Four

Four years ago I had my followup appointment with my surgeon. My appointment was on Friday evening but that morning they called and asked if I could come in the afternoon instead. Shawn had planned to meet me at the surgeon's office after work. I told him not to bother to try to get off work early; I'd go by myself. Fortunately, Shawn and his boss were smarter than I was, and he was there when my surgeon told me the mass they'd removed from my neck was cancerous. 

Poppy is nearing the age Grady was when I started to get sick and it's affecting me in ways I didn't expect. When I was diagnosed, I went into action mode. We made treatment plans and nutrition plans and try-to-enjoy-life-even-though-it's-difficult-right-now plans. There wasn't a lot of time for reflection. Or rather, I didn't let myself delve too deeply into the emotions attached to being diagnosed with cancer while 30 years old with a 1-year-old baby. I distinctly remember telling my family to feel their feelings, just not on, or near, me. 

But now Poppy is a similar age and she's so small. You guys, Grady was so small. It all could have been so much more terrible. It's messing with my head. (I'm also spending today at the cancer centre for my routine tests so my head isn't in the best place to begin with. Scanxiety is a thing and it's a bitch.) 

Today is my fourth cancerversary. I have an excellent support team (both of the family / friend variety and the medical variety). I have a number of promising scans bolstering me as I trudge toward my 5-year mark. I have gratitude for what cancer has given me (an appreciation for what I have, and a severe decrease in my level of give-a-fuck for the minutiae of life) and optimism for what's to come. I still struggle sometimes (like today, when my head is full of angry bees and I feel like I need to itch myself out of my skin) but overall, four years after my life imploded in my surgeon's office, I'm just happy. Happy to be here. Happy my life is so full. Maybe it's boring or silly or weird to mark a cancerversary but to me, it's a celebration. I've come a long way in four years. Here's to many more.

Boobyball Mini with Rethink Breast Cancer

Rethink Breast Cancer is bringing Boobyball Mini: A Next Gen FUNdraiser to Vancouver this Saturday, April 22nd. This fairytale bash has been planned with kids and parents in mind. Kids are welcome to wear costumes and will be entertained thanks to activities planned by sponsors such as Gap Kids, Indigo, and Panago. Parents will enjoy complimentary cocktails and Kim Crawford and Meiomi wines. As my friend so succinctly put it: think of it as a toddler gala...with an open bar.

Rethink Breast Cancer is the young women's breast cancer movement. Young adult cancer is generally thought of as cancer that is diagnosed in people between the ages of 20 and 39. Think of what you're doing in your twenties and thirties. Going to school, starting a career, buying a home, finding a partner, having babies. (Listen. I'm not saying you should be doing all or any of these things. If you don't want to buy a home or find a partner or have babies, more power to you. I'm making some generalizations for the sake of my post, cool? Cool.) Young adult cancer can derail these plans. The treatment options for a woman in her sixties, who is done having babies, should be different than the treatment offered to a woman in her twenties or thirties who may want the possibility of children after cancer. Rethink Breast Cancer offers age-appropriate support and resources for young women with breast cancer.

“Boobyball Mini: A Next Gen FUNdraiser is headed to Vancouver!

The afternoon affair will be a one-of-a-kind event with great entertainment, music and décor set to an enchanted forest theme. Mingle over cocktails while kids explore our fairy-tale forest.

All proceeds from this event will go directly to Rethink Breast Cancer’s mission to empower young people worldwide who are concerned about and affected by breast cancer including some resources for families dealing with cancer.”

— rethinkbreastcancer.com

Vancouver Boobyball Mini: Enchanted Forest tickets are available here.

Use code BBMTEAM for 25% off ticket prices.

Saturday, April 22nd, 2017
3:00 - 6:00pm

Heritage Hall
3102 Main Street
Vancouver, B.C.

Cancer is an insidious disease. I genuinely don't think any of us can say that cancer hasn't touched our lives in some way. Whether it's a family member, friend, co-worker, or that crazy blogger who won't shut up about thyroids, we all know someone who has been diagnosed with cancer. My hope is that we can move away from the traditional fear-driven, commercialized cancer support (don't even get me started on pinkwashing), and start to provide resources, education, and community for specific groups. Young adult women who are diagnosed with breast cancer face unique challenges. Supporting them specifically doesn't take away from the support available to other groups. If you're in Vancouver, I hope you'll consider attending Boobyball Mini this weekend and showing your support for young adult women facing breast cancer.

Pregnant after Cancer

The cancer centre I go to is divided into different clinics. When I arrive for my appointment, I check the main board in the lobby and head to the clinic where my oncologist is working that day. Sometimes I'm lucky and I'm in clinic A. Sometimes I have to walk through A and B to get to clinic C.

