Category Archives: Bumpboobs

Shesconnected Toronto 2012

Posted in Blogging and Other Fun, Bumpboobs, Life, Writing by

Okay I’m just a little bit giddy this evening. It may be due to having been awake since 4.30 AM, but that normally results in my being more ‘zombie like’ rather than ‘totally stoked’.

This weekend I have the privilege of speaking on the Facing Cancer Together panel at the Shesconnected Toronto conference. This place is like my networking dream come true. Firstly it’s full of interesting and smart women. Secondly everyone GETS IT:  sometimes I go to local networking events in Ottawa, which are actually really excellent except that no one understands what social media is about. Blogs, twitter, facebook (and a million others) leave people stumped. So okay, that’s fine as in there’s no competition for social media in that group of successful women, but I do appreciate companies that appreciate what a blogger or social media person can do.  (I’m not going to go into what we can do right now, but it’s largely about relationship building and sharing stories – bringing that all back to the brand)

Anyhow. The train pulls in this morning around 10 AM after a four and a half hour ride from Ottawa. I attempted several sleeping poses on the train including the pretzel, the slouch, the sit back, the fist stack and your classic window lean. (Maybe I slept 20 minutes.) I boot it to the hotel with my luggage, drop my stuff, splash my face – and BAM! I’m down at the conference before you can say “YippiDoDah” six times backwards.

This conference is a mix of brands that love the social media or want to develop themselves in that line of marketing (blogging, tweeting, etc.ing) and bloggers who generally have an established, interactive and impressive audience.

[Bumpyboobs’ side note: my audience may not be huge, but you are all so very impressive – which is why I love to follow your stories too; you get me laughing, thinking and enjoying the good company.]

There are also new bloggers, and companies only just getting started with the social media. Basically it’s about learning and connecting with the women and the brands.

Right – five “HadOdIppiys” later and I’m at the FacingCancer.ca booth greeting the awesome ladies of the Fc.ca, Look Good Feel Better and the CCTFA community. Everyone is in a perfectly lovely and happy mood, and there is no stress whatsoever about completely lost signage that is somewhere in Toronto with the delivery guy who failed to deliver. None whatsoever. 😉 (But it did show up eventually, and oh my goodness our booth looks beautiful!)

I decide not to be super supportive, and instead drop my stuff and go walk around the conference. The conference was really cool; in the course of five minutes I’d hunted out a brand I was curious to meet – they are called Elephoto, and they are quite possibly going to feed into my photobooking /  photocalendering / photomugging / and  photokeychaining addiction in the future. They’re a Canadian company, so I can skip the over-the-border charges, plus they seem quite good quality. Anyhow, we’ll see how that goes. I have this weird love of printing – whether it be books (see my MA baby here), pictures, or business cards, and the sight and touch of high quality paper strikes me deeply with satisfaction.

Weird, or what?  That’s like having a G-rated fetish.  If I can meet some Moo.com reps tomorrow, then my weekend will be complete.

But anyhow! Between the talks on social media, I did go back to the Facing Cancer Together booth to hang out, and cheer them on when the banners and goodies finally did arrive. And while standing there bloggers would come up and inevitably be ask if they had heard of the Look Good Feel Better program, and told about this new intitative of online support called FacingCancer.ca – some ladies just take a pamphlet and say thanks. Others stop for a moment – and if they stop, even for a moment, then you know they have story to share.

Every time I popped back to the booth, there was another woman letting us know how cancer has touched her life, or the lives of those she cares about. Every single time. Which only confirms how important it is to have these conversations, and share the message that support is out there – actually, it’s right here. . . and it’s available for everyone, even if ‘supports groups’ aren’t your thing.

Anyhow. Tomorrow is the panel at 4 pm where we’ll discuss online communities and finding support, plus why blogging is awesome for your well-being. It will be a day full of talks, and hopefully full of interactions and introductions.

It is such a good conference, and like I’ve said, I’m really so happy to be here.

