handle things and not feel so overwhelmed. Just for 6-12 months, to get you through the rough stuff and take the edge off. You'll still feel anxious sometimes - it won't numb you - but it'll be within a manageable range. It wouldn't even be the full therapeutic dose - just very low dose. You're suffering and I think this would help."

Suffering. I rolled the word around in my head. I never thought about it that way. Was I suffering? Interesting.

And then I felt something I haven't felt in a very, very long time.

Compassion. For myself.

But I wasn't on board with the medication. I asked if I could think about it. And I mentioned how I wanted to really focus on exercising and doing some of the coping stuff we were taught in the Recovery group to see if it would help reduce the anxiety.  She said the medication was just an option - I didn't have to do anything I wasn't comfortable with. 

We made another appointment  in a months time. My plan was to have an answer by then. I needed time to absorb this hour's worth of info that felt like a game changer. And decide how I felt about this new option now on the table.

Becauser of you - Reba & Kelly Clarkson (YouTube)

Friday 22 May 2015

...And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life... - JK Rowling

April 29, 2015

So I haven't spoken alot about the breast canser recovery group I'm in (at Breast cancer Supportive Care) but the last couple of weeks were a bit raw emotionally for me. The topics were fears (recurrance & stress) and then last week loss and grief. I know, it may be hard to understand why you'd want to go to a class for 3 hours on each of those topics. But the class is all about getting our hands dirty. It helps to give you tools to sort out everything you've been through and to process stuff you may want to lock away forever. Which I know sounds appealing, but locking stuff away doesn't solve anything. It just delays it. So if I'm going to be messed up, I'd rather be messed up all at once rather than spreading that shit around.

And I'm about as messed up emotionally as you can get. Rock bottom I think. But I also still feel strong and like there are no limits to what I can do. See what I mean by messed up?! Broken and whole all at once. Maybe I left my sanity at the Tom Baker at my last treatment...

Those two weeks were hard, but hard like when you get a massage and they dig to get the knots out...initially it's uncomfortable - painful even - but afterwards you're less tense, less knotted and the pain is softened a bit, even if you're still tender in spots.

This week we discussed self esteem. No problem. I've always generally been a confident person. I wouldn't have considered myself someone with low self esteem so the idea of delving into it didn't bother me.

And then there was the List of 100.

The exercise asked that you create a list of 100 things to celebrate about yourself. Like "I am a strong person. For example I have weathered and coped with canser treatments" So the night before class I got out my pen because it asked to at least start with two things/traits. Two. Easy right?

Well that's what I thought.

But I couldn't think of a single good thing about myself to celebrate. Not one. I thought maybe I was just tired because surely 1 thing was not impossible. So I decided to sleep on it.

Next morning, sitting in class (quite early), same block. The List didn't come up in class and with only 30 min left I thought I was in the clear.

And then we did a meditation exercise and one of the parts was thinking of a time you did a selfless act for someone. And I couldn't think of one thing. I could feel the lump in my throat. The tears in my eyes, even if they were closed.

In my head: "Tears, please don't slip out. Jeeze, get a hold of yourself."

Afterwards one of the facilitators, Andrea, asked what we all thought of the exercise. People admitted some memories were harder to think of on the spot. I started to speak up - saying how I couldn't think of anything for that memory. Then admitted that the same thing happened with the List.

And then the damn tears did escape my eyes. My voice wavered. How can someone not think of one good thing about themselves?? What is wrong with me??? And I felt stupid for crying and stupid for not being able to jot one damn thing down.

The suggestion offered was asking family and friends to start you off, especially if you are stuck. My reply was "I read that, but didn't ask them because I was afraid they wouldn't think of anything either".

Maybe that was me hitting rock bottom. Because really, does it get much sadder than that?

One of my lovely canser babes stepped up after a few people shared their one thing to celebrate - to start me off with one thing for my list.

As she spoke about how I've impacted her on her journey, I couldn't stop the tears. Who was this person she was describing? How could it be me? How could I, with all my imperfections, have affected someone in such a way that she would speak so highly of me, when I feel like it's been all about myself, and I haven't been a good friend to anyone the last year?

