Category Archives: After treatment

Why I ALWAYS dance at weddings

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Fun, Life by

The suitcase has been half unpacked and my purple cocktail dress is draped across the growing pile of clothes on the sofa in our bedroom (I’ve got some beige heels somewhere, but I couldn’t’ tell you where they’ve gone). I have a popped blister on my left foot, and my hair is an unwashed bird’s nest from all that hairspray I tried to use that ultimately did nothing.

This is going to be a very quick post because of all the things that need doing, including lunch being made.

Here is what I want to say.

This past weekend we attended a wedding of a friend and his beautiful wife. These weddings amoungst my friends are fantastic. They are first class celebrations of love, connections and reuniting. I’m so glad to be part of that happiness.

Anyhow, you know how it goes at weddings. The bride and groom have their first dance, and not long after the dance floor becomes deserted as people attend to the bar in order to work up ‘courage’. And that’s all fair enough.

But I have an MRI on Tuesday.

It’s weird to say that. And maybe you don’t see the connection? I have a MRI on Tuesday to make sure there’s no cancer in my body.

And this past Saturday evening, there was an empty dance floor. Do you see the connection yet?

When it comes to weddings, along with all the lovely conversation, dresses, and food – I choose to DANCE. I need to DANCE. Zsolt and I must DANCE.

It’s a strange thing to say, and quite possibly in my head, but I feel like there’s this very thin veil between me and my old high-school friends. It has a whole lot to do with having had cancer, fighting cancer, worrying over cancer.  You know?

When I dance with my husband at weddings, I’m doing it (despite the quality of the music) because I’m alive and capable of moving, because I’m here now and tomorrow holds no promises, and because it makes me so happy to dance and be goofy.

Actually, thinking about this – I’m underestimating the experiences of many of my friends. I know some of them have faced things I’m yet to encounter, and felt things that are just as deeply impacting. Love, loss, life, distance, heart-break, illness, fatigue, divorce, birth, death  . . . Jesus! I just realized that as a group, we’ve seen a lot.

So maybe everyone does get it – and that’s why, by the end of the night, everyone is dancing.

Anyhow, I’ve got to go and make this soup. But all that to say that when it comes to wedding, I’ve got to dance. One the light side it makes me laugh, and looking deeper, it makes me feel alive.

Okay, time for lunch. And maybe a shower to follow!

Tamoxifen, MRI, and Fertility FUN

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Fertility, Life by

Okay, here we go. It’s June, baby. And I mean baby.

This morning I spoke with a young lady who works in the local imaging clinic. She was booking me in for a MRI this upcoming Tuesday morning. All I could think of as we talked over my ‘pre-screening’ on the phone was: “I hope I don’t cry again. Oh, and I hope I don’t pass out. Annnd I hope I don’t throw up. AND there better not be cancer.”  Not crying would be a glorious first.

June is huge

(The other stuff all happened the very first time I had an MRI. The situation was simply too overwhelming, but no wonder given the circumstances of diagnosis.)

But it’s a wonderful thing that I’m even having an MRI. The fact is, a woman in my situation – without any family history or any faulty BRCA genes – isn’t generally welcomed to MRI breast screening. But Dr Canada sent in a request, and apparently the requisition went through. It might be because I told them I was kaput with the tamoxifen.

As I said before, it’s June, baby.

What has been an emotional month for the past couple years now has an additional mark of importance. I’m not just getting screened this month, I’m stopping my tamoxifen. I’ve now been on Tamoxifen for 2 years and five months. So, basically 2.5 years. The oncologists recommend 5 years, and that might even be going up to 10 years with some new study recently released.

But I’m not waiting 10 years to try and have a baby. You can just forget that.

It’s so funny. I was saying to my husband, Zsolt, the other day that there are times in my life when I don’t want to be stopped. You know? Like when I want something so much, so badly, and feel that it is so right that it takes on a certain sort of power. I really only ever regret the moments where I didn’t follow my gut. For choices this big, this important – I need to go with what resonates through my being. And it’s saying TRY, DAMN IT, TRY.

I WANT to do this with every single part of my being, and therefore, we are going to do it. We are going to go for a baby.

My oncologist, as I’ve said before, is of two minds in the matter. In one aspect he thinks I should stay on the Tamoxifen. But on the other side of things, he reckons young women actually benefit from getting pregnant in terms of protection from cancer. He is in two minds. I am in one mind. My single mindedness helps this decision feel a little less scary.

The Tamoxifen stops as of June 15th. We then wait three months. And then, we try. That’s all I can do. Try. And I guess give up all dairy products and other food that encourages too much estrogen, since I will be without the Tamoxifen – it’s like the least I can do. And make sure I sweat every day since that also burns off extra estrogens.

So Monday is the MRI. June 27th is the mammogram. I’m stopping Tamoxifen on the 15th. And if the scans come back clean, then onward and upward. Today I also swallowed my nerves and called the fertility clinic for a check-up. More on that some other time.

June is a big month.

Everything will be okay.

I’ll try not to cry.

