An Open Letter to Not-so-"Dear" Cancer

Published on www.ihadcancer.com on January 6, 2017
https://www.ihadcancer.com/h3-blog/01-06-2017/an-open-letter-to-not-so-dear-cancer

Before I begin this letter, let me digress...

Funny how we have all been trained to start all letter with 'Dear...' which is such a warm and endearing term. As if implying that who we are addressing our letter to is someone who holds some special place in our hearts...Some long lost friend whom we wish to reconnect with. "Hey you. How have you been? We should meet up and catch up...".

This is the definition for 'dear' in Merriam-Webster's dictionary: "highly valued; precious; a dear friend". So let's take a step forward now. this letter I am about to write is being addressed to Cancer. With that definition in mind, I have two words that immediately come to mind - Bull. And Shit. And that is me being polite and G-rated. OK, now let me begin my open letter to Cancer. 

   Cancer,

No, not 'Dear Cancer', just 'Cancer'. You don't deserve me beginning this letter with 'dear'. In fact, is there anything you deserve? Not that I can think of at this very moment....or ever.

I've been thinking about our 'relationship', and how as with all relationships I've ever had, we've had our ups and downs. We've encountered many roadblocks along the way, hit several different levels of emotions. One thing I can say with 100% certainty is, regardless of what happens, where I go, who you move on with, you will always be in my life, sadly. As much as I try and shake you off, tell you that it's over, scream out to you that we are DONE, you'll always be lurking there in the shadows. You can't catch a hint. You don't process the message and once and for all just leave. No, like some bloodsucking leech that won't let go no matter the amount of salt we sprinkle on you, you are there. You are super-glued in my soul. 

We first met some 9 years ago when you decided to knock on my mother's door. We tried to slam the door shut in your face, and for a brief moment, we were successful. But like the big bad wolf who blows his way through the straw house, in you came and wreaked havoc on my mother, my family and my life. You grabbed hold of my mother's physical strength and tore it apart. Then again, in 2013, as spring approached and we were once again able to open the windows to let in the fresh air, in you flew and landed in my body this time. So I put on my boxing gloves and kicked some serious ASS. I went in strong and came out stronger. WHAM!!! BAM!!! POW!!! Sucks to be you Cancer!

But again and again, you are there, in my life, in the life of others. It may not be me, but you are there. In my subconscious. In my dreams. In my thoughts. In my breath. You took my friend's husband. You took a father to two growing boys. You took my friend's mother. You took a grand-mother to her loving grand-son. Again and again, you take and take and take. You are always creeping around, waiting. You slink and snake your way in others lives. And still there is nothing I can do. Cancer, you should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me, always and forever will. 

Cancer, I will end this letter simply with the following lyrics by a Kendrick Lamar song, "I hate you":

Let me start off this letter saying I don't like you
Scared of you, but I will fight you
I stare at the ceiling and think about you
Curiosity killing me, thinking of when I'ma meet you
You introduced yourself to so many others, mothers, sisters and brothers
Children and babies, drive me crazy, I wonder
Why you love people that love people that do right?
Is it rocket science to you, or is it just your type?
One of my biggest fears
is waking up four in the morning and gotta hear you met one of my peers
Or maybe a family member that you thought was cool
Or maybe a person that I'll never meet cause of you
You, son of a b**ch, and I wish you never existed
And I swear I'd blow your brains out if you paid me a visit
But that's not realistic, cause you'll never write
But I'ma still send this letter off, P.O. Box
and when you get it....please take it personal. 

Louve de Laine - Media Release

Local Artisan Gives Back Through Her Hand Knits at Fundraise for Cancer Foundation

Ottawa, ON - Louve de Laine - Hand knit designs by local artisan Adèle Crôteau will be featured at an upcoming charity event The Art of Hope, benefitting the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation on October 13, 2016.

Adèle Crôteau and her family are no strangers to cancer. In 2008, her life was overturned with the loss of her mother to ovarian and peritoneal cancer. While still grieving for her mother, she received her own diagnosis of cervical cancer a few years later at the age of 37. Now cancer-free, it is her passion and goal to educate, raise awareness and raise funds towards cancer support programs and research.

Adèle became obsessed with knitting after the loss of her mother; who was an avid knitter. It was her way of self healing and to ensure her mother's legacy lived on.

Proceeds from sales of Louve de Laine's hand knit pieces have been donated to a range of charitable organization such as Ovarian Cancer Canada, The Ottawa Hospital Foundation and most recently to the Gord Downie Brain Cancer Fund.

"The Inspiration behind my work comes from difference stories of those affected by cancer. Whether I hear a famous person just diagnosed or it's someone I read about or meet online, I know I have to do something. So I am knitting!"

The Art of Hope is an evening dedicated to local arts, music and fashion from across the National Capital Region. All participants have been touched by cancer one way or another and are collaborating together to provide a fun filled, interactive evening to delight their guests.

The evening will include dance performances, live music, art exhibits, artist demonstrations and fashion show. Other artists participating at The Art of Hope include Canadian Singer/Songwriter Keturah Johnson, local designer, Rowes Fashion and visual artist Judy DeBoer.

Tickets for The Art of Hope are on sale through Eventbrite. Event details can de found at www.vixensvictorious.ca

For more information, please contact
Adele Croteau
louvedelaine@gmail.com

Cancer helped me discover my creativity

"Art is you being free from all of the world's heviness." This is one of my favorite quotes I've come across since having and beating cancer.

When cancer enters your life, whether you are a caregiver or survivor, and I've been both, your life changes on many levels from the moment you hear those dreaded words "You have cancer" or hear a loved one say "I have cancer".

These changes present themselves as quite frightening and earth shattering.
These changes bring on many unknowsn.
These changes bring many "What now?" moments.

But these changes, and cancer entering your life, can also bring about beauty. Now before you start cussing at me screaming, "How can cancer be beautiful?", just hear me out...

When I say beauty, I don’t mean the disease itself. Don’t get me wrong, cancer IS the ugliest thing out there. I mean beauty quite literally. I mean beauty as in art, something pretty to look at, something to feel in your fingers, something that you can create and be proud of. I mean beauty as something that will leave your mark on the world as well as impact your life and that of others, regardless of whether you have 1 year to live or 50 years.

For me, this beauty has been learning the art of knitting. This has become my form of beauty, of feeling something soft in my hands, of leaving my mark on the world. Back in 2007, cancer entered my life when my mother, Ginette, was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer. One year later, sadly, she earned her angel wings and my life as I knew it stopped quite abruptly. My mother was a passionate knitter. Not an evening went by that she didn’t have at least a few minutes with her knitting needles in hand, a soft smile on her lips, and a sense of serenity and pride as she created something beautiful to give to my sisters and I. For years, my mother wanted to teach me, the “crafty one” of the family, how to knit. I kept pushing it back telling her that I would one day. “Why would I waste my time?” is what I thought back then…well, with her passing, my time ran out. I became obsessed with learning how to knit while grieving the loss of my mother. Perhaps I just thought it was a way in keeping her alive, in feeling close to her and what she loved doing. By knitting, perhaps her spirit, the essence of what made her so special would never die. What I did not anticipate is how this art – knitting – would come to heal me.

The Canadian Cancer Society says that creative arts therapy can “be a way for people to express their unspoken or unconscious concerns about their illness and their lives, deal with emotional conflicts, increase self-awareness, cope with cancer and reduce stress.”