Maybe - just maybe - I've just been too incredibly hard on myself. Was I like this before canser? I don't know.

Since that class, I'm determined to fill my list. 100 things. Kinda lofty given I couldn't even think of 1 ha. But if I could face all my canser treatments head on, why not this challenge? If I could hop on a bike and go 30k, I'm sure I can find some things to celebrate about myself. I can't have a year of self discovery and not see any positives about myself. Everyone has good qualities.

So must I.

I will start the list off with my wonderful friend's "start up" from class.

And The List will become part of my quest in finding my roar this next year. I may have a 2nd thing to add to it...although my co-workers may not agree ;)




Pretty Good At Drinkin Beer by Billy Currington (from his VEVO on YouTube)

Wednesday 20 May 2015

No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow - Proverb

April 23, 2015


Those road bikes have given me a lift. It's an escape in those bad moments, where I can free myself and outrun the demons. Even if it's only for the time spent pedalling. 

There's also been the kids birthdays. I wanted to have special birthdays this year that they would remember. Something they would really enjoy. Something to shed some light in the darkness.


So I booked a splatter paint party at 4 Cats Art Studio for Emily. At an art studio...She loves art. I let her invite a few friends from school plus her usual crew of cousins, preschool buds and her BFF (or Sister) Aydan. We did separate birthdays so their younger friends like Gabe and Olivia could go to Ethan's. 

It was an absolute blast! Each kid got their own canvas and got to throw paint at it. Yes, throw...(also a good reason Ethan was the only one under 5 lol)






All the kids enjoyed it. Then they got to collaborate on a 3x6 canvas on the floor, which included popping balloons full of paint...

It was perfect. And so worth it to see Emily's look of pure joy. We go it so right this time.

She talked about it all the way home and for the next few days. Each child got their own canvas (which I picked up a few weeks later) so now we have an awesome memento and work of art. 









For Ethan's birthday we booked a tour at the Fire hall! Ok, so that worked out great for me too ha! But that was also a perfect idea. Ethan loved it and it seemed like so did all his friends. 






And probably most of his friend's moms because we got a fireman to go down the pole! That made my week...ha ha ha. We got a big picture of the whole gang so I want to get it printed (thinking 8x10) and hang it up in Ethan's room as a great reminder...and maybe a framed photo of the fireman going down the pole for my room...kidding!!













Amongst the birthdays was our first attempt at the Tuesday Night One Aim team ride (training ride) except it snowed!! So my first ride I was in a pub drinking a Guinness while 6 crazy teammates battled the elements. I'd still say that was a success...





Fish Creek



The following Friday Phil took me through Fish Creek - part of the team ride he did the night before (all 30k he did!) We went 24.5k - my longest ride ever!





Fish Creek









In some ways I couldn't believe I rode 24k...in some ways I was disappointed in myself that it wasn't the whole ride (that the team did). I guess I haven't gotten a hang of the whole "go easy" on myself yet...






Survived first 24k ride!


Chestemere




Two days later we parked at Glenmore Inn and rode out to Chestemere and back. We did 33k that day! It was awesome - "How's this considered work?" I thought...







Chestemere




Ha and then we tried round 2 of the Tuesday night Team ride. Now at least I had ridden more than 6k...but going up that first kinda steep hill in Tuscany I thought "oh this is the 'work' part they were talking about ha ha ha. Mike and Nigel led the team and Mike talked me up the hill. I don't know if it was pride, determination or Mike distracting me from my screaming legs, but I stayed on my saddle and made it up!









Phil in Red

Nigel told all of us the worst part was done. And then we came to a hill twice the size!! Not as steep and I may have cursed (Nigel) but I made it up that one too. And survived the rest of the ride. With my team. My mall Angels.








Me



It was exhilarating! Last year I watched on Facebook every Tuesday as Nigel's posted pic's showed up in my feed. I felt like part of the team from the few times I would meet them after their ride for a pint at The Last Straw Pub. But this made it official. I am a proud part of One Aim now.