Fourth Year Anniversary :)

Posted in After treatment, Life, Love, Writing by

Today is May 29th, 2013. I’m in a coffee shop looking out toward the busy street. There are scooters and shops and buses and dogs. It’s raining, but I guess that’s okay; it means I get to wear my giant rain boots that are this gorgeous royal blue. There is only one piece missing from this scene, and that is my husband. He’s considered missing because: 1) He detests going to coffee shops and 2) He’s at an Invest Ottawa Seminar till after lunch and 3) It’s our wedding anniversary today!

Wedding Catherine And ZsoltFour years married 🙂 Oh my goodness.

Technically, I’d say we’ve been together for just about 8 years this coming July 25th, but we were married in a old church in Pakenham four years ago. The ceremony was led by a young Hungarian priest and given in both languages.  I had pink tulips, which are Zsolt’s favourite flower, and Zsolt was forced to wear a pink tie to match.

One of my favourite memories from that wedding (okay, there are many favourite memories, this one just happens to fit into my current mood) is waiting to walk down the aisle. The family had all walked down to take their seats, Zsolt was waiting at the front with his sister, my bridesmaid was just about to take off, and I was on the verge of panic behind the entrance doors, holding onto my dad’s arm. There was this little old lady floating around us and fixing my dress. And just as all this was happening, she gives me a nudge and points up at the ceiling.

High above us on the ceiling is a painting (a fresco, a mural?) and amongst the painted clouds is this big eye right in the middle. This little old lady says to me, “I’ve been coming to this church my entire life, and whenever we’d walk through the entrance, my father always had me look up at that eye. He said it was the eye of God watching over us.”

So together we looked up at the eye. At God. At the idea.

That made me feel better. And after that moment, at least in my memory, I got married to the man of my life.

Four years later, I’m here in a coffee shop and my husband is out trying to meet with other entrepreneurs for his business. Never in my life did I ever imagine I’d be a writer & social media ‘er’ professionally. Never. I didn’t dare dream those sort of things in high school or university. It was only after having had cancer that the life changed so much and somehow left me following the words: “I am a writer.”

And never in my life, in my whole entire span of knowing the man, did I imagine my husband would be starting his own business. Yeah – that’s right. When the world won’t give you space, you need to make it for yourself, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. I couldn’t be more proud. The Zsoltster is getting into patent analysis (focusing on prior art searches) with online work and consulting, helping inventors and businesses be confident of their idea before investing in their patents or prototypes. That’s why on our anniversary we’re prioritizing him going out and learning more, interacting, meeting people. It’s important. And we’ll celebrate our amazing marriage on the weekend.

Zsolt as an entrepreneur. Wow.

So is God still watching from up there on that ceiling? Four years later, have we arrived exactly where we should be? Cancer was the biggest test for both of us (and still is, frankly), but being unemployed, dealing with crazy people, and learning to stop comparing ourselves to others who have followed a completely different path has been hard too. (And we are still learning how to do that last bit.)

It’s so funny. I always said that it was heartbreaking to live between two families and be so far away from both of them. Every time at the airport when we say goodbye to Zsolt’s parents and his dad basically RUNS for the airport exit so we don’t see him crying – heartbreaking!

But wouldn’t it be something if we found a way to work from anywhere? This might be an answer.

We were in this little Italian mountain village not long ago, and the wifi was excellent. I said to Zsolt: “This is where we should come for a month and live. Just because we can.”

And you know what else is funny? Zsolt used to say when he was looking for work (the first time we arrived in Canada, which feels like ages ago now), “I wish someone would pay me just to search the internet!” (because he’s really good at database searching) – and now he’s starting a business that basically involves in-depth database searches and analysis.

Life is WEIRD.

Life is challenging.

Life keeps surprising me.

Thank GOD for certainties. I knew four years ago that without a doubt I wanted to marry Zsolt. I know for certain that he and I will be together for our lives. And you know what, I knew eight years ago when I first met him that this was the man for me, and nothing was going to stand in my way. Certainties are a blessing, and most of mine reside in the fact that 1) I love my husband and 2) I love writing.

And that is why, on my four year anniversary, I’m in here in this coffee shop writing a post to you. Bumpyboobs has been with me for three years. And through this blog we’ve been growing up and testing ourselves in ways that school never prepared us for. I am grateful for this space and the people who are kind enough to read it. Thank you for being part of this crazy, challenging, and weird adventure through life.

Cheers to finding your voice and vocation, and cheers to being flexible. Cheers to giving support. Cheers to finding friends. Cheers to getting older. Cheers to everything that makes this world so sweet (including the cup of tea beside me that has now gone cold.)

And most of all, cheers to my husband – who I love from a place that can’t exactly be described, except to say it’s deeply rooted. Happy anniversary, Babe. I love you.

~Catherine

P.S. My husband is now on twitter. If you can, please do follow him at @easypatent. Also, check out his website at www.easy-patent.com, and if you know of anyone needing some research and analysis (and may be considering a patent) on their great inventive ideas, send them our way 🙂

P.P.S. Oh my goodness, for the first time in 3 years, I’m not associating my wedding anniversary with discovering cancer. I mean – FRACK – that did happen, and now I’ve thought about it. But I didn’t really think about that connection for most of this post. Yay for progress. (And for a good scan at the end of JUNE)