When I read this description, it made sense to me. Not only did the arts help me calm my feelings of grief in the dark days following my mom’s death, but they allowed for both physical and emotional healing. For the first time in a while, with every new stitch, I began to smile, to feel inspired, and that my mother’s legacy would live on. I had underestimated the therapeutic value of acting through art.

Then, in 2013, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, at age 38. I’m one of the lucky ones; my cancer wasn’t terminal, and I was able to defeat it. Although the physical side of me was able to rid itself from cancer, my emotional side would be poisoned, damaged and battle for years following the diagnosis and remission and still to this day. Once again, ‘art therapy’ would be my road to healing.

One thing about being a cancer survivor or a caregiver is that you want to find a way to help others. This I find has been a common bond between those of us touched by cancer. When I started knitting, not only did it give me something to occupy my time and clear my mind of the negative thoughts, but sharing my pieces with friends and family raised awareness about cancer. It initiated discussions about why and how I learned to knit, and I would end up sharing my story with others, building awareness. I’ve always believed that awareness and education are priceless. The more we know about issues that affect the world around us, the more that people will want to find ways to help. The only thing missing for me now was how I could find a way to help raise funds for cancer research. Again, it was art.

For the last few years now, I have been selling handknit items and donating the proceeds to a range of related organizations, including Canadian Cancer Society, Ovarian Cancer Canada and The Ottawa Hospital Foundation. The inspiration behind my work comes from different stories of those affected by cancer. Whether I hear of a famous person just diagnosed or it’s someone I read about or meet online, I know I have to do something. So I am; I’m knitting.

If you wish you learn more about my knitting fundraising campaigns, you can find me under Louve de Laine on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

How did cancer change the way you viewed at beauty or experienced creativity? Share in the comments below!

Going Grey for Gord

ON SALE NOW FROM LOUVE DE LAINE BY ADELE CROTEAU

In honour of Gord Downie and The Tragically Hip's final tour, 100% of proceeds from all grey Louve de Laine items will go to the Gord Downie Fund for Brain Cancer Research / Sunnybrook Hospital. Visit Louve de Laine on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter, or email me: adelecroteau@gmail.com or louvedelaine@gmail.com

If you're Canadian, you probably have much of The Tragically Hip's songbook somewhere on the soundtrack of your life. So you were probably deeply affected, as I was, by the recent news of Gord Downie's diagnosis of terminal brain cancer.

The band shared this sad news on their website on May 24, and then promptly announced an upcoming tour. In their words: "What we in The Hip receive, each time we play together, is a connection; with each other; with the music and its magic; and during the shows, a connection with all of you, our incredible fans." I think I can speak for all Hip fans when I say that we feel the same - the same connection, the same magic from the music.

It's that sense of connection that compels me to dedicate all proceeds from my grey Louve de Laine wares as a tribute to Gord Downie, to a cause he and The Hip believe in. So that we - the fans - can continue to be connected to the band we all love.

Why I'm doing this

Cancer entered my life in 2007, when my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer. One year later, sadly, she earned her angel wings. Then in 2013, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, at age 37. I'm one of the lucky ones; my cancer wasn't terminal, and I was able to defeat it.

So how is this related to knitting? My mom was a passionate knitter and always wanted to teach me the art. Thinking I would have more time with her, I kept pushing it off. When she passed away, I became obsessed with learning how to knit - and I did learn. I also wanted to do what I could to increase awareness and raise funds for cancer research, so I've been selling handknit items for the last few years, and donating the proceeds to a range of related organizations, including Canadian Cancer Society, Ovarian Cancer Canada and The Ottawa Hospital Foundation.

After hearing the news about Gord, frontman extraordinaire for The Hip, I knew I had to do something. So I am; I'm Going Grey for Gord.

Grey is the colour of brain tumour awareness. From now until The Hip's Man Machine Poem tour wraps on August 20, I will donate 100% of the proceeds from all grey Louve de Laine scarves and neckwarmers to the Gord Downie Fund for Brain Cancer Research / Sunnybrook Hospital. I invite all you Hip fans to buy in: Show Gord how much Canada cares by purchasing one of Louve de Laine's grey wares. Because in the end, we all need something to wear, to cover up from the cold wind running....

Message to Gord

My most sincere congratulations to you on your positivity and strength during such a challenging time. Going on tour now is courageous and pretty freaking awesome, to say the least. You're inspiring many people, and that's an amazing thing. I know your upcoming tour will be epic, and moving beyond words. Know that all Canadians are behind you in this, and strongly rooting for you. Good luck in the coming days, months, years.....

#GordStrong
#goinggreyforgord

Thank you for Michelle and her generosity for the beautiful photos. You are awesome. 

http://www.michellemabellephotography.com/

My Mother's Day Wish

On this Mother's Day: For all of you who still have their mothers, and who may not always understand why they do what they do, who may be frustrated by their constant questions and concerns, who may feel they are not accepting that you are no longer a child, I have one request: next time you see your mom, just hold her hand a tad longer than you normally would. Tell her that she means the world to you. Lay your head on her shoulder as you sit side-by-side a few moments. Give her a warm smile when you catch her staring at you from across the table. Know that your mom is that one person in the world that will love you more than any other being ever could remotely come close to. She does accept you as being an adult but she does the things she does because you are the last thing on her mind as she goes to bed every night and the first thing also when she wakes in the morning. Her heart skips a beat every time she sees you or simply thinks about you. There is nothing your mother wouldn't do to ensure your happiness and safety, no matter what age you are. A mother's love is like no other. 

And for those of us who have lost their mother's much too soon, may we hold onto those memories of her, of her love, of her stare from across the table with a constant smile, of her warm hand on ours, of feeling her heart beat in her every hug, of her beautiful face, her kind words, and her constant adoration for all that we are. Not a day goes by that I do not think of my mother. To say I miss her is an understatement. But I am pretty lucky to have the memories that I do have. To have felt a love like no other. To have felt loved no matter what heartache I brought upon her. To have been given my three sisters who are the biggest blessings I could ever have hoped for. To have my father to help keep her love alive. 

Maman, je t'aimais, , je t'aime, je t'aimerai

Will I Ever Get Off This Cancer Roller Coaster?

I’ve often read different metaphors for life, one of them being ‘life is like a roller coaster ride’ full of peaks and valleys of joy and pain. Sure I guess, although most of my life, especially my youth, was more about consistency, calm, and comfort with only a few bumps in the roads that were easily overcome. My youth was more of a carousel ride, smoothly going around in circles, joyful music in the background, children and adults alike smiling and laughing. You’d get the occasional horse that would jolt you unexpectedly up in the air, taking your breath away but leaving you giggling on the way back down.

My cancer diagnosis could almost be seen as my first ride on this life-sized roller coaster. You sit down on the cold hard bench, pull the metal bar down and buckle yourself in, close your eyes, hold your breath and hope for the best. The ride starts going slowly up and up as you head to countless doctors offices, get scans, biopsies and blood work. Then you hit the momentary stop at the top, the peak of the ride where you are surrounded by silence, emptiness, loneliness, to suddenly dropping viciously down down down to that valley at the bottom of the ride known as Diagnosis Day, or what I refer to as D-Day.

The first year, although I remained on that roller coaster, I got to a place where those peaks and valleys were better handled. They became expected. I could regulate my breath so that the rise no longer seemed to reach as high as that first one, and the dips appeared to be slightly slower going down. I knew that with every appointment my heart would beat harder and faster, then drop back down and slowly get back to a place I would be able to handle and move forward.