It happened to be a really hard class in my breast canser recovery group that day. I also happened to run into one of the women from my class at the pub. She said afterwards that I was glowing when I first walked into the pub from my ride. It was more than just my telltale red face from physical exertion (damn fair Irish roots complexion...) I felt alive. And present. And happy.

So very, very happy.






Thursday 7 May 2015

And so it begins

April 10, 2015



We bought road bikes!!! 

Beautiful, shiny, new road bikes that make me smile just looking at them!!

Although it wasn't our intention to buy new bikes...just to get road bikes of some sort so we'd have a better chance of training for, and completing , The Ride To Conquer canser. The One Aim training rides have started already....

Phil had been eyeing Kijiji the last 3 weeks, which is where we kinda thought we'd end up buying them from. And then we walked into Pedalhead.....

Sigh.

We're investing in our health though right??? I don't know who was smiling more when we left - us, or Alan the salesman (who also is co-owner and awesome) lol. When we first got there we took our 1st ever road bike for a spin near the store to see what we thought - and I was converted from mountain bikes forever. Riding in the Canyon Meadows parking lot, all I could think was "where can I go to go fast??" It was tiny, light and fit me like a glove. I was in love.

I had to get that bike.

We tried another brand but it wasn't the same. After an hour of talking to him (and texting Nigel to make sure we weren't completely off our rocker...yes I see the mistake now...), we told him we'd be back to get them the next day. We wanted to sleep on it. But I knew.

It was as good as mine.

Sitting in that saddle was pure joy. Really! Maybe chemo really did affect my brain. It's like something just clicked. That test drive awoke something I didn't even know was there. Cycling?? Me??

This is crazy!

But I know better than to run from - or question - that feeling. So it's Cindo the Cyclist now I guess! If it's possible Phil was as excited, if not more so, about his bike! So at least it's not just me...

Phil came home early from work the next day and we picked up our gorgeous new rides. We had no gear, except for the helmet and gloves, but we unloaded our bikes and got them on the road as soon as we got home.

My soul came alive on our 1st ride. Part of the brokenness inside started to heal with each pedal stroke.

I think I'm hooked for life.

I even swallowed a few bugs because I couldn't wipe the huge open mouthed grin off my face. I was on a high long after we got off our bikes. 

For those 30 minutes I was completely worry free. When I got on the bike, I took the weight of the world off my shoulders. And when I put it back on after the ride, it felt a little lighter. I don't know if anything since treatment has been able to do that.


Very powerful stuff. To be able to be completely present in the moment. NO fears about the future. No worries about the past. Just pure joy in the actual moment I was living in.

I told Nigel he created a couple of monsters. He probably just smiled.

I'm equally nervous and excited about our first team ride. The nervous part of me worries - what if I can't keep up? Or worse, what if I let them down? My excited side can't wait to finally ride with my team. They've ridden this tough canser road with me. Now I get to ride amongst them - as an official teammate. Regardless of current ability, I promise to earn my spot. And their respect.

We decided on the Tuesday Night team ride as our first team ride together - led by Nigel. I couldn't imagine starting my riding story any other way.

Let's just hope my body is as enthusiastic about riding as my mind lol


I feel good by James Brown (YouTube)

Sunday 3 May 2015

Loving ourselves through the process of owning our own story is the bravest thing we'll ever do - Brene Brown

April 8, 2015

I've been trying to start this blog for a few days now. I wrote the date last night and then just stared at the blank page. I can always 'feel' when it's time to write a blog. I've been 'feeling' it for a few days now. I thought maybe last night the timing was off.

So after a nice (ha) sweaty 45 min spin this AM I showered and came down to Second Cup to enjoy a mocha and write.

I stared at the blank page for 10 minutes.

It's not that I don't have anything to say. Quite the opposite - I'm bursting at the seams needing to get it out.

But where to start?

Where to start...Well that's the problem. Those 3 words sum up how I've felt since treatment ended.

Not very difficult really - there's so many things I could "start with" to keep me as healthy as possible and guide me into post (pre??) canser life...

Like nutrition. Exercise. Social events. Talking to a shrink. Going back to work. Regular housework. Quality time with family. With friends. Focus on others instead of me. Take on more responsibility. Move on.

