This Is It

I feel like this could be a dark post regarding subject matter, but it isn’t how I feel at all. 

Under quarantine and with jeopardized  immune system I’ve primarily stayed at home. 

I’m going to declare now that I feel incredibly happy and light. I think I can justify to you why I feel that way. 

My backyard is a paradise and I’ve never appreciated living here like I do during this quarantine. I used to lament about how far away I was from everything. Now, I’ve come to realize, there’s really nowhere if rather be. 

I started my new chemo (Neratinib) and the side effects can be rough, but having my Mom here for company has changed my life. Giving in finally (I am stubbornly independent) to having someone help me, and having someone to talk to during the day (most days I wouldn’t speak until Jeff got home!) makes such a difference.  My quality of life is Better then it had been in a long time - even when I felt ‘fine’ on my last treatment. 

I know the change in weather has instantly affected me - I love and thrive in the sun. My dark periods of the past have always started in January and sometimes I was really desperate. 

It could be those reasons but here is my theory:

I’m at peace.

I’m wary to say that so plainly. 

It’s something I’ve battled since my Stage 4 MBC diagnosis in 2016. I did the begging to above. I made a list of things I wanted to achieve. I was sad for so long about a terminal diagnosis. No amount of meditation made me feel better. I was sad underneath it all. I buried it so far down. My meds made it impossible for me to cry. Yet, if you caught me at 2AM or when I forgot to take my medication, the sadness was at surface level and I couldn’t hold it back anymore. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to turn out for me

Years I’ve spent battling this idea. I could never accept it: I’ve spent a lot of time with myself where I’ve gone over my diagnosis - 5 years later and I still can’t believe I have cancer. I always was getting used to this new normal - it never became ‘normal ‘ to me. 

I had an appointment with my oncologist that brought up some sensitive subjects when it was clear I was running low on options. 

Long story short: there is presently no trials I qualify for, Tucatinib is not approved in Canada yet and due to multiple times of stereotactic radiation, two craniotomies and whole brain radiation - there isn’t a lot that can be done up there anymore! (Never say never thought!)

I felt so conflicted and defeated. I hadn’t come this far to let my mental strength break. I didn’t feel at peace with this breast cancer diagnosis though. 

I spoke to my therapist (someone who basically saved me mental health), and she urged me to say something to those I loved.  I pleaded for their reassurance that regardless of what happened to me, they would be okay. 

My therapist expressed me to that this is my time. My life. I can’t take on how you are dealing and processing my diagnosis - I have enough worrying to do on my own. I felt guilt. I think that’s common for those that are critically ill.

Not only did it open up conversation and break a barrier between myself and the people I love the most, it was then I felt automatically free. 

I felt enlightened and it allowed me comfort. I finally felt enabled to make decisions based on just me. How I felt. I’m feeling this was, I actually feel stronger then ever. To have the knowledge that this can go either way and it’s going to be okay - that was the secret for me to go forward. 

I’m not worried going into scans and appointments. It feels so strange. I wondered if writing this was just a way to reassure myself and mask my fear going forward but it isn’t that. I genuinely feel like this is what peace feels like. Something I’ve been struggling to find and achieve for 5 years. Has it really been that long? It has felt like a whole life and I’m the other hand, just a few days. 

In closing, I feel happy going into my next treatment. I understand it will be tough going forward but whatever happens to me next - good or bad - feels like something I can deal with. 

xx

Sam 

5 Ways To Handle A Quarantine

Rethink Breast Cancer

I have started this post so many times. First, it was a look at the downward spiral COVID-19 is bringing to the whole world. Then, it was about how unfair the Coronavirus is on cancer patients. Lastly, I made a “funny” post detailing how hard it was for everyone to live the quarantine life - one that I’m very familiar to.

None of them felt right. I felt like I was over-exaggerating, feeding into the fear mongering. I felt as if I was looking for pity, screaming “Don’t forget about cancer!” during a global pandemic. Being funny seemed wrong; it wasn’t the time or place to feel satisfied with a big ol’ “I told you so!”.

A couple of days ago Jeff asked me if he should still post his pictures of new beer he was carrying on Instagram (@beeratbrowns).He posted a poll asking if his viewers thought it was insensitive and the answer was an overwhelming NO - anything to take my mind off of March 2020 PLEASE!

The best way to describe how I’m feeling right now is happy, sad, and worried all at the same time. It’s how I’ve felt the better part of 4.5 years. It’s likely how most of you are feeling now. 

