Category Archives: Canada

Am I not paying enough attention to cancer?

Posted in advanced cancer, Bumpboobs, Canada, Finding Home, letting go, Life, Love, Novels and Stories, Writing by

Okay, so yesterday I spent my entire Friday in front of the computer webcam making a video. It was a heck of a lot of work for something that is totally basic – but there was the editing, the lack of a script (my dad taught me in elementary school to never public speak using a written script . . . so instead we’d write points and I’d talk around those ideas . . . and then in high school during my debating club days, it was the same situation. So yesterday, I figured I’d ‘go natural’ and just talk. Four hours later . . .), and then of course the editing of my rambles. But it was SO worth it. The final result is open and honest, even if not fancy. I reckon open and honest come first when asking people to fund your project.

Okay, so the reality is that in preparing for this kickstarter campaign, even though I’m a wee bit overwhelmed with its growing requirement of commitments and work, it’s freaking FUN.

I’m having fun.

And it was realizing that last week that scared the crap outta me.

During an interview with a fabulous local blog, Apt613, on the kickstarter book project, I was asked about how I could jump into such a big project with the news I’d just received? You know, where do I find the energy? And my only answer for that was that this is my energy because it’s my joy. I’m also kinda worried about what happens next once this goal is realized (with your help!). Where does that energy go?

And then the other day a neighbour said to my mom that she’d “heard your daughter isn’t doing well.” Which is fine, and so understandable. Except that I am doing well. For someone in my situation, I’m able to walk, there’s been no chemo as of yet, I have my hair, my energy is good, I can breathe . . . I am doing very well.

Screenshot!

Screenshot!

But having had these questions, they must have lingered in the back of my mind or something, because the other day I had a big pause moment where a feeling of panic suddenly overcame me:

  • Am I in denial?
  • Am I not thinking about the cancer often enough?
  • Is it going to blindside me again, because I’m not paying enough attention?
  • How often should this be on my mind, should I be scared? Like, right now and today, should I have fear?

Because when I work on my book publishing goal, those feelings . . . that fear . . . it kinda just turns off. Is it a good thing? Or am I being naive?

Last week I had a coaching session with this lovely lady named Camille Boivin. She’s from Ottawa and I work with her for her company Sister Leadership. Anyhow, Cam is full of generosity and a desire to help people connect with their emotions and ambitions. And when the cancer came back, we started working together not as client and writer, but as coach and person-who-needs-some-emotional-work-done. (That’s me.)

So last week in our session I was talking about this anger I’d been feeling. And somehow that discussion of anger turned toward a discussion of sadness. Because along with that anger, I was feeling deeply sad (and still do sometimes, like when I realized last week I wasn’t feeling shitty enough). So we honed in on that sadness. Cam asked me to look back over my life when I’ve felt similar feelings of sadness.

*In this case of metastatic cancer, I’d say the sadness isn’t just about the disease, but more so about potentially leaving my husband behind and hurting my family and friends. The idea is completely crushing.

So I began thinking back in time when I’d felt feelings of loss and sadness. School graduations. Ends of summers working abroad. Moving to a new country. Saying goodbye at airport. Leaving a beloved workplace. Losing my golden retriever . . .

And then Cam asked me this: “If you could go back with what you know now, what would you tell yourself in those moments of sadness?”

And I said to her, “that even though it hurt, good things were coming . . . and love doesn’t stop just because you are separated. The love keeps on going.”

Because from school graduations came new schools, clubs and friends (and I just attended the wedding of my first friend ever – we may not be together always, but the love stays); end of the summer working abroad brought me back home where I found a bookstore job and made more friends there (though I’ll always love the Jasper Kids from 2002);  In moving to a new country I left my family and best friend, but learned oh so much about being independent and made such incredible friendships with people who I still carry in my heart even after returning to Canada; saying goodbye at the airport always means I get to say hello to someone on the other end; leaving my work gave time and space for me to become a writer; and losing my dog – well, that still hurts but the love doesn’t fade. Not one bit.

So I guess if I could go back to those moments when I felt that sadness, I would just tell myself that I’m not leaving the love and by moving forward more good things are going to happen.

Since that conversation I’ve felt a lot less angry, a lot less sad. I’ve been to doctor appointments, blood draws, chemo wards, searching for clinical studies, urine samples, meds from the pharmacy, acupuncture . . . but I’m not grieving the Catherine of four months ago who was almost certain she was cancer-free.

