Author Archives: Catherine Brunelle

The Pill, LuluLemon, and My Soap Box

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Not so long ago (like last week), Lulu lemon went and threw a grenade into their enterprise. You probably know what happened so I won’t go into it. I’ll only say it sucks that my damn expensive set of yoga pants are now embarrassing to wear. Comfortable, but embarrassing. What a huge fail on their part. I loved their brand and didn’t give a damn about some stupid see-through trousers that were recalled. Now, they as a company have become embarrassing.

But this isn’t about Lululemon. It’s about the birth control pill. In this post on the Lululemon website, they link the pill—through social changes, promiscuity, Super Girls, shoulder pads, and whatever—to breast cancer. Because of the rambling leaps in logic, the conclusion is really stupid. However…

I link the pill to breast cancer because at 28 years old (okay, 27 turning 28), I was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer in my right breast. I had no risk factors. Cancer isn’t a common theme in my family tree. It was seemingly random.

Eight years (give or take) I was on the pill. I started around the age of eighteen, before I even began having sex. As soon as the concept of sexual relations (whooohoo!) came into play, it was off to the family doctor for a prescription. Forget carrying condoms with me and insisting the guy wore it – I was a teenager, and therefore, I was assumed to not be responsible enough for that kind of foresight. It’s no one’s fault. Teenagers are horney and like to have fun. Foresight can wane. There was fear around teenage pregnancy and throwing you life away.

The pill was the answer.

At first I wasn’t sure, but after visiting the doctor it seemed okay. She prescribed me with some medication, explained how to take it, and off I went into the world of Sexual Good Times. (Except I wasn’t actually having sex, that came later. I was just glad to be on the pill in case I decided to hit that homerun.)

And then, as I started to look around, I realized all the girls were on the pill. Everyone popped their pill and got bigger boobs, or stabilized their periods, or had a change in libido, or cleared their acne, and in general us young women had peace of mind that we were safe from throwing our lives away.

Do you know what? When I went to visit the doctor, we didn’t even talk about alternative contraception. I mean, okay, there were condoms (I’m pro condom since it doesn’t change our physiology), but I mean contraception that a woman could actively control with her own body like diaphragms, sponges, spermicide gel, etc. (Back then that metal T thing didn’t seem to exist). It was just assumed that this change to my hormones, tricking my eighteen-year-old body  into thinking that it was already pregnant all the time, was the way to go.

I was on the pill with various breaks for eight years.  I didn’t even consider it to be a real drug. When nurses, or doctors, or insurance people asked if I was on medication, I’d reply, “No. Oh, well, only the pill.” As if it was nothing.

For eight years, taking a pill that made my body think it was pregnant. Taking pills that made me flat-out nauseous and sometimes vomit if they were swallowed less than 12 hours apart. 

I’d never even seen a diaphragm before – didn’t even know how to get one. But that was okay, because the pill was okay.  It wasn’t a real drug.

I guess that’s what really ticks me off: my failure to appreciate that birth control is a real drug, with REAL impact on the body’s system. And it’s not just me. I have friends who’ve also been on the pill for eight plus years and spoke about migraines, fatigue, nausea . . . then, they went off the pill and the symptoms got considerably better (not all the way better, but consider if the body has been altered for so many years, would the impact clear up immediately, if ever? I don’t think so). I feel mad at myself for being so flippant about something so real. Just because everyone did it, I thought it was nothing.

And I suspect birth control is still being sold as the way to prevent pregnancy. It’s not a drug, it’s a lifestyle.

Obviously not everyone on the pill (actually, hardly any my age) has gotten breast cancer. But women do seem to be getting cancer at younger ages. What are the real risks? Was it something other than birth control that caused the disease threatening me today? I don’t know.

I do know that the pill is now listed by the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation as a risk factor for breast cancer, so that is good. And what about young women who might be put on an eight year, ten year, or even longer path with this drug . . . is it still a lifestyle thing – a pill that you pop – or are the implications being explained, along with the alternatives?

Recently, I filled out the HOW study, which is a massive survey of women with and without breast cancer, comparing factors so that we can really learn about risks and differences and why people get breast cancer. Men and women are welcome to fill it out. You are welcome to do so, if you like.