Everyone is affected; you’ve been laid off, you are elderly, your parents are elderly, can I still walk my dog? My kids are driving me crazy! Amazon workers have the virus?! I can’t eat Chinese food anymore! My massage was cancelled? HOW WILL WE COOK FOR EASTER?! Stay home! Stay home! Should I make my own mask? “My ratings are higher then the finale of the Bachelor!!!!!”. 

You are being asked to work HARDER under dangerous circumstances. You are afraid and lonely and doing your best. 

I’m not going to make this about cancer. Just some things I’ve learned after spending a lot of time alone. Mistakes I’ve made so that you don’t have to make them.

I don’t have kids. I don’t go to the gym or excercise (like at all) (even before cancer). My life is way different then yours. I’m just speaking from my own experience. 

When you’re alone for hours on end, it’s hard to quiet your mind. Your brain jumps to things you could be accomplishing with all of this time, the dread of getting up to another day of nothing, and instead of doing anything, mindlessly scrolling. 

By the time your day has ended you’ve had way too much time to think about what a failure you are - unproductive with your time. You should be doing online yoga, enhancing your cooking skills, cleaning out the graveyard of hair products under your bathroom sink! You should be saving hundreds of dollars (the need for a Nintendo Switch was real though!), and less time worrying about how your artificial nails are going to grow out and watching YouTube videos of stylish quarantine haircuts. 

Mood swings are normal when your mind goes from Netflix (Carole Baskin fed her husband to the tigers), to craving someone new to talk to, a change of scenery, and thinking about your inevitable death all in an 8 hour span of time. 

Being at home is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

It caused me years of depression, anxiety, hopelessness and self hatred.

It still does, some days. I told Jeff yesterday that I wasn’t feeling good. Those are the words I use when I can’t describe how I’m feeling or where it’s all coming from. I can talk to my parents on the phone like normal and then hang up and have a break down. 

It sounds great to stay at home every day! 

I’ll write a bestseller, get perfect skin with all of those facemasks I’ll be applying, read all of the books, do all of the things! 

No, you won’t. 

I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to be unproductive sometimes. Even though you have this time, it doesn’t need to be filled. Sometimes taking care of yourself and others means having a nap or eating a bag of chips (I know this isn’t just me). I can’t say this without saying that 75% of the time I don’t abide by these rules. I make myself feel like shit all the time, then I flip on Animal Crossing and I forget what I was worried about to begin with. 

My problem was/is not having a routine. You probably feel that way too. Eating all the time because your meals aren’t structured. Or forgetting to eat, next thing you know it’s 6PM and you’ve only had 2 girl guide cookies and haven’t been outside in two days.

Let me speed up the stay-at-home process for you: 

1) Do not put daily pressure on yourself to be productive.

This doesn’t mean give in to laziness. It means it’s ok to lie on the couch browsing Pinterest for an hour. Balance!!

2) Do not get consumed with all of the negative news

The Ottawa Hospital has something called “My Chart”, where you can access all of your scans and results. I have never ever logged in. 

That’s how I’m able to function. I put severe blinders on. I’m happy to let my health care team tell me what I need to do in exchange for results that will tell me if my cancer is “bigger” or “smaller”. I don’t want detail. When I was newly diagnosed I stayed up until 3AM reading about the life expectancies of breast cancer and had a panic attack. I never googled it again. 

I know this is uncommon, and likely some are thinking how this is negligent, not taking my health into my own hands. I know myself though, and I would get caught in the doom and gloom. I would not be able to separate the overwhelming statistics from leading a good life. 

I’m not saying don’t watch the news. I’m just saying be careful on what you consume. Be mindful of  your mental health. Don’t give in to the person who assures you THEY would never let poisonous chemo into their bodies. They will juice it away! 

Have you tried drinking Alkaline water? (@thecancerpatient)

(Be sure you’re getting your information from legitimate sources (Nancy on Facebook is not a legitimate source) ). 

3) Be mindful when it comes to your diet

Again. Chips. Bagels. Mini donuts. Hot Cheetos. Some of my all time favourite things! 

One time I was staying overnight in the hospital after my last craniotomy and I had slept in chunks of chocolate I had dropped in the bed. The next morning the nurses laughed it off (luckily) knowing it’s was chocolate and not feces. 

In that instant it was okay to binge though - have YOU ever had a craniotomy?! 

Just kidding. You’re allowed to eat snacks. I went overboard for a while thinking all bets were off though when I started staying at home. You pay for it later. With lack of exercise that you normally have, try to adjust for it. Some days are for sour cream and onion chips, some days are for smoothies and long walks (to the end of the driveway). 