Today I am here, and I’d rather run forward toward whatever good can be created. This kickstarter is part of that. Being proactive in my health is part of that. Not being sad has been a result of those reflections.

Is it normal? Will it stay forever? Is it denial? Is it really because I haven’t met with Dr. Canada? I just don’t know.

How often should I think of the cancer, and will it do me any good? Again, I just don’t know.

It’s so strange to wonder if I’m not fearful enough. I also realize I’m new to metastatic cancer, and therefore incredibly naive to its realities. Is there a right way to cope? I would actually really appreciate hearing other people’s experiences with this fear vs. life thing – is there any use in holding fear close? I’ve been happier this past week than I’ve been for a while, and that is quite precious in these times.

Anyhow. That’s all I have to say about that.  Now, back to work!

~Catherine

P.S.

To not overwhelm you with blog posts, I’m going to slip in the second excerpt from The Adventures of Claire Never-Ending. Meet Elizabeth (Amelia’s mother) and read her story here! If you want to sign up for an email notification when the project launches, you can do so here.

liz

Making Circles and Plans and Circles and Plans

Posted in Canada, Fertility, Finding Home, Life, Love by

It’s hard to be caught between two long-distance families. It’s hard not only for us, but also for the people we leave behind with each plane ride back to that slippery concept of “home.”

Yesterday evening Zsolt, his mother and I were at the kitchen table looking at some stitching she had done. Anna is very creative, and she’s been working on a beautiful pillow case of red flowers. It’s taken her several months to stitch, on and off as she watches television in the evening.

Anna Stitching Hungarian

Anyhow, there we were yesterday evening. The dinner had been put away, and we were sitting at the table just talking, which is a bit of a rarity since normally it’s a choice between playing cards, watching a movie, or me escaping to our upstairs bedroom where I can watch some English webseries and chill out.  Frankly, I’m not a fan of the movies, and while the games are fun I get tired of them easily,but talking . . . talking is very, very interesting. Even if it’s all in Hungarian.

Anna was telling us about all kinds of things. One was that she had wanted to be an architect, but ended up in banking instead because her parents thought she was too skinny to do the co-op necessary for architecture that took place on a construction site. (She says she could have done it, but her parents worried she could not.) And so she studied accounting instead and ended up working at a bank.

Interesting no? I’m accustom to seeing my mother-in-law as a mother. Cooking, caring, and fussing all the time – that’s what I see. I’ve never met the young woman who had aspired to design buildings and dared to get married in a miniskirt. But I bet we would have gotten along, had we been able to understand one another.

And then she said what somewhat struck an even deeper chord within me. Anna related that back when she had children, (back when she was working 12 hour days at the bank, coming home late at night and only seeing her kids on the weekend – it was communism in Hungary back then, very work-focused rather than family-centric. . . had she been given the choice, I suspect she would have stayed at home more often) – back when she had children, she had wished they’d hurry along and grow up already. And now that she is older with far more time, she kinda wishes the reverse, that they could go back to being kids again.

I guess it’s empty nest and missed opportunities. And it made me feel a little bit frustrated with our own lack of children. We never talk about the baby stuff with Zsolt’s parents. They understand we need to wait before trying. But part of me would love to scoop up all those grandmotherly vibes and pour them over my own kids. I feel as though there’s a circle of life here, and we’re missing an essential loop.

Because really, Zsolt is never going to be four years old again. And, I reckon, instead of wishing him back to childhood, it should be wished that he become one heck of an amazing man, which he is – supportive, loving, caring, and growing; I think that her loneliness is more a result of family being far away, then her children no longer being children. At least, that is my guess.

Of course, I’ve known for a very long time that Anna sees Zsolt as her little boy. It makes all the sense in the world. She’s so full of love, and it’s the sort of thing that needs to be passed forward. But at the same time, I shouldn’t worry about her empty nesting, should I? That’s her journey to navigate. Though it is still a little heartbreaking.

Children grow up, parents step back, and families continue in a way that spreads outward rather than closing back inwards. It’s a theme I’ve written about in this blog, and loads in my fiction – and to be honest, since leaving Canada those many, many years ago for England and therefore taking my first steps ‘outward’, I have been just a little bit heart-broken. Once you step ‘out’ you can’t step back ‘in’.

Kids won’t solve long distance. But that’s not why I want to have children. I simply feel like we’re ready. It’s time. Let’s continue the circle. And not for the grandparents, though they are in my heart too, but because it’s right, and Zsolt & I want it. And frankly, we’ve got a whole lot of love to pass forward as well.

