Category Archives: Bumpboobs

Proud, Excited and Thankful List: 2013

Posted in Bumpboobs, Canada, Fun, Life, Love, Novels and Stories, Travel, Writing by

It’s evening here in Hungary, and we’ve just come from a lovely day at the Vienna Christmas markets. There’s nothing like a whole load of Christmas lights in the dark to make you think of the holidays and year-end magic. So that’s what I did today, and now I’d like to think about what I did this year. This post is for a reflection of gratitude before moving forward to 2014.

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Hello from Vienna!

What I’m proud of:

1) The novel. There are so many aspects of this that challenged me, and I’m hugely proud to have faced that adventure at full-tilt, along with incredible support from you all. Seriously, I feel like I won an Olympic medal for ‘putting yourself out there, then creating something awesome from the experience’. Can I award myself a medal, or would the Olympic committe protest that? Maybe a gold-foil chocolate one instead.

2) My husband. Zsolt shines in many, many ways. I’m proud of his looking forward despite a year where he was laid off, felt displaced, and learnt his wife has stage four. This guy is pushing forward and acts as cheerleader supreme. I’m so incredibly proud of him.

3) Becoming involved with VanierNow and writing people’s stories. One story that really shines that I wrote is about Erica, the not-an-artist.

4) Getting up in the morning, getting dressed, and living my life. I’m very proud of this. I do it for myself, for my husband, for my family, for my health – I do it because life is better this way.

5) Recovering my grandmother’s furniture to give it new life. I sewed those slipcovers myself, baby! Lulu would not be impressed with the quality of my sewing, but I think she’d like the sentiment.

6) My work with Facing Cancer Together and Sister Leadership. As I said, it’s an honour to share people’s stories.

What I got excited for:

1) My husband, this blog, my friends,  and my family who always make me smile and have great times when we are together.  (We’ve drank about a swimming pool’s worth of tea during our chats, eh?)

5) Water. Last year we bought ourselves our dream canoe. This year we used it. We also found a nearby swimming hole that – despite one nibbling fish – makes me feel so happy inside.

4) This article in Apt613, and then this article in Apt613. It’s such an honour.

5) Travel. This year, we travelled through the Alps, wandered around Zurich, saw Christmas lights in Vienna, took a train across a mountain top in Italy, went up the leaning tower of Pisa, spent time in the beautiful city of Pecs, looked for bears in the Rockies, rode a 2-person bike in Stanley park, and spend much time downtown Ottawa doing our groceries.

What I’m thankful for:

1) My husband, because he sees me breakdown about every day, and he somehow finds it in himself to put me back together. So, I’m thankful for him and the magic we have together.

2) My Mom and Dad, who have been taking on the world on top of pushing me forward to push back against cancer.

3) The hug my best friend gave me on the day I was told about those spots in the lungs.

4) You and You and You! I love to see people do well and live well, and luckily enough I get to mix with people online who seem to feel just the same towards others.  The amount of talent you have, creativity, compassion, humour . . . it’s such an honour to mix with the mixers online. And thank you for your enthusiasm around my own big dreaming, too!

4.5) For the huge generosity that was shown during the Kickstarter campaign. It has been a great support in our life, and a good help with my health costs too.

blow my mind5) Camille of Sister Leadership has been coaching me through some very big emotions, so for that I cannot express enough how thankful I am.

6) I am thankful for writing. My writing gives me a sense of purpose like nothing else. When I wrote that story about Erica and featured her art – that is what it’s about. When I write little stories that makes my husband smile, that is what it’s about. When I imagine worlds that are seemingly impossible and yet happen in my imagination then fall onto the page – this is what it’s about!

IMG_0761 copy7) The beautiful photo shoot my friend Lou of Lou Truss Photography did for me and Zsolt just after I had been diagnosed again.

8) Each deep, beautiful breath of air. And for my lungs easing up on the pain, thank you so very much lungs and body.

And that is me for 2013.  I hope there’s much more to come for 2014. Like, say, Claire Never-Ending becoming a Canadian bestseller? How can I make that happen? What about the dream cottage in Balaton? Plus, more sharing of stories, more writing of fiction, more supporting of others, and loads of health heaped over that happiness.

**I’d love to hear some of your most proud/excited/thankful moments from 2013. Want to share a moment, or even a blog post? Feel free to link them in. :)**

~P.S. I have been trying to learn about making cool newsletters (as opposed to boring ones), so signed up with MailChimp & added a sign up app on my facebook. I’ve heard that newsletters are good for sending out little excerpts/nuggets people wouldn’t normally get elsewhere from your work. So if you’d like to sign up for my writing newsletter, I’ll do my best to throw in some ‘fresh for you’ fiction in the mailer! Maybe a Little Zsolti story, or some short spin-offs from Claire Never-Ending. Let me know what you’d like to see 🙂

Budapest and Vitmain C Infusion

Posted in Bumpboobs, Travel, Treatment by

[A ‘to be fair’ addition. The following friday after this post (i.e. today, when I’m writing this update), the infusion went far better. I think having my translator with me – Zsolt the human Hungarian-English dictionary – was really helpful. Plus, I was more prepared in the vein department. I looked like that kid in the Robert Munch story, Thomas’ Snowsuit. So, it has improved!]

Hey there, how you doing?

The man (Zsolt) and I are finally in Hungary for Christmas with his family. It was a pretty awesome to be invited over by his folks, but also an adventure that has presented itself with challenges. The biggest quetion being, how can we travel for long periods when I’m getting treatment? Mind you, it’s not “treatment” if you know what I mean – as in, it’s not the treatment-that-shall-not-be-named. There is no nausea as a result, or hair loss, or illness of any kind. Actually, infusions of vitmain c (IVC) kinda rock in that there are no heavy-handed side effects.