I don’t know why I got breast cancer. A culmination of factors, I reckon. But do I think the pill is linked to this disease. It’s not a packet of candy, it’s a packet of drugs that alters our bodies. (And maybe guys don’t like condoms, but they’ll get used to it if that’s what women insist upon.)

So that is what the LuluLemon stuff kicked up inside of me. The pill makes me angry. I know it liberated women to take control of their bodies, but why should women have to alter their bodies to take control? Particularly in a relationship with mutual respect, where one doesn’t have to hide not wanting to get pregnant…

Anyhoo, that was a strong-opinion post. For birth control, I’m generally anti pill. Sure, there are cases when it is needed, but maybe as a whole we can be too quick to underestimate and overprescribe.

And that is all I’ll say about that.

A Little Healing Harp

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Today I listened to a harp. Right up close –ear to the wood. Very slowly the strings were plucked, and I listened with eyes closed to the vibration. The sound would start very deep, and made me think of the colour brown for some reason, then it would stretch out far and just continue and continue and continue until finally, eventually it faded away.

Good Vibration

There is a lovely lady in Ottawa who invited  me to her home this Monday morning. I won’t say her name only because, I forgot to ask if I could mention it here. She is an actress and musician and writer and counsellor and traveller and the perfect example of a renaissance woman.  Through a small series of coincidences, I found myself in her living room today, ear on her harp as she plucked different notes.

Two weeks ago I was at the Ottawa Women’s Business Network Courageous Women’s Event, which was organized by the lovely Camille Boivin, for whom I support in writing the blog “Sister Leadership.” This women’s event was held at the Bytown, and part of the evening involved storytelling and meeting notable women of Ottawa’s past. One lady there was Mother McGuinty. Mind you, she’s not the real Mother McGuinty – that lady being from the canal building times in Ottawa, which was long, long, long ago. The women at the event was an actress, and she often plays this role. Anyhow, she was by far the most popular person at this party as she played the role – and she wasn’t even there to network! Mother McGinty kept asking us to show her our ankles, and invited us to work at her ‘bar’ over the way where men would go crazy over the flash of a lovely ankle.

She was totally charming.

Then the other day, I was at the OICC, and there she was on the cover of a music CD – Mother McGuinty. She was on the cover of this CD, playing the harp.

And then, I was asked to find and interview her (for a series of Ottawa women we are doing over at SL). Which I did, because that’s what I do – and during our conversation it came out that she had had stage four lymphoma many years ago. To help herself feel better during treatments, she found a favourite note on her harp, and she would play it, listening as it stretched out and vibrate into her, until it finally faded away – then, she’d strum it again, and again, and again, resonating with the notes.

During my interview with her, which will sooner than later be on Cam’s blog, I had mentioned seeing her CD at the OICC, which is when she learned about the stage 4 breast cancer, and invited me over for a cuppa and some harp-listening.

It was a lovely part of today. It’s lovely how the notes flow right into me.

Never in my life did I imagine holding a harp and resting myself against it to listen and vibrate and heal. But that is exactly what happened today. It was lovely, she was lovely, and now I know my notes. J B and C – deep and strong.

So there is a little story about that.

 

How things are going, and a story about worms

Posted in Bumpboobs, Life, Novels and Stories by

I’m waiting for the chicken to defrost just a little before I slice it up. In the meanwhile, it’s time for a blog post! While I often update on Facebook and occasionally through the Kickstarter campaign, I thought maybe here in the land of blogging, it was quite a good idea to share on how the book is doing.

So, how is the book doing?

Very well, thank you for asking. There were starts and stops with a few things, but in reality  none of that even matters because it is all very good. This reminds me of why it’s good to do what you really believe in – like, from the gut and heart and whatever part of you taps that inside strength.

My point: When it is good, the hitches don’t matter.

The book is now off to the printers with the editing done (well, we did our very best for the time being), and cover designed. I have a proof copy, and it’s gorgeous.

Check out that investment sweater! Me being interviewed by Tina of Women In Leadership, Ottawa.

Check out that investment sweater! Me being interviewed by Tina of Women In Leadership, Ottawa.

