Category Archives: Life

Posted in Bumpboobs, Life, Life despite cancer, Love by

I went skinny dipping. It’s great. It’s like when I first discovered not wearing a bra was far more comfortable than wearing a bra – and hence ditched my bras almost all together. (Resulting in my true form ‘flat as a pancake’ being rocked daily. The mastectomy certainly helps with this look.)

My parents have a pool, and for a long time I’ve though how lovely it would be to skip the uncomfortable bathing suit and just jump in – but never went for it. Well, as I was in one of those ‘f-k it’ moods lately, and since no one was home at my parents except Zsolt and I, and because the weather has been so crazy warm . . . I just went for a swim a la nude. It was beautiful.

You know that cold dread of getting out of the pool, as you towel off while the suit you are wearing clings and chills your skin? That sticky resistance as you try to pull it off, after having stepping into the air conditioned house where the cold air hits hard against the cloth of your damp suit? Well there’s none of that when you’re butt naked in the backyard, drying off with your towel.

And when you swim through the water, there’s really no resistance. It’s just slip and dip.

So from now on, whenever possible, I’m gonna swim a la natural. It’s just better this way.

This too, is one off my reminders that life isn’t all cancer. It’s hard, because my mind and body seem to be trying to convince me otherwise. I wake up in the morning thinking about scans and appointments and whether anything will every work. I think about slipping through the cracks of a system. I think about mortality and final days and fighting and sleeping. I think about my eyes and their warped sight  . . . and such. I wake up every morning and some nights stuck with these thoughts, and they sink deep into me, making everything heavy. And I have to pull myself out somehow – it’s not always so easy – pull myself out to be here in the moment, here today, living now.

Things like skinny dipping help with that. So does going to the river in Packenham (where Z and I were married seven years ago in the church there) this past weekend, and putting our feet into the flowing water – watching as schools of tiny fish swim up to investigate our toes. (eep!) That helps pull me out too.

Last night we watched our wedding video. The ceremony was lovely, and vows reminded me that not everything has gone wrong. Yes, life is threatened, yes we are frustrated, and yes, I deeply regret not having had children – but in listening to the vows, I remember  we made promises that have been kept and held as precious. We have and hold though good and bad, through sickness and health, through rick and poor – we have been an amazing married couple. And though I sometimes feel as though I’m failing, particularly as the cancer spreads, I must remember that we are in fact blessed.

Every day when we get to find our ‘in the moment’ joys, we really truly succeed. But also, when we hold each other and cry, and when the doctor gives bad news, we still shine through. He’s my husband and my life is a slice of satisfaction thanks to our relationship.

Anyhow, there’s a wandering post where I am sorting out my emotions. Depression vs skinny dipping, love vs expectation, good times and deep pits of sad.

Today we are outside in the backyard, and the pool is waiting. There are no scans this week, or tests, or results. And I will try my best to be Catherine the normal, with her husband Zsolt the loving – and later this day, will jump in that pool buck naked once again.

 

 

Anticipation

Posted in Bumpboobs, Life, Life despite cancer, Radiotherapy Treatment, Treatment by

All I really want to do is look at beautiful things (like spring) and talk with wonderful people. I’d also love to go to Lake Balaton and have a wine spritzer by the water, while the sun sets across the water. And I’d like if there was a ‘forget this all’ pill that I could take for a few days.

Truth is, it would be easier if I could leave my emotions and thoughts behind, and just do what I really want to do. With all that is going on, the emotions don’t make this easy, so instead as I feel frustrated and sad, I daydream of things I’d like to do.

So let’s see…

I’d like to smile more for my husband, so he feels like everything is alright. 🙂

I’d like to sleep really, really well. Sleep like someone who is on vacation and feeling so safe.

I’d like to look in the mirror and see myself clearly.

I’d like to dance all night, outside, with friends and some great candle light. No mosquitoes!

I’d like to listen to Cat Stevens and Eric Clapton, which I’m actually doing – so there’s one realized!

I’d like to go shopping for summer dresses.

I’d like to have energy! That will come. Not for a while, yet.

I’d like to eat something deeply delicious.

I’d like a gluten-free grilled cheese sandwich from The Red Door (in Ottawa). To be done.

I’d like a non-dramatic, yet highly fun kids book to read.