Compassion, Cabbage & Cramps

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Life, Love by

Cramps suck! This morning as Zsolt and I were on a mission to buy organic free-range eggs from the local Loblaws, I began to feel a pressure inside my abdomen. At this point I distinctly remember passing a diner filled with Sunday-morning patrons, all of whom were enjoying the Sunday 3.95 breakfast. Zsolt was astonished that the restaurant was so crazy full, with more and more people coming down the sidewalk to go in, but I told him that in Canada breakfast is a big deal, and we honour this meal with a special Sunday observance and marked down menu prices. So we were off to get some eggs, and maybe a bag of rice because I bought a cabbage in the market yesterday for one dollar, so my mind is all, “you gotta make cabbage layer!” while my body is all: “you’re not going to do anything productive today!” and it let me know this just as we were passing a diner.

Anyhow, that’s when it started. I don’ t know about you, but I’ve got different sorts of periods aches . . . some are about a sore back, some are about the ovaries being tender, this one . . . I don’t know what it’s about, but I do know it’s damn painful.

Starting slowly, this pressure built up and up till by the time we’d crossed the intersection toward Loblaws, it was sharp and radiating from my front to back. Lord.

So I say to Zsolt: “we need to turn around.” And he offeres no protests – instead we turned around, and he rubs my back as we walk back toward the flat.

Finally we reach the flat and I’m relieved. Sometimes this stuff becomes so intense I think I might pass out, but then I never actually do pass out  – because I generally hit the bed in time. Actually, this threatening lack of consciousness is mostly about the anxiety, because when this radiating of pain starts to happen, I just think “What the frack is my body doing?!” And the worst starts to creep across my thoughts . . . so no matter how many deep breaths I’m trying to take, they all end up short and tense, thus the sensation of passing out. Basically, I have mini panic attacks because I don’t want to get sick again, and it’s hard to trust the body after the shit it put me through already.

On the other hand, if this is what it takes to have a baby and know the process is working – then okay, great. But who knows? I only hope.

Anyhow, we get back to the flat and here is the entire point to my post: We get back, and Zsolt is incredible. He puts on the kettle and gets out the hot water bottle as I crawl into bed. He makes me a cup of tea. He comes into the bedroom and rubs my back a little, then sits next to me as I clutch the water bottle and strokes my bare leg. Then after maybe an hour passes, he tops up my tea and defrosts the chicken soup – bringing it to me in bed on a tray.

Ah. Today my man took good care of me. I guess over the past several years, he’s learnt ‘how best to comfort my wife’ and when the pain was throwing me into panic, he was remaining calm and attentive. It was reassuring.

I really think that before medicine comes love. Love knows you’re scared, it sits with you, and it wraps you in its warmth. Today Zsolt was so very good at taking care of me, and I’m so very thankful for that.

As for the cramps, I’m not in pain like before but am totally knackered and rather uncomfortable. However, while at the grocery store today ( A different grocery store, not Loblaws and no organic eggs. This was much later in the day after several hours in bed I went to a friend’s place to watch people bake. Part of this experience involved going to the shop to get the missing ingredients),  my period cramps were thrown into perspective as the lady at the till was pregnant and suffering pregnancy pains. She was bending over and trying to breath, saying she felt like passing out. When I asked if the store couldn’t at least get her a stool, she said that she’d asked and they said they didn’t have one – so this women is checking out items and obviously suffering. Where was the love from her store? I don’t know and I’m sorry it was lacking. It just seemed totally wrong.

After that I decided that I’m lucky regardless of cramps or whatever; I’m just lucky to have been given what I needed when I needed it most. A little compassion goes a long, long way.

FIVE AM insight

Posted in Bumpboobs, Life, Writing by

It’s an obscene time of the day, five in the morning – and maybe for some of you that’s normal wake up time, but for me it’s more like “wake up now and be punished later with exhaustion” sorta timing. But nevertheless here I am at my computer sitting in the front room of my new apartment (in the dark with the street light outside giving me an orange glow) and writing to you. Because I’ve woken myself up with all kinds of stupidity, and if I don’t get this out then I’m never going to sleep.

Okay. Here is the thing. It’s so incredibly stupid. I’ve woken myself up all because of this blog. Or maybe not exactly the blog. I love blogging, I love writing, I love having a place that’s mine to share and tell stories. What I don’t love is cancer.

Bumpyboobs started over two years ago and she has been a sanity-saver. (Like Tupperware, the fresh saver – it kept my sanity from going stale.) It began with my wondering what the bump in my boob was all about. It started because I was worried and frightened and couldn’t talk with anyone about those feelings . . . and oh  my god, I was in serious need of talking.