Internal debate: When to reveal the cover?  Zsolt thinks we should ship out the book first, then show everyone the cover. He thinks it would be a lovely surprise in the mail. The man has a point. But on the other hand, I LOVE IT, and it’s sooo hard not to show the world when I’m going bonkers over something. Though maybe opening a book in the mail and seeing the picture would be very exciting… I imagine it could be fun. Your opinion?

Also, I’m planning on having a launch party. Now I’ve typed it out loud, I’m obligated! You heard it here – LAUNCH PARTY IS HAPPENING. Most of me wants to have it at the apartment. I’m wondering just how many people can fit into this space. Because really, all the best parties are house parties, no? Yes. It’s good to launch in a book store with wine and conversation… but perhaps it’s better to launch this book in my kitchen with pot luck, music and laughter? While the book is literary, it’s by no means stuffy. The party should reflect that, wherever it may happen.

Finally, in the very smallest cracks of the day, i.e. midnight-ish, I’ve started working on my writer’s website. This is all on me, I’m not outsourcing the business of websites. It’s mostly just a bit of fun, but also something quite practical. Below is a picture from the website, featuring an image from one of my oldest postcards:

pow

And just to give a little update, kind of imagining that Lulu was still reading this blog, and I know she’d be curious: How are we doing? Zsolt and I are doing really well, thanks for asking 😉

In terms of life, it’s been beautifully normal lately. There’s an oncologist appointment coming up this week, and I am praying Dr. Canada isn’t going to ruin my buzz. Onco appointments give me anxiety hot flashes.

The IV Vitamin C is going well. I go to the OICC in Ottawa, and I’m very grateful for their services. It’s not cheap, but like one of my doctors said: can you really put a price tag on your life? Well, yes, you can . . . but nevertheless, this is my shot, my time to try my damn best with what I’ve got, and I’m going to take it. I’m lucky to be able to do this. Part of what I make from the kickstarter campaign – like whatever I get to take away after making the book, etc., will hopefully go to this sort of thing.

I’m also doing something called mistletoe. It’s an injection 3x a week that is meant to stimulate the immune system. Truth be told, this isn’t fun. But I’ve heard some good results from others, so that is very encouraging.

Also, Zsolt’s parents are bringing us to Hungary for the holidays! I guess you can call that a gift for the soul. I had tried suggesting they come over here, but it’s not easy for them with the language barrier and the world being big, fast, and a little intimidating. So we go there! I’ve found a place that will administer vitamin C while I’m in Hungary. There will also be Christmas markets, and puppies and goulash (I’m hoping). I reckon it is better to go now than wait, wait, wait for the right moment. Forget waiting for the right moment—I don’t know what that even means anymore, except that body allowing, now is the right moment for everything.

And we are happy. I haven’t been crying every day, Zsolt and I laugh and play, and I am glad. I’m glad to be happy. Not much has changed one way or another, I guess . . . well, we’ve just been allowed to step-back from the drama (or get used to the drama) and a bit of happiness has been finding its way back in.

Also, I went to my parents’ workshop this past weekend, which was a HUGE help emotionally. There were a few really solid realizations during that workshop. Mostly, I realized I’ve been quite hooked on this idea of ‘home’ and maybe that’s not working out for me anymore. Maybe it’s time to let go of that allusive dream, or redefine it. I like that, it’s less pressure.

Other news? Oh, let’s see. The man is cooking me eggs. I’ve been so busy that Zsolt has been making lunch several times a week. He has mastered the art of eggs with yolk that isn’t too hard or too soft. He fries the bacon so it’s cooked but not chewy. And, he’s insisting upon frying up broccoli every time since it’s so healthy.

*MAN. Speaking of broccoli. A while ago, we bought broccoli from the local organic farmer who sells on the nearby street corner. So, fresh broccoli – la, la, la, happy days. Zsolt does his thing and cooks it all up while I’m at the computer working away. We eat dinner, and then, toward the end I notice a dead worm! Grossed out, I push away the last bit of broccoli and refuse to eat more (due to a traumatic broccoli freezing incident as a teenager that also involved worms). So Zsolt tosses the insect, then goes to eat the remainder of my broccoli—again finding another worm, then another, and another! THE ENTIRE LOT OF BROCCOLI IS FULL OF DEAD WORMS, and we’d eaten it all, minus that clump on my plate.

BAH!

But, at least they were organic worms.

The END. (of this blog post)