The clinics each have their own waiting room full of patients in varying states of health. It's difficult to not feel observed when walking through the clinics. The waiting rooms are full of silver-haired patients and patients who were bald long before cancer took hold. Young adult cancer is not rare but it's rare enough to warrant curious glances. I don't begrudge the looky-loos. Whenever I see someone in my age bracket I turn into a looky-look myself.

I've passed the "maybe she just ate a burrito?" stage of pregnancy. My belly is round and the pain in my hips forces my gait into a slow-and-steady-almost-waddle. I am unprepared for the barrage of sympathetic looks directed at me as a pregnant woman in a cancer centre and it makes me mean. "I'm not one of you," I want to hiss. I earned my NED. I'm here for monitoring and more tests and poking and prodding and reassurance. I'm not here because I'm sick. I'm here to put another notch in my five-year-clock bedpost, to move one step closer to being officially declared "cured." Feeling defensive is not productive or particularly healthy but it's the protective cloak I wrap around myself to survive the (slow) walk from the main lobby to my clinic. I realize as I check in and sit down in the waiting room that I am one of them. We're all here for monitoring and more tests and poking and prodding and reassurance.

Being pregnant after cancer messes with your mind. I have spent the past few years willing things not to grow in my body. My blood has been tested and my hormones levels have been watched religiously. And then I got pregnant and all of a sudden the things I wanted most in the world were for something foreign to grow in my body and my hormone levels to change. Being pregnant after cancer is a gift so many are not lucky enough to receive and I don't take it lightly. But I'd be lying if I said it was easy or even enjoyable. Being pregnant after cancer feels like a science experiment. A drawn out science experiment where you have to wait 40 weeks for the results.

Patience is not something that comes easily for me. I like plans and decisive action. "Watch and wait" is torturous. But I will wait and I will breathe through the anxiety and uncertainty and in the spring this broken body of mine will deliver a baby. I've never felt so lucky.

Friday Faff

Before I get faffy, can I be serious for a minute?

It's October. Pinktober. The month of pinkwashing. We're inundated with products that have been slapped with a pink ribbon and we're made to feel like buying these products is "spreading breast cancer awareness" (like we're not all very aware of breast cancer). The reality is that the pink ribbon symbol isn't regulated. Anyone can put a pink ribbon on anything. And they do. And we buy pink ribbon products because we feel helpless against a brutal disease and it makes us feel like we're doing something useful.

Now, I'm not saying that we shouldn't buy pink ribbon products. People choose to show their support in different ways and if pink ribbon shoelaces or toques or buckets of fried chicken (seriously) is your choice, more power to you. What I'm saying is, if you want to contribute directly to breast cancer research, there are better venues. And if you want to contribute directly to breast cancer patients, there are better options.

Which brings me to my friend Colby. Colby is my age. She's a single mom raising two beautiful babies. She's a full-time nursing student who lives on student loans. Colby was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. In the coming weeks she is facing surgery and from there her doctors will decide her chemo/radiation future. She's also writing her final exams.

I've never seen Colby without a smile on her face. She radiates happiness and kindness. She's stunningly beautiful but not intimidating in the least because her goofy quirks pull you in and make you feel like you're one of the cool kids. She works hard and makes tough choices and doesn't complain. She would never ask for help. So her friends are asking for help on her behalf.

If you've got $5, $10, $100 to spare (hey a girl can dream, right?) will you please consider contributing to Colby's gofundme campaign? Colby needs to focus all her energy on getting well and regaining her strength after treatment. She shouldn't be worried about bill payments or buying groceries to feed her family. Well wishes and healthy vibes are also very welcome.

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Right! Let's faff.

Last weekend I was complaining on Twitter about the cold-that-will-not-die and Gayle from The Soup Solution reached out to offer me some soup. It was totally unexpected and kind, and her soups are so tasty, that I need to gush about it for a minute. Social media can be so noisy and you can get sort of lost in it sometimes, you know? And then someone reaches out and says "hey! I see you!" and reminds you that the community there still exists, you just have to dig through the sponsored posts and ads a little bit. Anyway. If you're local, I totally recommend The Soup Solution. Great soup. Great people. A+.

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Erin Condren is having a huge sale so now is the time to buy your Life Planner if you haven't already. I'm a huge Life Planner fan and don't think I'll ever give up my paper planner. If you use my referral code, I'll earn Erin Condren bucks so *bats eyelashes* please, pretty please use this link to do your Erin Condren shopping and use FRIENDS25 for 25% off your purchase through October 25th.

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My friend Taslim wrote about her definition of success and I keep coming back to it to read it again and again. She's a smart lady and she's definitely got the hamster wheel in my brain spinning this week. How do you define your success?

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We're supposed to have some sun this weekend so I should probably take Grady to the pumpkin patch for some seasonal fun. What are you up to this weekend?