I’d like to make something cool.

I’d like to pet a dog to which I’m not allergic. And give it a big hug. And then it can take a nap with me 🙂

I’d like to go to the Farmer’s Market and pick out beautiful food – and I’d like to bike there and back, too!

I’d like to do very little, and yet still accomplish something wonderful.

I’d like to learn how to paint with oil. (And I guess, l learn how to paint at all!)

I’d like to play the piano. Christmas music, specifically.

I’d like to sail on the Queen Mary.

I’d like to go for a picnic in the common.

I’d like to sing. (Which I do, but you know, it should be done more)

I’d like to sit in a kayak and marvel at the water.

I’d like to realize that I feel 100% myself again. I love those vivid moments of self that sneak up on you; when suddenly you are at your shining best, doing what you love, feeling in that ‘impossible to perfectly arrange but wonderful to realize’ way.

Ever feel that way – when you’re just living life and suddenly everything is so very right? Maybe it’s in the garden . . . or walking to the shop . . . or the touch of a warm breeze on a gorgeous day . . . or the way a dress brushes against your legs . . . or the first taste of a cool drink . . . or the sight of someone special walking towards you . . . and you know you are 100% yourself, 100% your most, in that moment.

I’d like that.

While life shouldn’t depend upon anticipation, sometimes it is a very important sustaining factor.

P.S. Things I get to do everyday:

See my amazing husband. Enjoy the company of my family. Think about friends and those far away. Be taken care of – and right now that is a BIG deal. Nap. So you know, it’s not all horrible stuff – it’s just . . . I can’t help daydreaming of the better days, which include these things, and so much more.

 

 

Age vs Beauty, and Sally Field …

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

Beauty_is_as_beauty_does

The other day I was watching the View. I’m on leave from work, and I guess when you are on leave watching ladies chat about pop culture and American politics is a thing that just happens naturally. Honestly, they kind of drive me crazy (because I’d like to argue with them, but end up arguing with the TV screen. Then my mother, working in the other room, says ‘who are you talking to? And I have to  admit that it’s no one.), but if I don’t watch something I have trouble remembering to eat my banana for breakfast.

Anyhow, Sally Field appeared on the show to promote her film Hello My Name is Doris. Apparently it’s good, according to her and the ladies at the table. I believe them. From this chat, Sally Field was asked about gender and age in Hollywood. She shared some insightful remarks about trends and actions and ideas without follow through. I was impressed with her experienced perspective. But one little thing really caught me, and it continues to make me think.

While discussing age and Hollywood, the ladies of the view were letting Sally know how darn good she looked – ‘You look 35!’ says Joyce Beher, a View host. I know that is meant as a compliment, but it immediately strikes me as a sad juxtaposition against the words that Sally had literally just spoken. Sally Field is smart and productive and beautiful.

“What the heck was that?” I say to the TV screen.

Does she look 35? No.

Should she look 35? No.

Does Joyce’s comment inadvertently imply that whatever age Sally is at this moment isn’t an age to be honoured?

Yep.

And what’s sad is that is really how our culture has been trained to think, not just Joyce Beher. We attach beauty to age – with an emphasis on ‘anti-aging’, when the two things needn’t have a damn thing to do with one another.

People who are beautiful in my life:

My mother; my father; My mother-in-law, my father-in-law, my brother’s partners, my brothers, my best friend and her husband, my sister and brother in law, the inspiring library ladies who I worked with in both Southampton and Rosemount, the women of my old book club and writing group, the children of my cousins (and my lovely cousins too!), all the babies I adore to see on Facebook, my husband, my grandmother, my husband’s grandmother….

There are so many beautiful people in the world, and the more I come to meet and know them, the more incredible they are in my mind.

How old are all the people I just listed? It doesn’t matter one bit. They are a range of ages and experiences. They are a rainbow of eye colours, hair types, tan lines, wrinkles, scars, and smiles.

Beauty is not age. And the moment we say ‘you look half your age’ I think we discount the value of perspective, wisdom and credit earned within a lifetime, as well as how wrinkles add kindness to a face, and grey hair is lovely, and stretch marks are accomplishments. (etc)

Age before beauty? Beauty before age?

In my mind the two do not compete.

Beauty is as beauty does.