But where most normal people would see a long list of options - I see a list of "must do now's" that overwhelm me to tears. To the point of shutting down. That is partly thanks to my brain fog, which is a combo of having had canser itself and chemo treatment...More than one decision at a time overwhelms me. Yup - more than one decision...

And every day I don't do all those things, I feel like a failure. A not good enough Mom. Wife. Daughter. Sister In Law. Friend. Responsible Employee. Daughter in Law. Cousin.

I can't do it all - I've been trying.

I screw up every, single day.

I'll be good for exercise but then nothing else. Or I'll eat fantastic - tons of greens, multiple smoothies and homemade veggie juice, but nothing else. Then I cry cause I'm so frustrated & disappointed in myself. 

I've cried alot lately.

And wrapped up in that frustration is guilt. I'm ALIVE. So it's a bit ridiculous when I have a pity party.

I'm failing at being a survivor too.

There's days I feel like the physical trials I endured through treatment were not as bad as this hell I'm in now. Give me a tumour, and tell me I need to endure 8 rounds of high dose chemo - I know how to do that. Tell me I have to go in for surgery to remove parts of me I've had since birth? OK, I know how to do that too. Same with radiation. 16 rounds? Ok. I can do that. It's not easy - no, it's the hardest thing I've ever done. But I know how to do all that.

Surviving? No damn clue.

How is that possible???

There's also the recurrence black cloud. Not being able to do everything isn't about me trying to be Superwoman or "perfect". For me it's about feeling like I have some tiny amount of control in a life that has been basically run by fear & canser for the last year. It's about feeling like I am doing everything in my power to keep it from coming back. Every "failure" is a missed opportunity to fight. I feel like I have all these gems of info - and I'm not maximising the opportunities now. It's like a race I never knew I was running, with death at my heels, and I'm just trying to stay one step ahead of the game. Maybe life is like that for everyone, but I never saw it that way until treatment ended and my "3 year clock (until statistically recurrence REALLY goes down)" started ticking.

Phil, my family and friends have been so supportive and have done so much. I am really starting to feel like a never-ending burden. It's been a year. A year! The canser is gone. Why can't my brain and emotions catch up and get the memo?

Before being diagnosed I did alot of things wrong health wise. I am not saying that in a blaming way - but certain things are "risk factors" and I was doing all of them . Drinking too much. Eating bad. Not enough greens - some days none. Many days none actually. Not enough exercise. Too much stress - work stress, life stress, financial stress.

I was basically the walking poster child for what not to do to avoid breast canser.  There were so many things I could have done differently. Now I know better

And that, my friends, is the rub. Now I know better.

So why is it so damn hard to do better?

Damn if I know.

(but I intend to figure it out...)




Bad Day by Daniel Powter (Official Music Video from YOuTube)

Saturday 2 May 2015

From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a stroy. A story that says "I survived" - Craig Scott

March 31, 2015

1 year.

In some ways it feels like it was just yesterday when our world got turned upside down. In some ways it feels like a million years ago that our life didn't have canser in it.

I'm still me, but also strangely a completely different person. My kids have had to face things no kids should have to face - and I can only hope it didn't do irreparable damage. My husband likely felt like a single parent alot of this year to 3 kids instead of 2 - that's how bad some days were - emotionally, mentally or physically.

The last year sure had it's downs. But with a canser diagnosis you kinda expect that.

What I didn't expect were the unbelievable highs. I still struggle with the thought of all the good that's come out of this year. A year when I was diagnosed with canser....

How can there be such deep personal growth when you're going through such hell? How is it that an army of people can step up, and keep stepping up, even 1 year from when we first said "I need you"? Who knew gratitude was a deep, unending well that could be found every, single day of the worst year of our lives?

I've learnt there's no such thing as a limit to how much love you can have in your heart for those in your life who stepped up - even in small ways or gestures (which were not small in my eyes). The last year confirmed for me that people are good, kind souls and I am surrounded by angels in my life - at home (even if I think one of them has horns hiding beneath his redish/blonde curls...) in my community, amongst all my friends, my acquaintances and even at work!

I may have felt isolated at times because of what I was feeling, but never was I abandoned.

