Category Archives: After treatment

Follow me on twitter

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Writing by

Phase two for my bumpyboobs  (Bet you didn’t know there was a phase one. Well there wasn’t I just like the term ‘phase two’, as though I’m really organized and have my life planned)  . . . Where was I? Right. Phase two for bumpyboobs:  Twitter.

Sometimes I can’t be asked to write an entire post, but shooting off a short comment is less intense.  So here we go, off to twitter land. My handle is bumpyboobs – do follow me if you are on twitter. I’ll follow you too. We can follow each other.  It’ll be a congo line gone circular.

Yay for brief statements about the weather, news, food, books, writing , random apartment occurrences, immigration and whatever else is on my mind! Plus notification of bumpyboobs postings (the best part).

Ok – now I need to go and work. By work, I mean read. And by read, I mean cruise the internet.  I’m trying to write a story set in the late 1920s and need some inspiration.

Bye!

Yes, we can

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

Well, mark one for small victories. Yesterday I walked to work and it didn’t wipe me out. Ha! Recovery is a very good thing. And yes, I felt incredibly proud – evidenced by the stupid smile plastered on my face, and whenever I passed someone (construction workers, lady with groceries, man on bike) there was a deep urge to shout out: “Look at this! I’m walking to work!”

But I didn’t really do that. Everyone was walking, except man on bike, so really . . . Or, maybe everyone should have been celebrating their ability to walk? Yes! I can walk! Yes! I can breathe! Yes! I can see! Yes! I can bike! Yes! I can shout! And so on.

Not only can I walk, see, bike, shout, breath, but I can also read, smell, laugh, love, study, think, eat (and eat and eat), draw, write, sing, rest, sleep, run, skip, dance AND more.

Life should be one big party all the time.

I suppose we forget our blessings the way we forget our pains. Mothers tell me that while child birth is traumatic they forget about the pain, like the mind purposefully shelves it so that the body can continue making babies. Perhaps it’s the same for good things too, because if I never stopped marvelling at how amazing it is to walk, I may never stop walking – and thus be really late for work.

Who knows, it’s just a theory. Yesterday was nice because it was new, and a marker in my post-chemo progress. Walking is a simple pleasure. But yesterday, it was a great event.