4) Get out of bed

This can be synonymous with stop mindlessly scrolling. Stop having anxiety naps. Have the will to get up, get dressed. It may feel like a novelty to video chat without wearing pants, but you still need to prioritize your feeling of self worth. 

I have gone days without looking in a mirror or having a shower. There’s been plenty of days where Jeff has gotten home at 5 and I’m in bed, not having turned any lights on. 

I use the ‘excuse’ that I have cancer (or, for you, quarantining) a lot. That’s fair. We are all going through an unprecedented, weird-ass time. I will tell you though (and my future self in this position) that getting up, showering and taking care of your basic needs has. to. be. a. priority. 

I have never regretted getting up and going. 

 5) Talk to your family, often. 

I talk to my parents and sister every day. 

I have my immediate family. My aunt, my grandmothers, my best friends. I have online friends, work friends, book friends - all those people I now consider my family. They’re always checking in on me. It’s important to reach out to them as well. Especially when you don’t want to. (Talking can mean texting too! I don’t talk to anyone other then Mavvy most days, but I feel just as close to everyone!)

You’ll likely lose touch with some people as well under this isolation. That’s ok. They were just convenient acquaintances anyways.

And an extra!!!!*

Take your medication at the same time each day. 

Your routine is disrupted. You’re used to taking it in the morning at 7AM, on your way to work.

Your routine is disturbed. You’re used to taking it at 9:30PM, but now you’re up past one and you’ve forgotten it altogether.

Tomorrow is a bad day. You can’t wake up. The world is dreary. You skip breakfast to fall back asleep. You get up to go to the washroom and feel guilt that your dog hasn’t been out. You can’t make the effort, though. You just feel so down. You skip your morning medication because you’re out of it. Did you eat dinner? You have less energy because of the lack of food.

Sound familiar?

This was basically two years of my life. It is a never ending circle. You lose track of what day it is. 

Just trust me. You don’t want to go through this. Do the right thing. Take your meds on time. 

* This won’t apply to everyone, but if it does: this is my most important piece of advice. 

peopleiveloved

In the end, I’m not going to tell you that I am the perfect quarantine-er. It felt icky to write things for you to aspire to when I knew them not to be true myself. 

I think the biggest takeaway is treat your mental health the exact same as your physical health. At a time when it’s so easy to get lost in your own head - reach out to loved ones, be mindful of your eating, force yourself get out of bed, don’t worry so much about your productivity (chase what makes you happy instead!), and turn off CNN. 

Dare I say it?

We’re... all.. in this.. together!

xx

Sam

“I Was Diagnosed With Breast Cancer at 24 - Here’s What It Taught Me”

Sarah Maxey

Back in 2014, I was originally diagnosed with Stage 3 Breast Cancer. It was shocking. I left my job immediately; going on to do six rounds of chemotherapy, a mastectomy, and a full month of radiation (with my mom! Remember when she was diagnosed with cancer right after me? Sometimes I feel like it wasn’t acknowledged enough because I was the priority).

During this time, I started my blog. Through writing I found a true way to express myself. I found something to work on, giving me purpose. It helped me sort out, record and remember my feelings. Mostly, though, I was able to connect with you guys. 

This February marks my fourth year with Metastatic Breast Cancer and this past November marked FIVE years since being diagnosed with cancer. My life has completely changed, so when I re-read the words I had written below, I smiled and nodded, tearing up at how innocent and unknowing I was about the future. I feel like 5 years later, they still ring true.

I read this now and I feel like I want to hold her hand. To stop anything from popping her bubble of a cancer-free life. That the view from those rose coloured glasses would come true. I yearn to be this naive again, but it hurts to think that way. I don’t know her anymore. So instead I’ll leave it here. 

“I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 24 - here’s what it taught me”

Originally published on Hello Giggles July 14th, 2015. 

When I was 23, I had a couple of things on my mind. How I was going to stop my face from breaking out? Wasn’t that supposed to stop after I left my teens? Could I somehow swing going out for drinks when I worked at 5 a.m. the next morning. 

What I wasn’t thinking about was the small, hard lump I’d found in my breast late July 2014. I also wasn’t thinking about renewing my health card or going for a checkup at my family doc. I’m young and healthy. Drinking Starbucks a few times a day is healthy… right

By the time October rolled around that small lump had turned into a large, rock hard one and I was getting nervous. I took the leap and made a doctors appointment. My family doctor assured me: At your age, it’s likely just a cyst! Luckily, she was cautious enough to book me in for an ultrasound. When the imaging came back, I was rushed in for a biopsy (ouch). When they called me to tell me they would like me to come in on November 18, 2014 to discuss my results, I was too shy to say… November 18?! That’s my 24th birthday!

