That is enough of that

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs by

This past weekend involved my travelling to Toronto to meet, share and learn with a group of ladies who had in the past been diagnosed with cancer (A bitter sweet experience. On one hand, it’s amazing to get together with women and chat-chat-chat ourselves silly about fertility, chemo, treatment and diagnosis . . . on the other hand, stepping back from the tea and biscuits, it’s also a little bit sad so many wonderful people had to have gotten sick.). The idea here (and in this case, it’s specifically a breast cancer charity, though similar sorts of support are offered through many cancer centers, such as Wellspring.) is that those newly diagnosed can reach out for information or a quietly listening ear from those who have ‘walked that walk’ before.

Really, it’s all about the sharing. There are times when we desperately need to share, to reach out, to connect. Personally, I had a negative first experience in terms of finding support. I’ve told this little story before, and now I’ll tell it again: when I asked the breast cancer nurse (moments after being told about the cancer) if there were any breast cancer support groups in the area, she basically said:

“Not for a women your age, at your stage of treatment.”

Gag. Really? Really? Then she went on to tell me that I was in an exceptional position, and the last time a woman around my age was diagnosed was maybe two years ago. I guess considering the surgeon performs several mastectomies and bilaterals a week . . . this ‘one every few years’ thing was small peanuts.

But I digress.

Support is a great thing. Before finding Facing Cancer Together (my first and still very important experience of peer support within Canada), I guess there was the blogging. To share, even with just my family and the people they referred Bumpyboobs to, was alleviating.

It wasn’t because people could write back with all the answers, and it wasn’t because writing would carry away my problems . . . it was because . . . . . . because I could share.

Release that ball of pressure. Let others know how I felt without having to make things ‘nice’.  (Or at least, not too nice. My grandmother was reading that blog, so I’d be lying if I said there was no censorship . . . but it was, on the whole, a very honest medium.)

So there I was last weekend ready to volunteer my time and energy to a program I think is essential (i.e. Peer Support for Young Women with Breast Cancer).

And here we go – into training! Friday starts with some emotional ‘what inspires me’ stuff, then Saturday rolls into picking apart pity versus compassion, and all the while we eat-eat-eat (sushi & Thai food for lunch . . . ahhh, so good. I made some Thai last night just to recreate the experience.) and as we eat, we chat-chat-chat.

“Fertility. Babies. Children. Drugs. Surgeries. Options. Chemo. Radiation. Depression. Exercise. Side Effects. Projects. Reconstruction. Discovery. Advocacy. Research. Doctors. Diagnosis. Family. Energy. Nausea. Work. Sick Leave. Hair growth. Marathons. And so on!”

I really should have known better. Saturday night following the training, I ought to have curled up in the hotel room with room-service pizza and ordered some stupid movie for distraction. But instead, since this was a great opportunity to meet people (and it was, which is why I couldn’t say no), I went out for dinner with the ladies. We ate this gorgeous pizza, and we talked-talked-talked.

“Babies. Children. Drug Plans. Lymph nodes. Prognosis. Treatment. Studies. Genetics. Birth Control. Fertility drugs. Family planning. Tamoxifen. Herceptin.”

Listening-listening-listening. I felt my head get heavy and the room tilt sideways.

What the heck was happening?

This is what happening: I suddenly had had enough. Exhaustion replaced interest, and I basically fell asleep in my pizza before interrupting the conversation and asking to be taken home. The following Sunday involved a lot of role-playing (very useful but also intense) and I think everyone had had enough of ‘cancer’ by the time the weekend was over.

Which is why I think, really, sometimes it’s better to focus on the “Everything else we go through” as opposed to the cancer. Yes, sharing is incredible. Meeting like-experienced others is confirming in the ‘you are not alone’ sense. This is all so very good, so very supportive, so very helpful.

But it’s also a wonderful thing to breath and be quiet. To remember that the sun is shining. To lose yourself in a book. To run that mile alone. To just let yourself be everything and anything except a person who has had (or has) cancer.

