The Littlest House Guest

My friend Jen is dog sitting Zak while her cousin Mary (Zak’s mommy) is away. He’s staying with me for a few days to keep me company. I thought Zak would get me out of the house walking, but today is so bitter cold that we only did a quick walk around the block.

He’s very little trouble (although I must admit I haven’t embraced the whole scoop & poop thing yet). It’s nice to have Zak around so that I’m not just talking to myself. He almost always agrees with me and we even like the same TV shows.

Tribute to Yolaine

Peggy sent me this great picture of Yolaine dancing at the Vancouver dragon boat festival, along with some lovely words of rememberance.
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Yolaine embodied a warm spirit and had a quiet joie de vie that radiated from her smile. She was a quiet woman, not because she was shy, but because quiet was her nature.

It took me a little while to get to know Yolaine, and then I realized that Yolaine spoke her life, not through words, but by action. She didn't tell people that she was going to run the Half Marathon, she just did the training then ran the Half. But when complimented on her running success, she glowed with the joy of her own success and with the pleasure of people having noticed what she did.

Dragon boat was the same - she never complained; she just got to work and paddled her heart out. Even during the last few years, when she may not have been feeling her best, she would come to practice and smile radiantly, with the pleasure of being in the boat.

Quietly but passionately, she spoke about her children, about how much she loved them, about how proud she was of their accomplishments and how they each brought special gifts to her life.

Mostly, I remember Yolaine at the Vancouver Dragon boat festival in 2006. I can close my eyes and see her still - wrapped in her pink feather boa, and along with thousands of others, dancing in a frenzy of Pink Celebration. Her smile, her dancing, and her paddling spoke for her, telling her story of dedication to the things she loved.

Peg
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You can read the lovely words that Elaine Scarboro spoke at Yolaine's memorial service at Yolaine.

For those of you who knew Yolaine, please feel free to share a memory of her in the comments section. Add your name to the text portion if you want, but you can avoid having to log on by clicking on anonymous at the bottom of the window.

A lifeline for young women with breast cancer

A friend sent me a link to this article in the Globe and Mail about younger women (20s and 30s) with breast cancer. (Thanks Mary T.) http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20090112.wlcancer12/EmailBNStory/specialScienceandHealth/home

Living with the 'median'

Check out the Kingston Whig Standard newspaper for Sue Hendler’s ongoing column on her metastatic breast cancer journey. The columns are published every second Friday and topics vary from irreverently funny to somberly serious.

This past Friday’s column, entitled “Living with the ‘median’: I hope time is on my side”, definitely fits into the more serious category. Susan discusses survival statistics and reactions to those statistics from family and friends in a way that is both honest and hopeful.

If you would like to read other columns by Sue Hendler, click on her name below after "Labels".

Susan

My email connection with Susan started shortly after I read an essay called Simplicity and Silence that she wrote for CBC’s This I Believe project. I identified with her journey of finding meaning and peace amid the chaos and uncertainty of ongoing cancer treatments. Susan is an associate professor at Queen’s University in Kingston, so she was easy enough to track down and we started emailing back and forth about our experiences.
Susan was diagnosed in 2003 with sarcoma, a fairly rare cancer of the soft tissue and the bone, in her right leg. Despite a return of the cancer in the same place two years later, and the spread to the lungs and dangerously near the heart, she is doing well and back at work in the Philosophy department at Queens.

Susan writes:

My tool for living with this situation is meditation. I took a ten-day Vipassana course in March 2004 before my first chemo because I needed a tool to deal with the anger and resentment I had about being sick. I've practised meditation ever since. I've done five more ten-day courses to learn to focus my mind. My mind is all I have to respond to this ongoing situation. I am happy to see the beginning of 2009, something I did not expect one year ago. I do not think about 2010. I don't look forward or back and I live my life simply,

Peace and freedom are pursued through silence, at least in important part. Or so I now believe. I don’t mean just exterior silence, often experienced in agitation. I mean silence of the mind, which is freedom from endless mental conversations, rooted mostly in fear and self importance, and from unfounded and domineering expectations that undermine sensitivity to the here and now.

You can read Susan’s story in her own words at Susan. You can also read her essay, Simplicity and Silence, at This I Believe.

If you would like to read about other women living with cancer, click on "Cancer Heroes" below.

Brenda

Have you ever ‘kissed the cod’? Well I did, when a group of us enjoyed an evening of Newfie initiation at Brenda’s a few years ago. She prepared the most amazing assortment of Newfoundland dishes (including my favorite, Fish n’ Brews) and there were lots of belly laughs as we went through a series of initiation rights to become honorary Newfies.

Brenda’s down-home common-sense approach serves her well when it comes to dealing with life’s challenges. After her initial breast cancer diagnosis in 1997, she faced a recurrence in the same breast 2 years later, only to learn after mastectomy and chemo that there was another lump on her chest wall.

More than 10 years later, Brenda is spending weekends at her family’s chalet in Lac Ste Marie and is enjoying life. She is an example of someone who is fulling living today and looking forward to tomorrow.

Brenda’s advice for others:

First, give yourself time to grieve and do not feel guilty. If you do not grieve you cannot move on. You also need the time to absorb and sort it all through in your mind. People cannot do that for you. Tell well meaning people that you need some alone time to get used to the whole ordeal.

Secondly, do not get stuck in the grieving phase. Do not feel you have to continue grieving - move on to helping yourself. Do what you have to do to get your life back. Remember this is your life and if you are going to go through chemo and radiation again, it is because you want your life back. When you are unwell, rest and ask for help. When you are feeling better - live your life and continue to do for yourself. Think positively and live everyday as if it is your last (although it isn't).

You can read Brenda's story in her own words at Brenda. If you would like to read about other women living with cancer, click on "Cancer Heroes" below.

Who am I?

It’s easy to lose sight of who you really are when going through chemo treatments. On my good days I am a ‘cancer warrier', putting a brave face forward in the fight against this disease. On my bad days, I am a helpless cancer patient, a victim of my body’s betrayal. On the days in between, I’m just me, Chris, a mother, a daughter, a friend; a woman with many interests, hopes and dreams.

When I found out that I was facing chemo treatments at the end of last summer, I decided that I wanted a visual reminder of who I am – before I lost my hair and the effects of the treatments changed my physical appearance. I hired a photographer to take some pictures and we met at the gazebo on the Rockcliffe parkway, a common site for wedding pictures.



At first I felt a bit ridiculous, like a disoriented middle-aged woman posing as a bride. My discomfort eventually passed and I began to have fun with it, allowing myself to just enjoy the surroundings and feel happy, almost obilvious to the photographs being taken. The result was an assortment of pictures that represent a side of me that I want to hold on to – the healthy me.

No, I don’t look like a model in the pictures (although I could use some air brushing...). But I look like me: healthy, surrounded by sun and nature, and that puts a smile on my face.

When I look at the pictures I’m reminded that cancer doesn't define me, that it is only a very small part of the whole person that I am.