I had pancakes for birthday breakfast and told my boss at work that I was having some testing done but it was likely nothing to worry about. I remember thinking: OK, even if they did find something, I’ll take a few weeks off work, have it removed, be back for the Christmas rush. No biggie!

My mom, boyfriend and I went to the hospital where my surgeon told me the big news: Sam, it came back as a cancer. The rest of the appointment was a bit of a blur, but I remember hearing some scattered terms: chemo, losing my hair before Christmas, leaving my job immediately, surgery and radiation. I was given a letter stating that it would take a full year to beat this thing… so my battle with stage 3 breast cancer would begin on my 24th birthday and end on my 25th

I’ll spare you all of the details. Chemo sucks. It isn’t as bad as it’s made out to be in Stepmom (for me: very little puking, tremendous weight gain). Surgery, in my case, was a single mastectomy (no, they don’t let you keep your nipple). Radiation is exhausting and the open wounds and burns aren’t easy to deal with.

No one can prepare you for the fear and loneliness that accompanies a cancer diagnosis. Your friends and family won’t understand what you’re going through but they’re going to try really, really hard. You’ll start to see everyone around you get purple circles around their eyes and you realize that you aren’t the only one fighting this battle. Everyone will be strong in front of you but when the door is closed, everyone starts to fall apart.

I’m lucky. My cancer was caught at stage 3: it had spread from my breast to my lymph nodes but it had not gone any further then that. Had I waited any longer, my diagnosis could have been much, much different. My genes were tested and my results came back negative.

I finished my radiation a week ago, and I’ve had some time to reflect. Here is what facing breast cancer at 24 has taught me.

People are really good

It’s very easy to believe that our world is full of gun-slinging, blood-thirsty villains. But when you get cancer, your small town will rally for you. I wasn’t in a good place when I was diagnosed: I didn’t have health benefits and I definitely didn’t have any money. There were bottle drives, fundraisers, charity hockey tournaments in my name and even a full page in our local newspaper. Family, friends, friends of friends, strangers, colleagues, schoolmates: everyone started sending me their well wishes. People want to help in a time of need. People are good.

Hopes and dreams are nothing without your health

I love to work. For a while, it was kind of my thing. I worked a lot: 50, sometimes 60 hours a week for the last few years. I chalked it up to good experience, getting ahead. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I realized that I was very sick. And no, I don’t mean with cancer. My mental health had suffered, my skin was breaking out, my weight was on the rise and I was tired, unable to think straight. I had not taken any time for myself in years and it all caught up to me at once. Don’t wait for something like cancer to make you take a time out. Without your health, you can’t achieve your hopes and dreams.

Physical appearances just don’t matter that much

I am a girly girl. I love nail polish and shiny things. When I went in for my surgery, they changed me into a blue robe. I wasn’t allowed any makeup, nail polish, jewelry, or even a hat. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw me for the first time: bald, pale, and not looking very Sam-esque. But… I still felt the same on the inside. I still knew I was in there, the same old me. My outer appearance was shockingly different but I knew that it didn’t matter. And you know what? My new appearance made me more relatable. People are talking to me because they are interested in what I have to say, what I think. Since I decided to focus less on the outside and more on the inside, I have made more fulfilling relationships, I have been able to focus on what makes me feel full and happy at the end of the day. Plus, I’ve saved a ton of money on hair product while I’m at it. Hobbies are fun.

Make time to do what you love

If you don’t know what you love (which is where I found myself on a cold afternoon when a reporter asked me, so what do you like to do in your spare time?) then just try everything. This winter I read a pile of books, I coloured in colouring books, I started weaving, I learned to knit, I learned to cook, I scrapbooked and art journal-ed… the list goes on. It took cancer (and a year off) for me to explore hobbies, but the creative freedom, expression and sense of accomplishment you feel when you complete something as small as a colouring book page is incredible. Make time for yourself, whether it’s a bubble bath, a book club or 5 minutes to meditate in the elevator.

Have faith in something

I don’t care what you believe in, but you have to believe in something. One night, when I was going to bed, I was crying so hard I couldn’t stop. I kept asking “Why me?” Suddenly, I abruptly stopped crying and in my head there was a voice that told me “Because you are strong enough to deal with this.”