Stepping away is a wonderful thing.  So for me, this week, I’ve tried my best to step away. This post speaks otherwise . . . but along with writing this post, I’ve been working on Narrative Nipple, looking at places to move, applying for jobs, and arranging a reading group. Not bad, eh? :)

So, here’s to stepping away and letting it go. Those are the best moments, after all. The moments where you’re nothing but yourself, and the pressure is forgotten. Just let it go. Once in a while . . . just let it go.

Choo-Choo! Chuga-Chuga.

Posted in Bumpboobs, Canada, Finding Home, Fun by

Sitting on the train: rocking and rolling toward Toronto for a weekend of peer support training with the classy organization, Rethink.  Frankly, I find train prices in Canada to be drastically more expensive than the European (or US) system . . . but hey – at least there’s internet. Though I’d rather save half the price of a ticket and not be able to check my email.

Zsolt is at a bus station as I type this waiting for the Greyhound. He’s coming down to Toronto to meet me later in the day. (Why aren’t we travelling together? Well, my trip was arranged by Rethink,  and Zsolt’s was arranged by Zsolt . . . bookings did not coincide. Plus, when paying out of pocket, the bus is way, way less expensive.) The poor guy was dropped off this morning at about 7.15am for a 9.30am ride to Toronto. Goodness knows what he’s been doing these past two hours.  But I imagine it involves the playbook, and a whole lot of Fruit Ninja.

This weekend we’ll be on hiatus from Ottawa. While Zsolt visits the Royal Canadian Museum (or something like that) to learn about the Mayans and their pyramids . . . I’ll be hanging out with other young breast cancer ass-kickers, being trained on how to give support to those newly diagnosed. Rethink is this entirely cool, flashy, worthwhile organization that supports young women diagnosed with BC. They are the folks who put out  the ‘Your Man Reminder’ app/you tube video. You can get a sense of their philosophy by watching that piece of work. (However, I cannot include a link because apparently VIA rail discourages streaming, and won’t let me access youtube to find the video. But seriously, it’s easy. Just search ‘Your Man Reminder Video’ in the search engine.)

Sitting on the VIA train reminds me of high school. Maybe it ought to remind me of Europe since Zsolt and I rode the train all over, but no – high school. Back in the days of awkwardness and poor fashion choices, I was a debater. Our club would take the train to tournaments held at U of T, Queens, Waterloo, McGill . . . and let me tell you, if you’re looking for great company, look for a pack of debaters. Generally you’ll find people who are full-on convinced of their opinion and perfectly capable of discussing it to death (followed by going out to a bar , having pillow fights, or riding around in the back of taxi’s with their legs sticking out). Frankly, I don’t even know how I managed to keep up . . . but it didn’t hurt to be one of the only girls. It never does. J

All that to say I’m on a train. Zsolt is still waiting at the bus depot. And there’s no snow on the ground in Toronto.

Let the weekend of adventure (and 9-3.30 training) begin!  

Snow Shoeing in Winterland

Posted in Canada, Fun, Life by

If you haven’t noticed, exercise is a big thing in terms of health. Everyone needs exercise no matter what your weight, no matter what your medical history, and no matter what your ‘lazy’ levels. Even walking around the house when there’s no strength left is good exercise. (That’s an extreme example, but I’ve been there with chemo and know others who have as well. My mother once had chronic fatigue, and just getting out of bed was a struggle . . .)

Right, so Dr Canada once told me to ‘burn off that estrogen’. Forget about fat or calories. I’m burning estrogen.

What my husband is burning, I have no idea. He’s six foot five with a slim build. But maybe we could say he’s building up the muscle? Burning on that muscle! And improving circulation, too.

All this to say that we’ve found a new way to exercise, which I’d like to recommend to you  today. What is it? Snowshoeing!