Then came the end of the ride where I slowly pulled up to the gates, the security bar was released. I got off the roller coaster, legs weak and shaky, but I gladly accepted that it was over.I had survived the ride. I was told the glorious words “You are now cancer-free”.

For a while after, I walked around that ‘amusement park’, my life, just looking around at the beauty of it. The colors, the lights, the music. All those happy faces and I actually felt I also was one of those happy faces in the crowd. I blended in. I was at peace. I was healthy. I went back to my normal.

…or so I thought.

Little did I know, I would not be done with the rides so soon. Perhaps never.

I recently rode a ferris wheel in downtown Montreal at night. There were lights and music, and I had my son and one of my sisters next to me. It was beautiful, lovely, even magical. But it also made me realize that my recent challenges were somewhat similar to this ferris wheel ride. There were the ups and downs, similar to the roller coaster, yet they were smoother, almost creeping up on you without warning. For every day that I felt great and at peace, I would have a few days with panic stricken moments that would hit me out of the blue in random moments.

I would be in the grocery store and suddenly feel like the floor would collapse under my feet as if I had just walked onto a trap door. The room would begin to spin uncontrollably, I felt I had forgotten how to take a breath. I dreaded night times the most when the kids would be snuggled warm in their beds, my beautiful husband sound asleep beside me, my dog curled up close to my legs. These were moments when I should be most at peace, but they would leave me in tears. I found my head spinning with uncertainty, anticipating what dreadful dreams I’d have. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. Who was this person who feared the calm moments? Why was it that all I could think of was what could happen?

I started imagining the worst. Would I get sick again? Would cancer come full circle and chose me once again? It gave me the same feeling of walking through a house of mirrors, through a maze of mirrors where every turn has you face to face with those glass panes of a distorted reality. I would catch glimpses of myself that were unusual and confusing, some of them humorous and others frightening.

One of the biggest triggers of my anxiety recently has been waiting on the results of my genetic testing. Earlier today I had a call with my genetic counselor to go over those results. The main genes they were looking at were BRCA 1 and 2. I found out that I have negative results for both of those. What that means is I do not have a mutation in those genes, therefore I am not at a higher risk of ovarian or breast cancer. It does not mean that my mother, who passed away of cancer, did not have a mutation though. When a parent has the mutation, there is a 50/50 chance of it being passed down. The fact that I do not have the mutation also means that my kids will not. Gene mutations do not skip a generation. If you don't have it, you can't pass it down. All in all, this is good news and was such a huge relief for me.

Still, I’m not sure what is next for me. I don’t know what is around the corner. I can’t be certain I won’t hop onto yet another scary ride. What I do know is that I am not alone in this, in these feelings and in these constant fears. I am working hard on accepting this new me, this new reality. Life will continue to have me facing scary and uncomfortable moments, weird rides that I wish I had never gotten onto.

What I have also learned is that in accepting the fearful moments, it is OK to seek help and not want to face this alone. For me, that has meant admitting that I am struggling with depression and anxiety. It has meant accepting medication as prescribed by my family physician. It is reaching out to the professionals who can help me in sorting out my thoughts.

My recovery will continue to be these things and that is OK. It does not mean I am broken. It does not mean I am weak. It simply means I am human. It means I accept me.

It means I am a survivor.

How sharing my cancer story changed my life.

Shortly after I was handed my 'cancer-free' membership card, I found myself in a very dark place. I might even dare say almost darker than when I was going through the many stages of being a cancer patient: from testing and biopsies, from the doomsday of my diagnosis to the hospital visits, treatments, surgeries, etc. Weird, I know. Then came that fateful day when the doctors told me those words I had been praying for: "You are cancer-free".

Yet, post-cancer, I found myself in a place so dark that it was hard to admit it--seeing as I was now 'a healthy and cancer-free human being'. I should have been thankful for that but I wasn't. I should have been celebrating, but I didn't. I felt lost, alone and unsure how to move forward. Since this was not something I could talk to anyone close about, I found myself surfing the internet to try and find out why I was feeling this way and how to get out of it.

Many of the results I found online were quite medical in nature and didn't give me what I was looking for. I wanted to find out why I could not feel happiness. I couldn't find something that addressed the 'life after' cancer and what to make of it. I began to feel as if I might as well just accept that I would feel this silent emotional struggle forever. Then I came across I Had Cancer.

I was intrigued immediately just by the name alone. Not only was it the 'past tense' of what I had just gone through, but I also felt I could relate to it. For one, it was not a site focused on just the medical technicalities of cancer. Within 20 minutes of searching and roaming the site, checking it out and reading some of their blogs, "THANK YOU" was what I said out loud. I immediately knew I wanted to be part of this, whatever it was. I registered, became a member and contacted them via email asking whether I could submit a blog entry. I met Emily, who worked for the site, and after many emails back and forth, I had submitted my entry for their blog and it was posted. It was called, "Are We Ever Really "Cancer-Free"? and it was the most honest I had ever been on such a public platform.

I had no idea that my moment of vulnerability, laying my heart out online and set free into the world wide web for all to see would get such positive feedback from other members. Thousands of people reacted, and agreed with everything I said. It brought me comfort and strength back in knowing that I was not alone and not going crazy for what I had been feeling. I did not expect that sharing my innermost thoughts, feelings and weaknesses would in turn bring my life some positivity, faith and strength back.

I also definitely never imagined that the blog post would lead me to a free trip to New York City.

Fast forward a year...and 16,000 likes, 20,000 views, 1,200 shares and 500 comments on the blog post later...came an email from the IHadCancer team inviting me to a celebration in New York City honoring all those who had been affected by cancer.

I was all the way in Canada - I didn't think it would be possible to really make the trip. But on my personal Facebook page, I wrote how honored I was to have received the invitation in the first place. What happened next still has me pinching my own arm, shaking my head and wondering "how the hell?". Two words: social media. Social media gave me an opportunity of a lifetime. After reading my post, my co-worker set up a 'Go Fund Me' page, sent it to all my friends, followers and supporters. Within a matter of 24 hours, it had raised all of the funds that were needed to send me and my husband to this event. I was, and still am, speechless. The kindness and generosity that I was offered, without ever even asking, was truly remarkable. My loved ones knew I needed this escape- more than I even thought.

It was a whirlwind and all happened so quickly – from raising the money, to us flying to NYC to attend, to my nervousness of actually getting to meet the IHadCancer team one-on-one a day before of the event.

You know when you have an idea in your head about someone you've never met? You think you know them but you don't. Well in my head, the team was amazing. We were friends and we had a connection I could not even explain as I had never "met" them. I was a member of their online community, probably just a number to them. I can't remember ever being this scared to meet a stranger. I imagine this is what people feel when heading into a blind date. Will we connect as much as we did online? Will we run out of things to say in less than 5 minutes? Will we even like each other? And then the elevator doors opened. I was greeted by a bear-hug from co-founder Anthony, mega-smiles from founder Mailet, and a solid embrace from Emily, whom I had been emailing back and forth with. We spent two hours together, before saying goodbye until the main event the following day. My online impressions had materialized and they were true. The kindred spirits I thought I had met online were just that- kindred spirits. What a fabulous group of people.