I have repeated this to myself ever since. I don’t know who, what or why this happened but I have had faith ever since. Little, strange interventions like this happened throughout my treatments. I always did my best to approach my situation with a positive attitude. I went in to my chemo appointments with all my lucky charms: prayer beads, lucky bracelets, healing stones and the socks that I wore when I got the job I love. I’m not an overly religious person, but my best advice to you is this: You have a choice every single morning when you wake up. Stay positive. Surround yourself with only the things that will lift you up.

Like yours, my story is longer and more complicated then I can fit into an article. But here’s what I want to leave you with: Cancer can happen to you. It happened to me. I’m just a girl. Cancer can happen at any age, on any day, in any situation. You are not exempt from cancer, or for any other potentially scary thing in the world. But this isn’t something to fear. It’s something that can motivate you. Be proactive, and appreciate what you have, whatever stage you’re in.

Samantha Price is a 24 year old business graduate who works in visual merchandising. Outside of her work, she has a handsome boyfriend and two sweet kitties (Oatmeal & Pancakes). She spends her quiet time reading (blogs, books, magazines, cereal boxes), pinning, scrapbooking, and watching Netflix. 

To leave on a high note, here’s what we’ve been up to this week:

 I’m off to enjoy some beautiful February weather (we don’t usually get 5 degree weather in our Canadian winter!)

xo

Sam

The (real) Reason I Keep Breaking My Arm - Narcotics!!

I feel like I used to tell myself “I’m not that bad” but I always knew there was going to be a “...yet” at the end of the sentence. First it was “Well I’m thankful it’s not in my brain”, “I’m thankful this chemo isn’t too hard on me”, “I’m grateful that my bones are proving to be stable”. Every time I disprove one of these ideas I scare myself. It’s not one thing that’s happening but it seems to be coming for me all at once. Individually I could handle and treat this fine... when so many things happen at once, I worry. 

This summer has been both fun and difficult, stressful and sad. I’ve lost a lot of friends, aquaintances and family to this disease. I’ve had to think about the big picture while looking at what choices I make in the little picture will affect that. These decisions aren’t light, they torture me, and I can get advice but ultimately the decision is mine. I’ve had to become comfortable with what I can accept as a good quality of life - which I keep having to lower my standards on.

At the end of June, I slipped at a wedding (Nelly came on so obviously I had to jump up) and my humerus broke (upper arm). Before all of this, I had been on bone strengthening drugs and I wasn’t told it was this bad. I went to the emergency dept in Carleton Place and they gave me a half cast (while also cutting an arm off my beautiful dress) (the one I was like “I love this I’ll finally spend money on something good quality so I can wear it again”)(not).

Stonefield wedding - beautiful &so much fun.

They gave me Ketamine in the CP hospital which was an experience all on it’s own (“Oh, I get it.. none of this was real” as I was trying to convince everyone this was an alternate universe. My nurse holding my hand as I was scream crying.. #horrormoviestuff) I demanded pain medication even when it had only been 15 minutes from my last dose. I had to get my x-rays done twice - which was already unbearable having to manipulate the broken bone - only to have no access to them when I got transferred to the General, where they  had to them all over again.

Top - Arm Jewelery / Agony Face

Bottom - broken/with surgery and metal rod 

The paramedics left me alone in a back room and my family had to come find me. I was crying again, nothing with me, nothing around me, no nurse call bell. A resident came over to let me know that there was “other people ahead of me” and I would have to wait. My mom told me I burst out yelling  “OH YEAH? DO THEY ALL HAVE CANCER TOO?”. She walked away, flustered. Oopsies!

I ended up having  a surgery at the hospital but first,  I demanded handheld fans (thanks Aunt Lorraine & Uncle Ric!). I spent a week afterwards in the hospital, sent home with a sling but told I could take it off.., So I went on to bluesfest and cottaging and swimming etc., wearing my sling but taking it off frequently. They told me to excercise it and get it moving again. 

 

1 / my staples come out from my first surgery 

2 / jeff and I grossed out 

Jeff and I had our wedding anniversary and it started with a trip to the General. My doctor looking at my first arm scan and exclaimed “Oh no”. Just what you want to hear! They had put in a metal rod and at the bottom two screws kept the bone straight and in place. One of the screws from the surgery had fallen out and was floating around in my arm. 

Foo Fighters / the night I may have lost second screw #noregrets

Leading to my next surgery. Replace both screws and make it straight again. I went in on Tuesday and only had the surgery Friday. I took up a bed doing NOTHING for 5+ days, missed family holidays, and fasted (one day from midnight-9PM) in case I were going in for a surgery. I then missed a weekend away to heal that we had been planning since February. 

