Category Archives: Life

Stroke-Stroke Glide-Glide

Posted in Bumpboobs, Canada, Finding Home, Fun, Life, Travel, Writing by

We are at the cottage (rental) and I don’t have my drawing pad with me. If I did have the drawing pad, I’d sketch you a doodle of the view from this window. There’s the lake in the background and the green forest of Tar Island, and here just in the foreground are a sparse layering of trees – their trunks are thin at the top (this cottage is set upon a cliff face, and so I’m looking through the tops of these trees), and the branches are tapering to a point, like a very tall Christmas tree or something. Reminds me of a painting I did for my grade six art project. It was a tree trunk, with a branch, and a lake behind with blue sky above.

This is the cottage. We arrived here Thursday evening, and are able to come and go as we like. Tomorrow I’ll be back in town for Canada day. But today we are here. And today it is nice.

Zsolt and I have been making many decisions lately – several of which I am not allowed to talk about. (Which is really, really difficult.) Let’s just say sometimes stuff works and other times stuff really doesn’t work. However, we’re fine and eventually we’ll manage this whole ‘career’ thing. In the meanwhile something good has come from a series of infuriating events, which is (cause I can talk about this, thank freaking goodness) a trip.

Soon Zsolt and I will fly to Hungary for a month. Following that we’ll fly to England and visit friends. After this we’ll take a boat to New York from Southampton (7 night cruise) and hang with family and visit the city. Then we’ll take the train up to Montreal (12 hour trip), where we’ll finally catch a bus back to Ottawa. We’re leaving mid (ish) July and returning September.

I’ll let your imagination create the reasons for our booking this massive, non-refundable trip when neither of us has full-time employment, and then say that while plans can change beyond our control, it is not the case with non-refundable bookings. So the silver lining in all this crappiness is that my husband and I are going on an adventure. And that’s a really awesome silver lining.

When we return, we are 100% determine to move out of my parent’s house – even if it means living in someone else’s basement (hopefully with a separate entrance), and working on getting my man Zsolt into the intellectual property field. He’s got a talent for it. He’ll be even better when working for a company full-time.  (If you know anyone looking for a patent agent trainee, please do let me know.)

And I think everything will be alright. We’re at the cottage today. I’m going to have the first draft of my book finished before we leave for Hungary. (Really I am, I’ve only got like 3000 words left to write before that’s done.) Zsolt is planning to help me turn my Bumpyboobs adventures into mini e-books (woohoo! So then I can make myself a large button to wear that says, “Self-Published Author!”).

And everything is going to be alright.

Everything is going to be alright.

Maybe I should tattoo it onto my forehead, just a reminder. 🙂

As support to this assertion, my mammogram checkout A-Okay. I’m still totally annoyed with the screening situation, but hey – no cancer. Woohooo! Nooooooo Cancer!!

AND, I turn 30 next week.

Plus, the canoe we bought is turning out beautifully. Another big purchase we may never have made  . . . but was inevitably done. (Because I said to Zsolt, if not now, when?) And so we’ve been paddling around this lake at the cottage and the rivers near Ottawa – enjoying the beauty of the area and just stupid happy with every stroke. You know, back in the land of chemotherapy day-dreams, one of my musings was to buy a canoe and just forget about the bullshit. That’s what happens whenever we take it out – it’s not about looking for work, surviving cancer, growing up, staying healthy . . . it’s about stroke-stroke-stroke, and glide-glide-glide.

Right now, for our lives in general, I think we’ll just have to focus on the present. Just stroke-stroke-stroke, and glide-glide-glide.

 

P.S. kudos to Zsolt who is circling me as I post this outside the cottage, killing black flies and keeping me bug-bite free!

 

Happy Father’s Day!

Posted in Life, Love by

Today is father’s day, which mean we’ve spent the entire Sunday eating great food. First there was the truck stop by Arnprior, then we had a BBQ, and then there was a beautiful pavlova. So today’s post is going to be a short one. Really, a million things are happening right now here in the world of Bumpyboobs (i.e. my life) but I have a gag order placed on several of them. You’ll hear more about that later.

In the meanwhile, in honour of father’s day, here’s a list of some top-ten dad moments from my dad, Tony Bony. I am sure there are more, but at the moment, these spring to mind.

  • Dad pulling a giant fish from the water – cursing like a sailor, and smiling like a fool.
  • Dad making me sweet potato French fries after my chemotherapy, when I was so hungry and emotional, it was more than many men could tolerate.
  • Stories after dinner, when he rolls back time and entertains us with something hilarious that happened in his childhood. Our narrative nature must come from his side of the family.
  • Dad giving a speech on the day Zsolt and I were married, basically saying how proud he was, and holding back the tears.
  • Dad as a hippy, which I’ve only witnessed through old photographs.
  • Dad picking me up at 3 am in the middle of nowhere, after I had decided to go for a walk (let’s not worry as to why I was in the middle of nowhere at 3 am.) and not giving me shit until the next morning.
  • Dad coming home from work when I was a little girl sick with a cold and saying, “It’s no fun being sick, eh kid?”
  • Dad pushing me to go out to Jasper, Alberta for the summer. It was a completely amazing experience.
  • Dad walking out of mass on Christmas, leading the entire line of people who’d just received communion, and then breaking down laughing when we realize this wasn’t the right way to go.
  • Dad talking to me every other day during the chemotherapy via skype – taking my mind off all the crap with a little light conversation, and some funny stories to pass the time.