I instantly was brought back to the moment when I had found the IHadCancer.com site and felt I had found a family, because meeting them in person was exactly that, like meeting family. Reuniting with old friends. Not only did we have lots to talk about, shared some tears and some laughter, but I am sure I could have stayed hours longer talking, sharing, feeling inspired. Not only had they taken a few hours of their busy day to sit with my husband and me, but they made us feel like we mattered to them, we weren't just a number. This is the magic of the cancer community - we all are bound by a commonality that none of us really want. The best club nobody ever wants to be a part of.

So when someone says that there are silver linings with the diagnosis that is cancer, and you think to yourself "that person is crazy..." trust me, there are. It may come in the form of seeing a friend's true colors when he/she goes the distance with you during treatments, or a nurse squeezing your hand when you just feel so alone, or finding some inspirational quote online during your research, or coming to realize you are stronger than you thought, but those positive moments are out there.

You simply have to open yourself up to them being possible. My silver linings were multiple things,, but most recently, was my experience of meeting total strangers that greeted me in a way I never imagined possible. Had I not had cancer and had not been vulnerable enough to write that initial blog post, I would not have met Anthony, Mailet, Emily, to name a few, or flown to NYC with my husband for some much needed R&R, or met the many strong people who also had the unfortunate diagnosis of cancer at the wonderful IHadCancer "Celebration of Shared Experiences".

Never in my life could I have imagined being in a room full of people who at one point had been weaker than humanly possible, yet stronger than 100 warriors put into one. For this I will forever be thankful. For this, I will forever be inspired. For this, I will forever be proud to be a cancer survivor. And for this, I will forever be grateful to have come across IHadCancer.com.

And most importantly, I will forever be grateful to myself, that I chose to take the leap and open up about what life after cancer is really like. Although all strangers to me, I feel as though I have found a new family, new friends. The cancer community is my silver lining.

It always seems impossible until it is done.

Most of you know that every year since mom's passing from ovarian cancer in 2008, I have walked in the Ovarian Cancer Canada's Walk of Hope. With your support and donations, I personally have raised $13,046 toward this charitable organization (woot woot). This walk is the single most powerful awareness and fundraising initiative in Canada dedicated to overcoming ovarian cancer. The funds raised are vital for ovarian cancer awareness, support for women and their families as well as for research. All this has been a cause very close to my heart. It is my deepest desire that we find a way to change the nasty world of cancer so that others do not have to suffer as much as I have watched my mother suffer.

That being said, although my heart mostly rests with eradicating ovarian cancer and finding ways for early detection as being a first step to this, I've sadly come to realize these past few years that so many other cancers exist, too many are affected by all these cancers and there is still a lot of work to be done to make 'cancer' a word of the past. I have heard of neighbors being affected by cancer, relatives of friends, co-workers, celebrities, the young and the old, some of my own family members as well as myself, where in early 2013 I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. I am one of the lucky ones to be able to say I am now a cancer survivor and after a grueling year of hospital visits, appointments, scans, biopsies and surgeries, was given my 'You are cancer-free' talk by a wonderful team of doctors.

With this in mind, this year not only will I be participating in the Ovarian Cancer Canada's Walk of Hope on September 13th, but will also be participating in the Canadian Cancer Society's Relay for Life on June 5th. The Relay for Life is a community fundraising event where Canadians across the country join together in the fight against cancer. The goal of this event is to raise funds to advance cancer research and support Canadians living with cancer. Through the Relay for Life, progress will be made against this disease by funding Canada's best and brightest researchers who are working tirelessly toward the next breakthrough. The donations will also help to lessen the burden of cancer by providing vital information services and compassionate support programs for people with cancer and their families.

If you wish to sponsor me toward either one of these events, below is the information on these walks as well as the link to my personal page. Just one click and you are there. If you cannot donate but wish to help, you are welcome to join my team [Earth Angels] on one or both of these walks. It would be my honour to have you walk by my side.

Thank you in advance from the bottom of my heart.

Event: Canadian Cancer Society's Relay for Life
Date: Friday, June 5th - 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. (yes you read that right - it's a 12 hour walk overnight)
Location: Nepean Sportsplex
Personal Page: http://convio.cancer.ca/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFL_ON_odd_?px=6285511&pg=personal&fr_id=17757
Team Page: http://convio.cancer.ca/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFL_ON_odd_?team_id=331386&pg=team&fr_id=17757

Event: Ovarian Cancer Canada's Walk of Hope
Date: Sunday, September 13, 2015
Location: Andrew Hayden Park
Personal Page: http://noca.convio.net/site/TR/2015WalkofHope/General?px=1016048&pg=personal&fr_id=1137
Team Page: http://noca.convio.net/site/TR/2015WalkofHope/General?pg=team&fr_id=1137&team_id=1550

XOXO

Dear Cancer,

Dear Cancer, Although you disgust me, always and forever will, on most day I am able to be thankful to you. I am thankful for what I have learned about myself while being face to face with you. I have been able to see exactly what I am capable of enduring, what I am capable of accomplishing....which is kicking your damn butt! But for today, just this one day, please allow me to rant....and by rant I mean please allow me to express my utmost hatred and anger toward you. 

Today, above most days, I HATE YOU. I hate you for what you did to me. I hate that you took away my fertility. I hate that you took away my prime years before menopause. I hate that I am now at 39 in menopause and have to suffer some side effects of hormone replacement therapy. I hate that you have scarred me inside as well as out. I hate that my children (6 and 8) look at me and ask what happened to my belly to leave such a big mark. I hate that I have to tell them there is something out there so evil that it will permanently hurt their mommy. I hate that they know that this is something that we can't control and could attack anyone, anytime. But more than hating what you did to me, I hate you for what you did to my mother and to my family 7 years ago, when you first appeared your ugly head. I hate you for the suffering you caused her. The pain she went through, only to lose her beautiful life one year later. I hate that you took away what she wanted most of all, which was to be a grand-maman to my kids. I hate that she never got to meet my beautiful Sophie that was growing inside my belly. I hate you for taking my mom away. I hate that instead of feeling the magic of Christmas this time of year and looking forward to creating beautiful memories with my mom side-by-side, and celebrate with what my family used to be, I am now feeling the emptiness of her not being here. She is so close to my heart and always will be (and that you cannot take away from me) but yet she is so far and I struggle to find happiness this time of year. It becomes harder and harder to just close my eyes and think back on all those beautiful Christmases we did get to have together. HOW DARE YOU. How dare you come into our lives and take that away. She was a good person unlike any other. Her outlook on life was always positive and full of smiles, laughter and love. She lived for her family, her kids, her husband. She loved all those in her life. She also lived to make all those around her happy and comfortable and feel accepted. There was no better person and I truly believe the world is one shade darker without her light shining in it. I could try and try each day yet could never reach the level of goodness that woman had. You should be ashamed of yourself. Dear Cancer, you truly disgust me today above all other days. 

"You are cancer free". Am I really ever?

I am coming up on my one year anniversary of being cancer-free. Reason to CELEBRATE? You bet your A$$ it is. And I will celebrate. Trust me, I will. But...

“But what? There is no ‘but’”...says someone who has thankfully never had cancer. And they are right in a way but oh so wrong in another way, sadly.