They sent me home saying to be “extra careful” this time, and if I needed another surgery (in my head I was thinking hell no), it was going to be invasive - they would put more metal in my arm to keep it from breaking further. I was adamant that afterwards my sling was always on. Funny, though, because they told me with the metal rod, I would never break it again...

This Thursday, I went to an appointment to talk about arm radiation - to help with pain and to strengthen my bones. 

As I left that appointment and opened the car door, I broke my arm above my elbow. Holding my arm, we rushed to the emergency room at the General again. They wrapped up may arm and gave me what I think may be the ugliest sling of all time - attached to my neck, a piece of fabric hanging down and holding on to what seems like a felt loop to put my arm im

I miss my old sling because it doubled as an iPhone holder as well..

At this time I was in shock they weren’t going to do anything to fix it - other then giving me heavy duty painkillers (which made me barf in the hospital waiting room) and the sling, which feels less stable then my last. Although, thinking through the situations  a few days later, I get it. They don’t want to make me go through a big surgery if I don’t have to. They want it to heal on its own. I want that too. Yet when I hear my bones constantly clicking together, part of me just wants the surgery now to get it out of the way once and for all. 

While this was all happening, I was told my chemo had failed. They gave me options and I got into a clinical trial (ZW125). My arm really distracted me from focusing on a treatment that ultimately had the chance to really help my quality of life, or lead me into some really bad places. My liver is clear now, my cancer isn’t progressing fast, but this chemo has only been tried by 60 people in the world. It’s in its first phase of trials. There’s little evidence that it works as of yet, but it’s being done out of the General, my oncologist (whom I really trust) recommended I do it, and there is more hope for my family - this could be my miracle drug. Who really knows?  I’ll still have a proven drug if this fails - although it may be a bit more harsh.

Clinical trials are very specific about what you do or take when you’re on them. I’ve had to test my blood, check my heart, have a lung biopsy and an impending brain MRI. If my brain is “stable” meaning I can have the same tumours as before, they just can’t be bigger. That’s the last piece for qualifying completely.

If I had this major surgery, I’d have to put off the trial or go on another drug. I will have been off chemo for a long time when/if I can finally receive this new drug, and that makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to push it back anymore.

I’ve had a lot going on in my personal life, on top of letting your husband become a caregiver (thank you, Jeff, for learning how to straighten hair, use bobby pins, and shave my legs) which is such a loss of privacy but I’ve learned creates an incredible amount of intimacy. 

Jeff’s grandpa passed on July 27th, after having bladder cancer spread and was in a lot of pain near the end. It was sad - and scary - because I’ve never seen anyone in that state before. My heart lurched into my throat, because just a few weekends ago, I was talking to him. It was scary, knowing that I’ll be the same.  That makes me feel selfish, but was one of the emotions I felt at the time. . 

Roger looked like Don Draper from Mad Men; so dapper, well dressed, charisma, a business man that I know Jeff looked up to. A beautiful life and love story, he had such amazing kids that have all birthed amazing grandkids, one now being my husband. Cousins that were always welcome and warm  to me ane nieces and nephews that show so much kindness and gratitude. I am so proud of how they handled the chaotic last few weeks. Grandpa always said “who’s Marilyn Monroe over there!” when he talked about me and touched my real hair and asked me real questions that no one else would really understand. 

This was the only part of the post I cried while writing, and I always remember how lucky I am to have been accepted and loved by this family. 

I promise I’ll do better at updates. I’ll know a lot more by the end of the weekend. 

xx 

sam

That Time I Went On An (un-edited) Rant

I get upset by things because I’m a human - not always because of the cancer. I haven’t talked a lot about that. I’ve talked about being sad, but not angry. Upset. I normally don’t post about these feelings - I let them sit, simmer - sleep on it, or talk to Jeff, my friends or my family about it. I didn’t think they were “appropriate” to write down here. 

Then I thought.. do I really care?

In honouring the transparency I’ve always shared since I was diagnosed in 2014, I thought about it today and decided - hurt feelings or not - I’m going to share what I’m feeling, just as I always have. This is tough because I never want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but in not writing it down, I feel even worse.

I’ve been having all these thoughts weighing on me and I felt I needed somewhere to dump them. So it may seem sporadic, un-organized, or emotionally charged. That’s because it is.