Anyhow, I had spoken with the naturopath in Ottawa about taking a month long break from IVC, and she said, “I’ve seen it be done before, but the results weren’t very good…”

Gulp.

So, how to travel and still get my infusions?

We were scrambling over this for a while, trying to find clinics that might offer the IVC service. I’d found many in Austria who offer IVC. Zsolt came up rather thin in Hungary, however he did find a clinic in Budapest that offers vitmain infusions. From there, he found a doctor who was willing to allow me to get my Vitamin C infusions, providing I bring along the vitamin C myself, which I have done. So, what follows is an email to my mother describing yesterday’s expereince. I’d like to say before diving into that little adventure, that I pray this won’t be the normal course of events. And it really is incredibly good of the doctor to allow me to have these treatments in her clinic. (It’s a fertility clinic by the way, the irony of that doesn’t allude me. Except of course, if there is no irony and I’ve just pulled an Alantis Morriset in making the suggestion. Whatever.) So despite all my winging, looking back I am of course grateful for this accomodation.

Here’s a little taste of what happens when travel and treatment meet. Plus, throw in a fever and a language barrier, just for some extra fun. 🙂

“Hi Mom,

The doctor’s was a mess. I mean, in the end we got there – but it was a crap day as a whole. The night before the doctor appointment, Zsolt got a fever. Then, the day of the appointment, his fever was waning but he had terrible heart burn. So in the end it was decided that he should not come along. Therefore, I took a taxi into Budapest and met his sis & bro-in-law [I have cut out their names for this post] at the doctor’s.

No one at the clinic spoke English.

We wait and wait,then go into for the appointment. So the doctor spoke to Zsolt’s sis & bro-in-law and hardly to me at all. I think I scare people with my total lack of Hungarian. Meanwhile, I’m just so knackered from Zsolt having been sick and all this travelling – I look like a total mess.

Anyhow. Finally that meeting is over, and it’s time for my vitamin C. This is where it gets really ridiculous. The doctor insists I drink water, go to the bathroom, and rince my arm in warm water. And she keeps saying this over and over, so Bro-in-law translates it to me over and over. And I’m like, “yeah, I’ve don’t this a million times already – okay, 15 times”.

So Zsolt’ sis & bro-in-law leave because this is all on their lunch break and they need to get back to work. It’s just me and the nurses who come along to give me the infusion. There are two nurses, who seem like lovely people but are utterly incapable at this infusion thing. They have me sit in a lounge chair with no arms on which I can rest my arm. And they try to get me to let them use my elbow vein. But i’m like, “no way, you need to use my hand” and that freaks them out even more. There are two of them, and they are doing everything together – checking my veins, going over to the heater and turning it on because it’s damn cold in the room, coming back, going off together to microwave my gel pack (which I bought the day before), coming back.

Eventually they try a vein in my hand. Unfortunately, they didn’t get it. But they don’t even try again. Instead they say, “We need to go and get the doctor.” They say it in Hungarian, but ‘doktor’ is easy to understand.

So – one poke, and they go get the doctor. Except the doctor is busy (not that they tell me that, they tell me nothing), and I’m sitting in that room alone for about 45 minutes. FINALLY the doctor comes in, but she doesn’t want to use my hand veins. She wants to use my elbow. I am SO fed up, that I say fine, use the elbow.

So she does. It eventually goes in, because it’s a really hard vein, and they start the drip.

Okay, so there are two bags. The nurse tells me about one hour, so I reckon I’ll be done in one hour. I call up Zsolt (his Dad drove back up from Pecs to drive us down to Pecs after the appointment since Zsolt was sick earlier) and tell him to get over to the place (since he is feeling better) because I’m alone in a room with no way of calling for help if it were needed.

About an hour later, the bag appears to be done, and Zsolt and his Dad arrive. I sit up, thinking this is all over and am ready to go. Except the nurse comes in and says there’s another bag. My sitting up has shifted the needle without my realization that it was out of the vein. The nurse hooks up the second bag, leaves, and I say to Zsolt, “This doesn’t feel right.”

And it wasn’t right, because the needle wasn’t in my vein at all, and the drip is just going into my arm. Soon I notice the damn bubble under my skin – tell Zsolt to turn off the drop and go get the nurse, which he does. The nurse comes in and removes the needed. Then, we collectively agree that this is enough for today, and I’m getting the hell out of there.

So, I did about 25 grams of Vitmain C. I guess that’s better than nothing. On Friday I hope to God it goes better. Zsolt says that this is a women’s clinic, and they hardly ever do infusions, which is why they are so nervous. Maybe it would have been better to get this done in Vienna. It was miserable, no joking. I am hoping that next Friday I can help them more with how to do the infusion with Zsolt’s translation.

Zsolt is much better now. He says his illness was much like what happened several years ago when we were living in England and he had a fever out of nowhere. We’re back in Pecs now, I slept in till 10 and had breakfast in bed. It has restored my sanity, though I am not looking forward to Friday when we drive back up for another infusion. BUT my life is important and I guess that means tolerating some nervous nurses and a whole lot of Hungarian I don’t understand.

;p So, I am doing my best over here. Though I do miss home 🙂

And there is a very long answer to  your question 🙂

Love,
Catherine”

The Pill, LuluLemon, and My Soap Box

Posted in Bumpboobs by

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.