The “but” for me is what happens to you —your mind, your heart, your fears, your dreams— once the cancer is gone. It's what you go through when the “doom and gloom” days of doctor appointments are long gone. Once you're done with tests, blood work, biopsies, consultations, scans, surgeries, etc., you walk into that follow-up appointment scared. You think of everything they could say, such as, "We didn't get it all", "You'll need treatment xyz" or "The cancer spread...". But alas, you hear those words you have dreamed of hearing since you were diagnosed, "YOU ARE CANCER-FREE".  You head home feeling as though you are floating instead of walking, in a state of shock. I thought that night would be the best sleep of my life, but it ended up being the start of many sleepless nights…

I have never been someone who thinks negatively but rather, I have always focused on the positives. I never had too many anxieties or worries growing up, and never held onto stresses for too long. I would always figure out what needed to be done and then did the best I could to move on, happy and worry-free. But now, not so much. I worry about my health, along with every ache and pain. I think about all the possibilities of what could attack my body. I think about my kids, my hubby, my family. I think about cancer finding its way back into my life. Although I am a strong person and live a healthy and active lifestyle, I feel physically vulnerable all the time. What if the cancer never left?. I sometimes fear that it will never be gone. Is anyone ever truly “cancer-free?”

Why is it that when I was going through cancer, I was so positive and optimistic? I was solid and focused and even though I was still scared, I had a purpose. I was on a mission to concur this beast. "No f'ing way you will take me down". I laughed a lot. I was virtually unchanged. I was ME. I went to appointments focused with my lists of questions. I did my research, I was informed, I laughed with the medical staff. I tried to turn as many of my daily interactions into a ‘Saturday Night Live’ skit as possible. I made people around me smile. I remember most of it as a 'happy’ time. But the moment you are sent home with your “get out of jail free” card, you are alone, unsupported, and left to deal with the after effects no one really warns you about. No one tells you that you will come down from that adrenaline rush to a place where you don't know what you feel, think or how to move forward in your life.

How do you explain to your loved ones that it isn't as easy as it seems, when they say "Get over it", "Don't think that", or "It's gone, so focus on that". Yes, we try to do that, but without wanting it, we think of the negative and darker stuff and especially of all those ”what if’s.” Then we struggle with the guilt of thinking those negative thoughts, so we start to lie when asked “How are you doing?”

If you ask me how I’m doing, and I answer honestly and tell you that I’m worried, please accept my answer. You asked and I answered. It might not be all sunshine, rainbows or fluffy kittens but it is where I am at. Yes I am grateful for my life and my health but I want to be OK with this second stage of feeling scared, worried, and anxious. I can't quite explain why these thoughts are poisoning my mind but I want to be allowed to go through this part and hope I can continue to have the same support I had at the beginning. My support systems are what got me through it in the first place...I guess I just need them all a tad longer than expected. 

XOXOXO

Cancer becomes part of you even when it's gone...

Sad to read that cancer continues to affect so many of us even after we are lucky enough to be cancer-free. This blogger is very brave for what she has written....

http://www.ihadcancer.com/h3-blog/06-11-2014/Sex-After-Cancer-Going-To-Vaginal-Boot-Camp

XOXO

How I found my Zzzzs's.....or not.....

Wow, it has been a good three months since my last update. There are many a moments when I thought I had a rant to post, a positive thought or just a note to touch base with those interested or wondering what the latest was but I never got around to it, or to put it plainly, was just too damn tired....

I just read back on some of my posts and especially the last one with its title 'Reflections of a Year' and although it was appropriate with it being the year end, I almost feel like this post should hold that title also. Reason being is that today is the one year anniversary of my hearing the words "You have Cancer". Wowza. A few of my close friends have asked me when I mentioned that "Does it feel like it was just yesterday that you were diagnosed or does it feel like an eternity away"? To that I can honestly answer: BOTH.

It feels like it was just yesterday that I was sitting in the waiting room with my father, husband, sisters. There's a paragraph in a book I am currently reading that made me think of that faithful day:

    We leave the comfortable waiting room and walk through the white doors into an alternate

     universe, a sterile world where the comfortable chairs and sofas give way to plastic and metal, 

     where the warm pine yields to polymers and laminates and steel, and where the lighting subtly 

     shifts from incandescent to fluorescent... [The end of your Life Book Club by Will Schawalbe]

It did have nice calming images on the walls, comfortable chairs and sofas, soft incandescent lighting, then hearing my name be called out, and then crossing the line from the comfortable environment to that sterile hallway that brought us to that cube room with its fluorescent lighting which seems to make the healthiest of people look old, tired and drawn in. When I just think back of that little square room, sitting with my dad and hubby, waiting for the doctor to enter the room, my heartbeat raises to the same rhythm that it did one year ago, April 8th, 2013, 9:30am. I remember clearly the quiet ride home, the shock. My mind was totally blank, yet so full with thought, fear, questions...

And then it also feels like it was an eternity away. Everything that has happened since that day seems also somewhat of a fog. Perhaps this fog you place yourself in is a type of survival mechanism so you don't dwell on the shock too much. Perhaps your mind has a way of trying to push trauma (emotional and physical) to a distant place to protect you and allow you to move forward. I've had countless medical appointments since that day. I've had scans, bloodwork, tests. I've had two surgeries since that day. I've struggled back through recovery. Some days were good, some not so good. I've watched ten seasons of Friends DVD's (thanks L.V. for the bedridden entertainment). I've hit some all-time emotional lows, I've put some strain and stress onto my all too supportive family. I've seen countless doctors still, and continue to struggle through some stuff that I hope I can move past but am also trying to accept I may never.

With that year, I am forever changed. Change is not always a bad thing but it can be quite difficult and take some time. I am writing this in hopes that I will eventually believe it. I have had so much change in my life, that I was hoping for some stability. But with now having to learn this new me, this me who has been put into a sudden menopause and the shock it has placed my body in, this new me who no matter how healthy a life style I live, will always fear the return of illness and cancer, this new me with different thoughts and emotions, a body that reacts differently to things that were so familiar to me before but also this new me who is determined to be a healthy and physically fit as my body and mind will allow it to be (Spartan Race, here I come).

So in simple terms if you are wondering how I am and have been these past three months? I am OK. Not great just good. Not bad but I've seen better. Sleep? It's been worse. I think having let go of some of the anger that came with this new found insomnia has helped. I am still frequently waking, tossing and turning but am trying to let go of that anger that came with every waking. We have removed the TV from our bedroom and can no longer look at the time on the cable box and see exactly how many more hours I have to toss and turn until the morning comes. The bedroom is no longer a 'family room'. It is purely a sleeping place (and well you know....). It is becoming a more serene place and much less family action-packed. I have stopped taking any sleeping aids, other than the very natural melatonin. Prescriptions were not doing what they needed to do and then created this zombie-like Adele for the remainder of the day. I did not like having my head in a fog throughout the day. The other question I get a lot is has my iron gone up? Nope. Not one bit. Not a tad. Frustrating you say? Yup. Still working with my dr. on this front. Hormonal replacement therapy? Still working on it. First one I was given, well my body just did not want to absorb it. I seemed to be doing better with the menopause symptoms but with my young age, my hormone levels need to be kept to a certain level to help protect my bones and my heart from disease to those organs. Physical remission from surgery? Awesome, all due to a fabulous trainer I have been seeing since October. She has worked with me in a slow and progressive way that was just perfect for me. She has understood where I was, understood the place I was coming from (both emotionally and physically) and knew my vision for where I wanted to be (Go Spartan AROO)....and she has gotten me there....and more. She is sort of an angel to me. I was the one who made the call to the fitness studio looking for a trainer, but with her calling me back instead of some of the other trainers there, well the match couldn't have been any better. She rocks and I will miss her as she moves on to her new life in Toronto with her partner and soon-to-be baby girl. (I'm gonna miss you L.N. more than you will know...)