My trip to Nicaragua was amazing without a doubt. I have so many great things I experienced, learned, and am so grateful for. That’s for another post though. In this post, I’m going to say, Nicaragua really highlighted to me how disabled I feel. I am very slow, and my right foot is almost robotic - not allowing me very much balance. Stairs, mountains, hills - all things I try and avoid. I grip to Jeff most of the time because I’m so scared of falling (and rightfully so, because I’ve fallen quite a bit). I had to spend time looking at the ground, wondering where I’m going to step next instead of seeing the beautiful sites and scenery. I have an amazing husband and friends that reassure me all the time that they want to wait for me. That I’m not a burden to them. When they wait for me at the top of the stairs, or get me things because it’s harder for me to get up once I’m sitting down. I love them for that. Deep down, though, my lack of independence has been so hard on me. I’m embarrassed to let others help me. I’m ashamed I can’t do some things on my own. I liked walking around, shopping or attending concerts by myself. I was sick, but I still felt like me. 

As well as my right foot, I lost the use of my right hand. Losing the ability to use my right hand (which was my dominant) has changed everything for me. I can’t write - which I’m reminded of whenever I sign a receipt, am asked to fill out a medical form, sign my passport or write in a birthday card. I used to journal a lot (my own  private escape) which I can’t do anymore either. I can’t do most crafts (scrapbooking, colouring, etc). I can’t paint my own nails, I taught myself to use my left hand to put on makeup or dry my hair, but eyeliner? That’s been retired from my routine. Putting sheets back on the bed, trying to use a razor, zipping up a jacket. 

Have I said “I can’t” enough yet? 

I am complaining here, and I hate it. I should be feeling lucky that I’m still able to have fun, go out and do things, like go on trips. Sometimes I don’t want to feel lucky though. Why should I feel lucky? Sometimes I want to scream (instead I normally get grumpy and cry - sorry Jeff). I have Stage IV breast cancer - I don’t have the option to have children, have a fulfilling career, or grow older - and I should feel lucky?

I am also starting to have a love/hate relationship with social media. I want to post on there, but I feel a judgement pass sometimes. You’re having a great life. You’re social! Energetic. Going on trips, having drinks! Of course I’m not going to post that some days I stay in bed until 3. I’m not going to post all the pills I take. The wicked side effects I get (I’ve thrown up so much that I will ask Jeff to get the dog food to smell - speeds up the process because that makes me sick right away!). Social media, for those that are sick or not, is only showing one side of us. It is not transparent.

I heard someone say “I could never do all of that when I was sick”. The way it was said felt judgemental, like I should be taking better care of myself. It made me doubt what I was (happily) doing. 

There are other women I follow that have advanced cancer, like myself. I always find such pleasure and comfort in being able to connect with them, share their experiences, keep in touch. Sometimes, though, I find cancer pages with misconceptions and I get very mad. I already find that there is a big gap in understanding what Stage IV breast cancer is. Recently, I felt like I had to say something to someone that had a lot of influence and followers. In turn I was blocked and left feeling hurt, wishing I hadn’t said anything at all. My pure intentions came out the wrong way - angry, upset. 

Today, I told this story to a group I was in. Instead of support, the laughing afterwards made it feel like a ‘first world problem’. Most people agreed: don’t say anything next time, don’t have that negativity in your life, saying ‘this is why I hate social media’. I felt young. I felt stupid. I felt regret that I even mentioned it, even though it had been something that had been really bothering me. 

There were two other times that I felt judged in a room that was meant to be non-judgemental, because of my young age. I bet they weren’t meaning to hurt me, but I felt sad anyways. 

I’m so desperate to meet others in my shoes that age never mattered. In fact, I was definitely the “most sick” person in attendance! Still I felt like no one could, or wanted, to relate to me. My age felt like a barrier for the first time. 

Then, I thought, maybe it was because I’m no longer bald. Wearing a wig. Puffy from steroids. I found it much easier to claim sick when there was that visual to go along with it.

In reality I shouldn’t have gone, and I know that. I wasn’t ready to face my reality yet and this group made me angry. Usually it happens this way: I’m the one in the wrong but I blame it on others.

I feel so confused with all the trials and alternative therapies I read about. I would like someone to explain to me what I should do next. My family doctor refers me to my oncologist, my oncologist refers me to my phychiatrist, they recommend me to the OICC and they want to charge me $120 just to see a naturopath, to recommend me treatments. Do I stop this treatment and start a new clinical trial? What if I don’t actually get the drug? What if it fails, what if it works? There are unconfirmed studies that cannabis crosses to the brain, but I went for an appointment that left me with $100 of oil that left me feeling so high I couldn’t function. Even then, I learned, that dose was too low to even be used as a treatment! 