So, I’m counting down. April in Hungary. Then May in Canada. Scans at the hospital in June. If all goes well, then I need to wait three more months before trying. And then we try. And then we see.

And I have no idea what will happen next.

The Coolness & Tragic End of Antoine Legros

Posted in Canada, Life, Novels and Stories by

There are some amazing stories that slip away into the past. But ever since Zsolt’s started digging into our family tree – they just keep popping back up! Today I want to share one of them with  you.

This fellow with the beard is my great-great-great-great grandfather on my father’s side of the family, Antoine Legros dit Lecount (which means, his nick name was ‘Lecount’ – i.e. The Count, a nickname often given to people who were being said to behave in an aristocrat fashion – i.e. overly proud). Antoine was a voyager – he was the man you’d imagine trekking through the pre-Canadian wilderness leading traders, exchanging with first nations, delivering mail between forts, and living off the land. He was contracted by the Hudson Bay Company in exchange for some cash, cotton shirts, shoes, one silk handkerchief and a necklace.

Antoine Legros dit LeCount

Antoine Legros dit LeCount

In short, he was really cool.

Unfortunately, his life was cut short with a double barrel shot gun. It sounds horrible – it is horrible. But one thing that nevertheless remains touching is that in the last moments of his life, he saved his son from a paranoia-crazed English man. Here is that story, taken from the original account of witness, James Bruce in 1840, later to be transcribed into Artic Expeditions (1877) by David Murry Smith.

The Murder of Antoine Legros

“James Bruce and Thomas Simpson were hired by Hudson’s Bay Co. to explore and survey along the north coastline of America between the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans.  They were traveling with a large group of Indians and Metis (mixed-blood). The following incident happened in 1840, the third year of the expedition on the Pembina Trail, Dakota Territory.

In early June Bruce and Simpson left the main camp along with Antoine Legros, Sr., Antoine Legros, Jr. and John Bird; the last three were Metis.  The party of five intended to travel ahead of the main body, arriving at St. Peters quickly.

After a few days of travel, Simpson began complaining of feeling unwell and wanted to return to the Red River Colony.  On June 14, Simpson and the other four men turned back.  Simpson was restless and uneasy and commented that he would never recover from his ailment.  The party traveled until an hour and a half past sundown, arriving within a mile of the Turtle River.

The men then began arranging their camp for the night.  All the accessories of prairie travel surrounded them. Their horses were grazing nearby, and a cart for the outfit occupied the center of the camp. All were armed with guns and pistols, for the Sioux were on the warpath. But within themselves were elements more dangerous than the tomahawks of the savages; only two of the five would ever leave that spot again; for three it was their last camping ground.

Bruce, Bird, and the elder Legros began raising the tent.  With his back to Simpson, Bruce heard a gunshot and turning he saw that Simpson had shot Bird, who groaned and fell to dead.  He then saw Simpson turn and shoot Legros who staggered and fell against the camp cart then fell to the ground.

Immediately Bruce and the younger Legros ran a short distance away to where the horses were tied.  Simpson called out to Bruce asking if he was aware of any intention to kill him (Simpson).  Bruce replied he knew of no such intentions.  Then Simpson said he shot Bird and Legros because they intended to murder him in the night for his papers.

The elder Legros, who was still alive, asked Simpson to allow his son to leave unharmed to which Simpson complied.

Simpson then offered Bruce five hundred pounds to go back with him to Red River Colony and “keep the affair secret”.  He then asked Bruce if he knew the way back to Red River.  When Bruce said he did, Simpson gave the order to harness the horses.

The elder Legros now called to his son to come and embrace him one last time.  It was then that Simpson asked Legros if it was true that he and Bird meant to kill him to which the dying man replied, “No”.

All this time the explorer was standing in the middle of the camp with his gun in his hand.  At this time Bruce and Legros Jr. went to the horses, mounted and rode away to the main camp.   Immediately after arriving they gave the alarm, and joined by five men, returned to the scene of the murders.

Bruce found Simpson dead in the cart, shot in the head with his own gun.  In his report, Bruce stated that Simpson did not display symptoms of insanity.  There were no papers found in Simpson’s belongings indicating a reason for the murders.  Another report suggests Simpson had become a ‘madman’.

The three men were moved to the churchyard in Red River Colony where they were interred in the same grave.

The younger Lecount was never asked to give a statement.”