I never thought canser was a gift. But recently I heard someone say "canser is a gift wrapped in barbed wire" and I have to say that is a bit of a fair statement to my last year.

I haven't come out unscathed. Sadly, neither has my family (immediate and extended). I've said so many times - it's been hard. Hell even. But I've discovered a strength within that I never knew was there. I've been bald, boobless and scarred (all at once!) yet able to embrace all of it - albeit not without some tears, a Guinness or two and the love from those around me. A year ago I wouldn't have thought that was even remotely possible.

Along the way I've fallen in love with a team who met me at my worst, but welcomed me like I was at my best. They accepted me with all my fears, insecurities and stripped outward appearance and inspired me to to go far beyond what I thought I was capable of, by showing me there could be life - an amazing life - after canser. My beloved Mall Angels.

I've gained so many new important people in my life who encourage and help me up every time I fall. My "canser babes" as I call them - the amazing women in my life that I've met who have walked a similar awful path as I. Especially Kelly who has been with me on this crazy ride since the beginning. Friends from my childhood have become closer friends too. I can't count how many times I've texted Stephane who is 8 years since his canser diagnosis. Or the wonderful women I grew up with who became "Team Cindo" on days when I was crying as I texted them as a group - only to have them find humour and turn those tears of sadness into tears of laughter. 

I've met some other strong women fighting different scary diseases -  Natasha & Lorna  - and it's amazing to me how much we have in common and how much they have inspired me, even if Parkinson's and Scleroderma are nothing like canser.

My friends who were close to me have been with me every step of the way. I counted on them before, and am so blessed that I can count on them still. Same with my family - either immediate or extended...They check in and encourage me on those bad days when it feels just too damn hard to be a fighter. I may hang up the gloves from time to time, but they wear them for me at these times, keeping them warm for when I'm ready to glove back up.

 Especially Phil - he has been in the trenches with me since day one. I honestly wondered if the "novelty" would wear off (or wear thin) but he is as supportive as ever. With every step I take - whether forward or backwards - he is a step behind me - ready to catch me when I fall and cheer me on once I get back up.

And I've been writing a year's worth of blogs... Me!! I've never written like this before. And stranger still, people read them. Willingly! My blog has become a place where I try to sort out what's in my head and what's in my heart. Because I try so hard to focus on the Silver Linings but there are also some cloudy days. I hope it helps anyone who's going through canser or who has a loved one going through it to get a better sense of what it may be like. Every canser story is different afterall...

I know lots of people lose friends going through canser (I mean friendships - not that people die...) But I can say those who were close before are closer still, and many who I hadn't spoken to in years also stepped up with love and encouragement. I could spend an eternity trying to thank all those who got me to where I am today - a year later. 

A canser free year later...

So ya, a year ago I was diagnosed with stage III breast canser. And I endured 8 rounds of chemo, a bilateral mastectomy and 16 rounds of radiation.

But we also camped every round of chemo. We went to Big Valley Jamboree. During chemo! We ran our first 5k at The Run For The Cure...2 weeks after my last chemo! We went to West Edmonton Mall with the kids for a canser break before surgery. Taught the kids to skate. Threw a few parties! Participated in CANSuffer to Conquer - by spinning for 2 sessions - 1 month after treatment was done! We signed up to ride over 200k at The Ride To Conquer, which will be 7 months after my last radiation. And we'll be signing up for The Run For The Cure again in October...

It's been a hell of a year!

Looking back, maybe we did more than 'just survive'. Maybe we 'thrived' - just a bit.

I had 2 main theme songs this last year - Carry On by Fun and Inner Ninja by Classified. I have probably listened to each of those songs not hundreds - but thousands - of times this past year. They still resonate with me big time but looking at the next year to come I'm adding Roar by Katy Perry as my theme song.

Because I very much intend to find my roar.

After all - "I've got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire, Cause  I am a champion and you're gonna hear me roar..."





I put together this slideshow (that does not work on mobile - sorry!) looking back at all canser couldn't stop us from doing.  I look at it from time to time when I need to remind myself that anything is possible - and to not give up.