Yesterday afternoon we drove out to a quiet spot in the Ottawa Greenbelt just off the highway, and tried on our (my parent’s) snowshoes for the very first time. Unlike the experiment with cross country skiing (which was, by the way, disastrous) there was no trouble getting into the shoes, and no trouble keeping balance.

[Side note: Zsolt has this impression that Canada equals animals. But where are all the animals? We see squirrels, birds, chipmunks . . . but what about the bear, moose, elk, wolves, and deer? He’s not the only one expecting the suburbs to overflow with wildlife. I do believe that nearly anyone visiting from outside the country expects to step off the plane and spot a moose. It’s not their fault, it’s ours. Canada has injected the world with giant-animal propaganda, what with the stories of polar bears and seals and moose and wolf packs, and grizzly bears. Anyhow, I’m just saying – if Ottawa is a tourist destination, maybe we should import some elk or something?]

So we begin to walk into the bush, and we’re determined to find some animals. There are tracks everywhere. Some two-hoofed and spaced, others tiny and very close, a few that are quite dog-like (or wolf-like!), and others remarkably human. But that’s all we see – tracks.

Maybe twenty minutes later we’re crawling through the branches of some thick patch of spiky trees (the best bit of nature walking) and come across a train line. Fan-freaking-tastic, a nice smooth path. Obviously animals and people walk along this line – we can see by the tracks, and obviously no train uses this thing because it’s totally snowed over.

Safe to walk on? Of course!

So we start walking. Beautiful day, the sky is so blue, the trees have that glisten of a past ice storm . . . and we are stomp, stomp, stomping along till we reach this ‘thing’ I don’t know the proper name for. It’s a light for the train, as though there were once two train lines here, as opposed to one (because the actual lights points off into the forest – i.e. to nowhere and no one, not sure how a train on the main track would even see it.) and at the bottom of this thing is a pile of old seeds. And chickadees. Little tiny, black, grey and yellow chickadees, hopping around and picking at the food. Zsolt pulls out the camera and one of the birds flies onto his camera.

We became excited.

Next Zsolt passes me the camera, and I film him picking up a few stray seeds and holding them up in his hand. A little bird arrives and hops around his palm, pecking at the seeds and hopping about some more. Charming or what? It was like a scene from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty with all the little birds. (And since Zsolt is such a great beauty.)

We get this on film. And then I decide to try.

Holding up my hand and waiting, the birds seem less certain to land on my palm. But I keep waiting with my hand held out – until Zsolt says,

“There’s a plow!”

And I say,

“Oh shit!”

Roaring down the ‘apparently-not-abandoned’ train track, is a giant plow throwing snow into the air like little waterfalls off its side blades.

Well hey, we weren’t going to argue with its progress. Scrambling to pick up our poles, and our mitts, and my dropped scarf, Zsolt then says,

“Jump across the creek!”

Because this train line is quite, hmm, narrow? With dips on each side – one side goes quite steeply down into the trees, the other rises quite steeply up in to the trees . . . the stream is on the ‘up side’.

So in my snow shoes, I run and take a flying,  big-footed leap to safety. (Though the snow was sliding, and that stream looked really deep just next to my heels.)

What does Zsolt do? Does he follow his panicked wife?

Oh, no, he doesn’t. He’s suddenly struck with reason, and simply steps to the side of the maybe-wider-than-I-realized path, and the plow slows down to pass.

There I am, clinging to the side of this hill as the plow man looks at me and gives an uncertain wave. . . and they carry on.

Leaping across a stream is easy when you’re panicked. Getting back off that steep incline is more tricky. With help from Zsolt’s reaching arms, I managed to jump back across that stream (onto the upward incline of the train line) and back to safety.

Anyhow, by the time we walked back to the car, we were both totally knackered. However, in terms of exercise and reclaiming your health (Cause, really, that’s the bottom line despite all the extra life-threatening fun.), I couldn’t recommend it more. Crazy adventure with snow shoeing, and good health to boot. Totally worth the price of the equipment. And maybe, maybe, next time, we’ll spot a moose.