So there you have it. My update. My progress. My frustrations. My emotions. My worries. They are there. It is ongoing. It will continue to be. Life. What an adventure it is. Both fabulous and worrisome at times. All that said, I am quite happy to be where I am. I am quite lucky to be where I am.

XOXO

Reflections of a year

As I approach the new year, I can't help but think of the last 12 months, and of all the moments during those months that have changed me in ways that I did not think were even possible and that I don't' even realize yet. There were astronomically challenging moments, but what comes to mind the most are all the precious, beautiful, loving, happy moments that I have had this past year. As much as the challenging moment stands large in my memory and will continue to be a big part of me, I will jump forward into 2014 focusing on the good moments and trust that this new year will bring more of those than not.

This past year, I got cancer. Above that, I beat cancer.

This past year, I lost my fertility. Above that, I gained many many years of living.

This past year, I shed too many tears. Above that, I came out of those tears from laughter brought on by my friends and family.

This past year, I was in and out of medical appointments, met many specialists and have had way too many (at times quite painful) tests. Above that, I was in the care of a team of doctors, nurses, medical staff that I know are the best of the best. I was listened too, was given their patience when bombarded with all my questions (and trust me there were many), and never did I feel unimportant to them.

This past year, I underwent two surgeries, one being a major one that left me for days not being able to care for my basic needs. Above that, I was in the hands of love, help and trust of many but more so of my lovely and brave sister Camille who went above and beyond to make sure I was as cared for as I could be, even putting to the side her own needs for weeks.

This past year, I had weeks of not standing up to my role of being mother and home keeper. Above that, I was reminded exactly what a superhero my husband is and how he would go to the ends of the earth for me and our little family and making sure we are well, loved and provided for during the darkest of days.

This past year I started a new job. With everything going on from almost the start of this new job, I was able to function to some level, achieve some successes and make a certain mark that I can say I am proud of, even through my numerous absences. I was supported by my co-workers and backed-up many a day. So thankful I am to all of them. Without that support and understanding, there would have been many added stresses.

This past year I was reminded that what is important in life are not the things you surround yourself with, the material things but by the people that surround you. Without your friends, family and all around good people, you are missing the big piece. You could have all the money in the world, the greatest and richest items, the bigger house with all the trinkets but you would still find yourself alone and in a dark place. Because I had the love and support of countless people, I felt like the richest person alive. I felt full, complete, loved, happy, lucky. I can't say I have ever been a person who takes things for granted but this past year has reminded me more about how we need to be appreciative of all we have, especially our health. Life can change on you in a single flashing moment and then you could be brought to a place of regret, sadness, loneliness and fear.

So with this new year beaming down on you, and I will do the same, I challenge you to look around. Really look around you, at the those around you and see how very lucky you are. Cherish your friends. Laugh with them. Bail out on your cleaning and chores to have a cup of coffee with an old friend and catch up. When with your family or friends, take a moment to tell them how much fuller they make your life. Tell them how much you love them. Hug them. You have no idea the impact that will have on their lives. Let go of that last load of laundry and go down on the floor with your child and play a game of their choice. Laugh with them and see and share their joy and wonder and innocence. If you find your pet on your couch when they aren't supposed to be, let them stay a moment and join them. Go scratch their belly and pet them and feel the warmth it brings to your heart. Know that it is doing the same for them. You can deal with the hair on the cushions later. Look at the big picture. Does it matter that you have some doggie hairs on your pants? Does it?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5JicO2bKec

A few months in...

So it's been close to a month since my last post and I can explain...

As a kid you are always told "if you have nothing positive to say, then don't say anything at all...". So there. Every time I opened up my blog with the intention of writing a post, updating my friends and family, clearing my mind, nothing positive came to mind, so I closed down the blog and stepped away from the computer. Now with a few weeks to think about it, I had initially started this blog as an outlet for me mostly, but to also share with family and friends and be open, honest and vulnerable about my so called adventure through cancer. I may be cancer-free now but the 'adventure' continues and I guess I shouldn't be scared to continue to share the struggles that come with the follow ups, the new challenges with this 'new' body of mine. So in a nutshell, how am I doing? Shitty...

You know, I feel an extreme guilt about what I am about to complain about because why should I complain, especially now that I don't have cancer. 'What does she have to complain about' I can hear some of you thinking.

My body aches, I can't sleep, I keep losing weight yet eating regularly, I am distracted.... 

I'm tired. I'm so damn tired. All the time. It won't go away. I fall asleep in seconds when I shut my eyes but I can't sleep long. I can't seem to clock in more than 1 to 2 hours at a time. I wake often. Am restless. Can't shut down the system long enough to really catch up. I know, I know. Everyone is tired. Life is busy. We all work hard. We all have activities and priorities and everyone is tired. We are all guilty of taking on too much. I have been tired in the past. Babies not sleeping, feeding all night and I've gotten past it... There is something different about this time around. I am not sure I will find the words to explain what it different. You know, all I can think of is how I thought that once I heard the words 'no more cancer' that all would be well. I would sleep well. I could focus on the fact that I was healthy and that no 'evil beast' was living inside of me slowly morphing my good cells into bad cells. But I can't get there yet. I am feeling lost. I am feeling scared. I am feeling overwhelmed which I am sure turns into the frequent waking. It's all connected and I know this. I've also heard that with menopause comes insomnia or your body not needing as much sleep. Perhaps it's that but the fact of the matter is, if I am going to be any good to my family, my friends, my work, my kids and hell to myself, I still need more sleep. I don't buy the 'you don't need as much sleep when in menopause' story.  Perhaps the not needing as much sleep is an age thing, a seniors thing but not a 38 year old surgically induced menopause thing. Not a mother of young kids who has to support a home, a family, and function with efficiency at work. Not this gal anyway. (A side thought, I hate that I was told that not much research has been done on women of my age and the effects of early menopause so it will all continue to be a mystery. Thanks. Quite reassuring).

I've always considered myself a strong and solid person, who handles stress well, can handle a heavy workload, can multi-task quite well and maintain a good level on all fronts while being positive, happy and always find time to laugh and make others laugh. I am realizing that there are limits to everything in life and I am perhaps reaching some of mine. There IS and always will be room for laughter in my life but unfortunately lately I've had to accept the constant 'water-works' that comes from extreme exhaustion with having days without sleep. 

So there you have it. My update. A not so positive one. The face of the 'post-cancer' struggles. I'm good, but I'm not....but I will be....hopefully....

Once again, thanks for taking the time in your lives to read my blog. You are all beautiful and wonderful.
XOXO

I'm thankful for....

I'm thankful for my health. Seems weird to some for me to say that especially thinking back at the year I just had. But I am. I am thankful that I am a solid, strong and healthy person which in turn helped me get threw my recent challenge of overcoming cancer. I am thankful that it wasn't worse. I am thankful that it was curable with the help of the right people behind me. I am thankful for my doctor who still went ahead and gave me a pap test even though I had just had one a year before and the new standards are every 3 years. Had it not been for her judgement call, taking into consideration my past and my concerns, my story could have turned down a different road. I am thankful for the nurses and doctors who took me into their hands, had patience with my hundreds of questions, my concerns on research I had done myself and who gave me the time in their offices that I needed to walk away informed and comfortable moving forward. I'm thankful for the healthcare system we do have even though we may be brought to complain about it anyway. I was given the opportunity to treatment and care without having to remortgage my house, without having to pull back on things for my kids and my family.