So that’s how she began. And then the bump became F*ing cancer, and then this blog took on proper meaning. It’s weird to say this, but because I was diagnosed with cancer – this blog had a purpose. It felt like my story suddenly became special.

Cancer, in its way, made me special. It set me apart. It made me a writer. It gave me an audience. And oh my god, I love the people I’ve met through Bumpyboobs and the stories we have shared, and I will most certainly continue to love those stories and read those blogs and follow people’s lives as the keep moving forward. But what the fuck – cancer made me special?

So now it’s 2.5 years later and I’m clear of any signs of this disease. My hair is so long it’s past my chin. When I meet people for the first time, cancer never comes up – it’s not even because I’m hiding that part of my story, it’s simply because it doesn’t come up. Thank GOD I moved past the urge to tell every single person about how I had cancer. There was a time when I needed to do that, because it was so fucking painful and so fucking scary. (Actually, it’s still entirely fucking scary. And I think about people who have said, ‘I’m done with defining myself by cancer’ and still had recurrence in the end  . . . but is constantly wearing the ‘cancer patient’ badge any better? Does it protect me any more from the chances of recurrence? I’m kinda afraid that if I turn my back on cancer then it will come back, but I’m also kinda afraid that if I don’t turn my back on cancer . . . that I’ll never move forward.)

Okay.

So that’s where my head is, and I woke up in bed and thought to myself – I need to rename my blog, I need to rebrand this sucker so that I don’t have to be about cancer all the time. The posts themselves are often not about the C-word. They have been about friends in England, navigating hard and good times with my husband, honouring my grandmother, immigrating to Canada, living with my parents and trying to find work, travelling and feeling so happy, drinking tea by the gallon, and enjoying the little things in life – also, the best things in life and just sharing those experiences with you.

You want to know who my current personal heroes are?

Margaret Atwood for all her generosity with her audience and her immense talent in her storytelling.

Felicia Day for making Geek Culture so damn cool, producing her own series, NOT being defined by what the world was willing to give her (which were mostly mousy secretary roles rather than awesome-heroine-ass-kicking roles like she’s created for herself).

Lena Dunham for making her amazing series GIRLS, acting and writing a role that rings true across so many experiences, and for being so damn talented and capable.

Jane Austen for always giving her characters happiness and love, and for being damn witty and far more talented than many huge writers of her era.

Lucy Maud Montgomery for the stories she created that were always so hopeful, and the lessons on writing she shared – particularly in her Emily series.

And none of this has to do with cancer. Of course I admire the women who are battling the disease and pushing forward (and the men, and the children too) . . . but my heroes take on a different sorta theme.

Oh man. This post is getting long. It’s 5.30 AM!

Here is my problem which I need to figure out: What is my story? What makes me special if it isn’t cancer? Why would anyone read this blog if it’s aimless and without a goal?

There are mommy bloggers, fashion bloggers, city bloggers, food bloggers . . . okay, I love moms, and food, and beautiful clothing – but I am not any of these categories, and as for lifestyle blogging –that’s a vague term, isn’t it? Should I be writing more about my IKEA decorating, putting flowers in vases and making my rooms look beautiful? (Actually I can’t do that anyhow, because truth be told is that the flowers die and I forget to throw them out, and after sewing all these sofa slipcovers, I’ll be happy to never see another sewing machine in my life.)

What’s my story now? Please goodness, don’t let it be all about cancer. But if it’s not about that – then what? And maybe if I can’t answer that in a nice packaged statement, then I need to really get my head on straight.

One thing I never say, but is true, is that while I am a writer, what I really want to be is a novelist.   I want to write stories and share them in different mediums. I also want to work in a library and walk to work and help people enjoy their days. I want to indulge in simple pleasures. I want to figure out what my thirties are any good for. I want to talk about the lines on my face and how my expression seems more tired when I look in the mirror. I want to take one of my good ideas and actually turn it into something real. I want to have a message . . . and yet, I haven’t got a clue what that might be.

Anyhow, we’ll see what comes from all of this. If you’ve read this far then I applaud you for making it past 1000 words – cause this is one long unresolved ‘too-early-in-the-morning-and-I-am-going-back-to-bed’ post.

Thank you for sharing your time with me.

Good night.