Category Archives: Finding Home

Human vs Squirrel

Posted in Canada, Finding Home, Fun, Life by

This started late last week, but if I really think about it – it’s been going on for quite some time. I’d look out the back porch door window at the fire escape stairs and see them hopping up and down the steps. It was fun to watch. Squirrels going up and down during the winter. It’s a glimpse of urban wildlife, like spotting a raccoon or getting to know the neighbourhood cats.

Then about two weeks ago the gutter came crashing down in the middle of the night. The BANG woke us up for about two minutes before we fell back asleep. (Thank God it wasn’t a burgular, geez.) Apparently – according to my landlord – the gutter had simply rotted away, and it needs to be replaced by a professional.

squirrelAnyhow, that’s all back story.

Early last week I was outside on my back apartment-building-porch, enjoying this amazing weather. With weather this good, I take the mobile phone outside and do my social media’ing’ from there in my $10 Sobeys grocery store chair. It works really well.

Anyhoo, I’m on the back porch when a squirrel makes its way down the stairs above me. So I did what you do – I stood up and stomped my foot, thinking the squirrel would bolt. Except it didn’t. The little bugger came at me! Or not at me, but it came toward me, so I’m up and jumping around, and it’s up and jumping around, and I’m like “OH Sh8T this squirrel must have rabies to be this crazy!” and basically hug the wall, when it – thank God again – ran past me and somehow disappeared.

At this point I began calling out for Zsolt, since for some reason that’s my gut reaction in a situation of panic.

Eventually I settled back into my $10 chair, and then promptly left again when I heard more little noises I couldn’t place. I had crazy squirrel fear.

THEN just the other day, Zsolt informs me that we have a family of black squirrels living under my spice planter that has been sitting around since last summer. Apparently, according to Big Z, they just moved in and he has been watching them run in and out. The potter has a gap in the bottom so it could, in theory, sit on a railing.

Four teenage squirrels, who were obviously birthed in the apartment roof, had moved onto our porch. And for some reason, none of these squirrels have learned fear. They are freaking fearless. The cats don’t even chase them!

But you can’t keep squirrels on your porch, can you? One second they are all cute looking, and the next they are reminding me of black rats with long tails. Normally I’m cool with squirrels because they show respectful fear and avoidance. But not this little pack, oh no, they have no fear.

So, we decided to bust up their little nest. Putting on his tall green rain boots and carrying the broom, Zsolt carefully snuck around behind the planter on the porch, and tipped the thing over. They ran outta there.

But here is the problem. They still have the family home in the roof. I don’t want to be responsible for a bunch of dead squirrels if the pest control is called in. But I also really want to be able to go outside and not freak out with every little noise or ambush of black bushy tail.

Therefore, we are keeping the broom on hand at all moments, and Zsolt has been repeatedly running outside with it chasing them down the porch stairs and out of the yard.

I’m not actually convinced this is working, but we will see.

And that is yet another adventure from the land of apartment rentals.

Anyone know of some non-killing squirrel deterrents? Maybe we need to adopt an owl?

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

Riding the train in Hungary

Posted in Finding Home, Life by

I sometimes wonder if Hungarians realise how lucky they are to be riding the train. It may be one of the slowest services in Europe but on a bright day when the cabin windows are down and the green and yellow fields seem to roll along endlessly, I can’t imagine a better way to travel. Zsolt and I have started our week of train traveling. First to Erd, later through Budapest, and then onto Prague. We read and look out the window. We travel through long tunnels in total darkness as the wheels scream. We listen and watch as old men hit on groups of teenage girls. We sweat in the sunshine and breath the enveloping warmth.

And in between it all my mind thinks about stories and my fingers get to writing.

So here is what is on my mind:

Yesterday we meet one of Zsolt’s high school friends for some ice cream downtown. Let’s call him The Big Man, because he’s tall and wide like a superhero. The Big Man is a guy who always looks like he is on the go, crusing for ladies and making important deals. Yesterday when we met, he showed up in a dark leather jacket and wore mirrored sunglasses even though it was about twenty-five degrees outside.

Anyhow, we meet with TBM and after some chatting I did not understand (whenever Zsolt and TBM meet, there is a lot of Hungarian spoken. I think they talk about women and life – but who knows?), we went off for some ice cream.

Here is something you’d never expect: Zsolt’s highschool buddy, TBM had a stroke three years ago this Sunday. That stroke took away his ability to speak and walk – everything had to relearned. But you wouldn’t know it to look at him today. And I guess since that happened (right around the time I was diagnosed with cancer) I’ve seen him as a different person – not as anyone less impressive, but certainly as someone more relatable.

And yesterday TBM said something that made him seem even more normal.

Even though he comes off looking successful and confident . . . not all is well. He’s looking for work, as are so many these days. When I asked him (since his English is excellent), “If you could do anything or be anything, what what you do or be?”

He replied, “That’s the problem, I don’t know. I could lie and make something up, but the truth is that I don’t know. I feel purposeless.”

It’s hard to get anywhere when you don’t know where you are going. But on the other hand, not all who wander are lost. I don’t know when the window of finding yourself closes in society, but I reckon it ought to stay open as long as needed, and then reopened again and again to air out our lives and take in fresh perspectives.

But to feel purposeless is a heavy thing. I wouldn’t have suspected it since TBM really does come off as a ‘big man’ in more than just the physical sense – he’s just somehow impressive.

So there you have it. Everyone has their struggles, from physical challenges like strokes, growth spurts, back pains, losing breasts, etc., and everyone has personal challenges too. So the next time I look upon someone with defensive judgement (because I have an instinctual distrust toward people who seem too cool), I will try to remember TBM and the vulnerability he so honestly shared.

And that’s all I have to say about that.