I am thankful for my friends. I have had the luck of being surrounded by such wonderful friends for as long as I can remember. My friends have gotten me through tough times and oh boy have we had good times. They've listened to me complain about stuff I probably shouldn't have complained about. They put up with my goofiness and my silly antics. They are beautiful inside and out and I couldn't imagine my life without each and every one of them. Whether small or big, they've all had their separate impacts on my life. I do have to make a special mention of three friends who've particularly left a mark (and not to take away from the many other friendships I've had and still have ):
Isabelle P., you've been in my life the longest of all my friends and to this day, I am still shocked that you didn't give up on me when I remember the large and thick walls I had built around me when I first walked into that new school in Quebec. I was angry, and distant, probably mean at times and yet you came, you stayed and fought to break down those walls. You had the determination of a circus trainer with a new wild lion. To this day, you are a constant in my life, we always have a good time no matter the distance between our homes and the frequency with which we see each other. It's always comfortable, safe and fun. Thank you my friend.
Melanie H., who left my life way too early and so suddenly. What a tragedy not only for me but for the world. You made every room you walked in a whole lot brighter and in my opinion, way more fun. What you brought to my life was that I learned that no matter what is happening, no matter how 'doom and gloom' you think it is, there IS a way of getting through it, that you will be OK and that humour does help get ya there. And boy did we laugh...I will never forget your smile, your strength and your love. When approaching a challenge or dark moment, I still ask myself: "how would Mel handle this one.....Thank you.
And Casey T., my dear Casey. You've just recently come into my life. So young, free, positive and funny. We got to know each other also when I had recently had some sad sad moments of losing 3 babies in that one year. And I don't know if it was the baby that was growing in you that gave me the hope that when some things go bad, there is always a light somewhere that can help you get through it. That light wasn't in me but in you and was shining on me all day with you sitting across from me. You shared with me the happiness you felt and it radiated on me and got me hooked on the person that is you. When I have something to share, I think of you first. When I want to laugh, I can count on you. When I need comfort and support, you somehow bring it with ease. When I just need a friend, you come to mind. With everything that you do bring to my life, man do I hope I can reciprocate in some way. You are fabulous my friend.

I am thankful for my family. This could go on and on but my sisters: nope, wouldn't be where I am without you. The three of you are the greatest gift, THE GREATEST GIFT ever. What more can I say. I love you with all that I am. My father, you gave me to courage and strength I needed in times of challenge. You knew exactly who I was, probably quite close to traits you have, and you knew the right things to say at the right times and moments in my life. I looked up to you and still do. Age doesn't determine when you need your parents or not and at 38, boy do I still need you. My cousins, my aunts, uncles, grand-parents, nieces, nephews. Thank you. You are part of me and because of you I have lovely and fun memories that I can always hold into when things go bad. My mother: I am at a loss...I love you. I love you. I love you. I miss you.....My husband, you are my heartbeat, my breath, my other half. We've been through good times, some challenging times but what I know is that I can't imagine a day, a moment, a future without you. Thank you especially for the level of support and strength you've brought to this last year. I would be in a way deeper and darker place if if it wasn't for you. I love you with every that I am. My kids.... again at a loss for words..... They are fabulous even when tough on me. They are sweet and beautiful even when I am tugging at the hairs in my head. I wanted you and need you. I look forward to seeing you become into what you will become. I hope I can give you what you need to get there. What I need you to know is that I am trying my best. My heart beats because of you two. I love you Julian. I love you Sophie.  My doggie, woof woof. Thank you for your snuggles. Woof.

I am thankful for my life. I have worked hard and have everything I could ever want. I have a home, friends, family, a good job, lots of things, stable health, a future. Really. I am the richest girl in the world with all that I have and all that surrounds me. This life is what I have. This life is what makes it all fit. It's what I hoped for and more. I am thankful for it all.

I could go on and on but before I lose all your interest, thank you!

XOXO

The not so nice stuff....

I'll start by saying that 'I don't have cancer'. I am trying to keep my mind focused on this statement without bringing me back to those stressful few months....but I have to focus on that statement while I face the new stuff, which every woman will have to face at some point: Menopause.

A work colleague and I recently attended an information session to learn all about menopause. This session was given by a registered nurse who works at the Women's Health Centre at the Ottawa Hospital Riverside Campus. She was fantastic, didn't stop talking for more than a second and seemed to know EVERYTHING there is to know about menopause....(picture a shocked and discouraged expression on my face at the end of the session though). My early arrival into this mystery phase of my life was surgically induced and therefore I was told could hit me harder than most (most go through a slow transition of 5 to 7 years, slowly adjusting to the symptoms). How hard can this be I thought to myself. All women go through it. So I'll be hot on occasion and not be able to have babies. Being a 'frozen' person on the best of days, I sang BRING IT ON. In a weird way, I sometimes wished I would have 'hot flashes'. And then my ovaries would stop functioning. News flash! I have none! And the big bonus....NO MORE monthly periods. So really, I thought it couldn't be that bad. I had accepted never having more children. I was looking forward to not being frozen all the time and need I express more happiness about no more periods? Seriously. Bring it on!

And now I eat my words....why is this not talked about more? Why is it the only thing we hear about menopause are the hot flashes? Did my mother try and communicate some of the other symptoms and I chose not to listen? Was I too busy laughing at the sight of her standing on the back deck mid-January in shorts and a tank with a big smile on her face? Is it because of the embarrassment about some of the other side effects of menopause?  Just like mental health, I think menopause needs to be a topic of conversation where women, as well as men become more informed about this epic and very transformative time in women's lives. We need to stand tall and not be shy about opening up about this. Yah! No periods. But now let's move on to the stuff that can literally change a person's life....

I won't go into detail in this post listing all the symptoms (still learning what they all are) but I will say it's not all about hot flashes. I will say that right now I am suffering greatly from one of the other symptoms not talked about. Sleep deprivation! Sounds simple? It's not. At the information session I attended, she made a comment that made me look at my colleague and say: I'm fucked! The Nurse said, and I quote: "It's a good thing that by the time 'most' women go through menopause, their children may be young adults and have most likely moved out of the house, and they may be approaching the end of their working careers or have already retired...". Great. I have some 20+ years of working outside of the home to go, have 2 young kids, both who are in hockey (all you hockey parents, or other activity, know how much time and energy is required to keeping that up) and have to stay healthy and sane through all of it, keep the house clean, children fed, homework done while learning to cope with this new 'glorious' time. It is making me miss the sleepless nights of breastfeeding an infant. At least then I was at home for a year, could lay down during the day and rest and did not have to maintain 'files' at work and be coherent. At least then during those exhausting wee-hours, while baby is latches to me, I could look down and be in awe of the miracle that was causing me to be OK with going about my day unshowered, dressed in leggings and not making sense when addressed (don't think that last sentence even makes any sense but I am sleep deprived people!).