Even though he can sometimes drive me crazy, he’s been a great father. I guess we all drive each other crazy occasionally . . . what really matters, I reckon, is the polar moments – whether it’s shit hitting the fan, or all the good stuff happening at once, what really  matters is that for those highs and lows, we support one another. It’s something to be counted on.

So happy father’s day. I hope your dad is as awesome as mine. Please do share your best dad moments if you have some. 🙂

See you later,

Catherine

P.S.

We bought an inflatable, two person KAYAK!!! More later. Let’s just say, I decided to finally realize that long-awaited chemo dream of paddling on the water.

 

The Peacock Perspective

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Life, Love by

This  has been a week of notables – those dates that get bookmarked into life for better or worse. From my three year wedding anniversary (May 29th), to two years since finding that blasted bump (May 31st) and coming up to the date of diagnosis (June 6th), date of mastectomy, husband’s birthday, my birthday (turning 30) and pushing forward across the summer. We talk a lot about these markers here in the blogosphere . . . and to be honest, the good and the bad have this way of mixing together in associations – a pain in the ass mentality I’m trying to kick but have yet to master.

[Our wedding anniversary in particular is a bit tricky since I was diagnosed so shortly after my first wedding anniversary . . . one day we were celebrating on the Isle of Wight and I was a little worried about this bump in my breast, the next week (or so) I was being told it was cancer and the breast was going to be removed. Sigh.]

But yesterday evening was a particular day to be noted in this past week.

Let me tell you why: it involved another wedding.

Not mine of course, but a friend who dates back to my high school days of debating and hanging about in the corridor between classes. Nearly everyone of that old crowd was there, it was this huge party with great food, good outfits (Is it really possible that we all look this good ten years after highschool? Apparetly!), open bar, and music galore. The groom was handsome in his black tuxedo, the bride was stunning in her short & playful gown that shaped her like the ultimate hour glass  (plus those stunning fuchsia heels). They were so happy. They are so in love.

And that’s why I got married in the first place – it had nothing to do with cancer. It was because we were so happy, and so darn tootin’ in love. It was because we were going to stick together through better or worse and give that solidity to our commitment that somehow comes from a marriage.

We’re still so happy, still so darn tooin’ in love. We are sticking together through thick and thin, we are solid in our commitment and know it will see us through the transitions.

And that’s all darn good stuff. My wedding anniversary shouldn’t be tainted with cancer fears and hospital flashbacks. It should be dosed with certainties that Zsolt and I are a team, we make it together, and I’m really lucky to have someone who is determined to grow old with me. It should be a day to celebrate this awesome advantage we have in the fight against bad health, low income, displacement. I’m talking about LOVE here, people.

A good girlfriend of mine was in town for the wedding. She was amazing when I was diagnosed & went through treatment – doing those little things that matter like asking how I was, writing an occasional message, following my blog. . . (For me, I do not forget the people who made an effort during those times. Starting with a simple, ‘how are you’  to writing letters/emails, paying visits, keeping company . . . they are heroic in my mind because each of their efforts rescued a little piece of my sanity.)

Anyhow, she is a good friend. As the evening rolled on (open bar!) and the music played and we shifted from the dance floor to the lobby to the parking lot (why, I don’t know . . . apparently someone was dropping off beer), to the lobby to the dance floor, to the sidelines . . . we all loosened up and had the chance to get in some lovely bonding.

This is what she said to me – she told me that I’d kinda inspired her, like if I could get through all that crap, she could take on her own challenges too. She reckons we ought to live our prefered lives because it doesn’t go on forever, and so long as we hurt no one else we ought to do what makes us happy. (As you can see she’s a smart cookie.) For her, that happiness is an incredible peacock tattoo that covers her back from shoulder to bum – she loves it completely, and one part of her (just one part, because she’s a strong woman to start and certainly doesn’t need my help in summoning determination) pulled a little courage from my story. From this story here on Bumpyboobs.

“If you can go through that, I could handle this” and so she did something that brings her deep joy.

Isn’t that amazing? Yeah, it’s freaking amazing.

You know what? Here is another date to remember: May 31st 2010, the day Bumpyboobs came into existence. Sure, it was because of hard things like fear . . . but it was also about comfort, sharing, and finding strength.

Bumpyboobs is a good thing. It’s not just about cancer. It’s about pushing to love and live as much life as possible.

So while the end of May and start of June are littered with difficult dates . . . it’s also a time of wonderful accomplishments, starting first with my marriage, followed by this blog (contributing in part to that AMAZING tattoo on her back), and rolling over toward our birthdays where we celebrate being alive.

Yesterday’s wedding helped me realize a lot (in between the dancing and tinging of glasses for the bride & groom to kiss), and I really appreciate my friend opening up in that way – saying things that are often left unsaid simply because they are too emotional.

It was good. The whole thing was good. And today,  apart from the post-party exhaustion, I feel really freaking good.