The perk of having gone through the surgically induced menopause is that I have the privilege of being followed by a menopause specialist at the hospital. This is a perk that only certain women get to have, although it would come in handy for most. I am currently on an estrogen gel which I apply to the skin each and every day and will continue to do so until the age of close to 60. This should offer protection to my heart (heart disease being another side effect of menopause) as well as my bones (osteoporosis, yup also on the list). It is made to also help with what they call the 'quality of life' symptoms such as hot flashes, mood swings or depression, the sleeplessness and some of the negative sexual side effects (don't worry, I won't go into this one here - felt you all cringe). Currently we are trying to find the right dose of estrogen to help with the hot flashes and sleep. With one increase in dosage so far, I have seen a slight improvement with the hot flashes (not getting them every 20 minutes of so) but nothing yet on the sleep side of things. So for the next little while until we find a way to fix the lack of sleep, bare with me please. I may gaze off while you are speaking to me, ask you to repeat a few times, yawn at every few sentences (it's not out of boredom I promise). I will get there. I am trying different coping mechanisms. I am still the same Adèle. I just happen to be going through something that is a tad bit hard while maintaining my good rep at work which I worked so hard to earn, keeping my kids organized, fed and healthy and being happy. Honestly, right now success is arriving at work fully clothed, in shoes instead of slippers and perhaps looking a tad bit decent. Once again, thanks for listening. May you all have empty nests and be close to retirement when this happens to you. And men/women, please be patient and understanding of your spouses/partners during this delicate period. They will get through it with your support, understanding and love.

P.S. I highly recommend to all women and their spouses to attend this FREE information session given by the nurse specialist at the Riverside campus. It will open your eyes, perhaps depress you a tad bit, but at least will make you aware that what you are going through, or will go through, is normal, that you are not alone and that their are solutions to help.
http://www.ottawahospital.on.ca/wps/wcm/connect/0cd488804b25b21a8f65df1faf30e8c1/MIS+2013-14-e.pdf?MOD=AJPERES

Now for some fun stuff...

Now that all the serious and scary stuff is over with (for now anyway....life keeps it coming eventually right?), time for something fun. Something I've been wanting to do for a while now. Something I have primarily been waiting on due to health stuff and some low iron issues that should be better in the coming months.....TATTOO PLANNING!!! Yah. Thought I had outgrown that desire with my approaching forties did ya. Never! I love skin art. I love it on others. I love it on me. I love hearing about the stories behind pieces chosen. I love it even when it doesn't have a fancy story to tell and that the answer to the why is simply "because I wanted it" or "it's pretty". Why not. Why shouldn't you get something that you simply find pretty and no deep rooted sentimental story or reason for it. Life is so damn short and we should enjoy it. Enjoy it for ourselves and not worry so much about what those around us might think. Don't worry about it so much. If it makes you happy, do it.  Life does come with some responsibilities and everyone should fulfill those to some degree. But a tattoo on my body, now how could that possibly harm anyone. I don't know if I will get to live to see my 39th birthday. I may see my 99th. Who knows. But one thing I do know is I will live this life of mine happy. I want to be happy. I will do what I can to be as happy as I can in this life. Yes there are times where I will be sad. There will also be times for stress, worry, anger and grief, but I will be happy where and when I can make it happen for myself.

A tattoo making me happy. Superficial maybe? Perhaps. But simple. Simple happiness. I like that. I like simple. That makes me happy.

Here are a few pictures in case you are curious as to what this next tattoo might look like....(oh I am so excited).

Placement of the tattoo....in this picture, the image is nothing like what I will be getting but the placement of this next tattoo is precisely where I want it done. Yah!

Image idea....I want to have sunflowers done. This will be a dedication to my mother. Here is a picture I found that I love and want my tattoo to resemble the style. I like that the stems and leaves are black and white and the flower is the only color. It will balance out the other black and white half sleeve that I have on the other arm. Somewhere in there will be written 'Je t'aimais, je t'aime, j'aimerai', and '1950-2008' again for my mother. Also in it will be 3 mini butterfly shadows in black (for the 3 babies I lost) and 1 monarch butterfly (for my beautiful grand-maman Jeannette).

Also being planned is a smaller one on each wrist. My left wrist will have 'Simon' written out in a grey shadow ink with Julian in colors sort of overlaying the 'Simon'. Simon is my dad's name (as well as my son's middle name) and will be written out in my dad's exact handwriting and 'Julian', my son's name' will be written in his handwriting as well. The right wrist will be the same idea except for 'Ginette' in the grey, my mom's name (and daughter's middle name), with 'Sophie' in color, my daughter's name.

Anyway, it's still in the planning phases and I still need my iron levels to raise but I am confident that by Christmas, I should be able to begin this masterpiece that will be mine and mine alone. Of course you can stare at it all you want. I will be wearing it proudly. It's funny. I remember when my mom first discovered that I had gotten a tattoo (and then two and three and etc.) she couldn't help but feel sad that I had marked the body that she had created. But once she saw them, and knew that I was still me and unchanged, she liked them. She said that as much as she had resisted accepting them, she liked them on me and just knew that they belonged. She was quite an awesome lady in more ways than one!

Je t'aimais, je t'aime, je t'aimerai!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85lKsSCZm4k

Next stop? My healthy future!

Most of you already know but on August 29th, at approximately 11:15am, I got the news from my oncologist that I.AM.CANCER.FREE!!!! I have to say there's a lot of news in life that is good such as the birth of a baby, a good grade in school, an old friend coming to visit, but nothing will top off hearing those words from your doc. Nothing. It took me a few days to come down from the high of that news to be able to sleep through the night. Phew. I can breath again.....

Pathology showed a few cysts on the ovaries and one on the right fallopian tube which were benign and the cancer only on the cervix. Now that it has all been removed I am all good. No treatments as previously told and just regular follow ups in the years to come. YAH!

Recovery from surgery has generally gone great. I have had some harder days but mostly good. I am being quite disciplined when it comes to the cleaning of stuff and keeping myself 'busy' with some watching of 'Friends' (almost done nine seasons in less than 5 weeks), some knitting (approx. 10 hats, 4 scarves, half a sweater and starting on some mitts), reading (on my 4th book) and a tad bit of whining to the hubby that I am bored and will you drive me Shoppers Drug Mart to browse or to Starbucks for a yummy coffee. I've had some visits from family and friends, some phone calls, a three day vacay at the family cottage, a psychic medium party at my BFF's and powerful and emotional day of raising awareness for ovarian cancer with some pretty fabulous ladies. I am quite pleased to announce that this year, with all of your support, my team of 'Dances in the Rain' has raised $3,625 for Ovarian Cancer Canada. Those funds will go to help women diagnosed with ovarian cancer, to educate everyone about this disease as well as research to help find a early detection test. This was my 6th year walking and I get more inspired to keep helping with each and every year. Thank you for all the support I've gotten. Means the world to me and my family.

I'm now down to one more week off from work. I am both excited and nervous to return. I am feeling ready and yet not. It will be a slow transition into full time hours as sitting for long periods of time are still challenging as well as the stamina to last a full day without resting. As the doctors predicted also, I have now started getting 'shocked' in my belly as the nerves reconnect. I can only describe it as and electrical heat storm in my belly or like there is someone hiding inside and every so often taking a tazer to where my uterus used to be. A simpler description would be - NOT FUN! But the nerves reconnecting is a good sign that things are progressing and hopefully the muscles will e strong and connected soon to help support me in an upright position or a sitting position.

Well it's been the adventure. Thanks for coming along. It was stressful and scary at times but there were also many beautiful and inspiring moments. I can't go back so the way I see it, is I wouldn't change a thing of how it was done. I have survived. It will help me see future challenges in a new light and with the knowledge that it can be done.

I can't WAIT to see what the future brings.

XOXO