I think a lot of patients have the same confusion as I do - it is hard to be your own advocate, do your own research when you’re tired and worn down. These aren’t pleasant things to think about - especially if you’re NOT looking to take control, like me. I never want to know how many tumours I have, details on how things are working, or keep my paperwork or documents after scans and blood work. I just need to be told if I’m doing ok or not, in basic terms. I find all of the options overwhelming. 

I think I have social anxiety - sometimes I leave my text messages unread, don’t reply for days or often not at all. Same with phone messages (I’ve missed more then one appointment because of this), or cancel plans because it feels like too much. Usually it’s something I don’t want to think about, talk about, or I just don’t know how to respond. Then I feel guilty, and not wanting to explain myself I put it off a little more. A vicious cycle cycle in the end. 

I feel anxiety having to plan out my week since I don’t drive. I feel intense guilt asking people to come to me - or asking for others to skip work to take me to appointments, etc. I cancel or don’t do things because of the driving. I’ve seen this mentioned often in online groups, and I definitely understand, which is why I’m mentioning it. 

And I know what you’re thinking!  “SAM, YOU SHOULDN’T FEEL THAT WAY AT ALL!!”, re: all of the above. 

I do, though. It’s not you, it’s me. I know it’s wrong but I’m not sure I can feel another way. Trust me, I’ve tried. 

Anyways, that’s the start to my week and how I feel today. Other then reading, my hobbies have dwindled, so I have a lot of time for thinking. My mood changes often and tomorrow is a new day. I want to change my record player and storage layout (big dreams) but I should probably make my bed and put away the three piles of laundry (they’ve been sitting there for over a week).

I’m not going to edit this one. I’m going to leave it as is because A) it takes a lot of time and B) trying to be genuine. You know.

If you made it to the end, thanks for reading this word vomit of a post. I feel better already. 

Sam

2016: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

2015 was a pretty crappy year that sometimes felt never-ending. We had some fun and laughs, but overall I can't say I'm sad to see it go (#smellyalater). I could lament about how I had to do chemotherapy, have a full mastectomy, or endure 25 brutal rounds of radiation but instead, I'm going to talk about my hair.

It seems recently, hair has been on my mind. I have always remembered my dreams pretty vividly - normally they're a reflection of some part of my subconscious mind, likely including the people I stalked on facebook the day before, so it's safe to say they end up being pretty... weird.

The last few weeks though, I've been having crazy recurring dreams though, and they all have to do with my hair!

In my dreams, I "wake up" and realize enough time has passed and I have long hair again! I spend my whole dream running my fingers through my hair and putting it up in a ponytail and taking it out again. It's so vivid if I close my eyes I can actually feel my hair between my fingers.

Now I'm not a dream analyzer or anything, but part of me chooses to believe that this is a metaphor for something bigger then just... hair. I am in such a transitional phase of my life right now. I can't fully be normal yet - whenever I feel normal, I get that cancer-pit in my stomach. I look in the mirror and it reminds me of how much has happened in such a short span of time. I think the "normal" I was forced to deal with this last year - appointments, treatments, surgeries - that I just dealt with, putting my head down, is catching up to me and I realize how not normal everything that happened was. (Why do I feel like I have said this before? Oh? I have? Right... moving on!)

Anyways, the big hair metaphor: Here I am with a short haircut... It's cute, I kind of like it, but I know it's not very "me". I don't feel like myself yet. My short hair isn't something that necessarily bothers me daily, but every once in awhile I catch myself in the mirror and think - who's that girl?

So, a bigger metaphor for my life right now: the transitional phase. I'm happy, I love my life, but I still don't feel like I'm back to normal yet. I know I will move on, and I know it will be different (just like my hair, which is choosing to be brown and my hairstylist said she thinks it will be CURLY!). I'm just not there yet. Neither is this mop on my head.

Anyways, Happy 2015 to all of my family, friends and followers. I love you all and I am so grateful for all of your support this past year. Instead of remembering how shitty this last year was, I choose to remember all of the love that surrounded me, the body that fought for me and helped me to grow strong once again, and for having such a great family to fall back on every time I felt like it was too much.

The only resolution for 2016? Last year I said it was "Get Healthy". This year it's....

(Thanks @gilmansteph for the photo!)

Cheers!

xx

Sam

 

The Time Is Now: One Year Later

One year ago today, I woke up to Jeff bringing me pancakes in bed and a card for my birthday that promised he would be there for me "no matter what happens".

365 days ago I was told I had cancer.

I sat on this post for a very, very long time. I knew I wanted to write something to mark the date. I have been sitting here, trying to determine exactly how I feel, and yet nothing I wrote felt right.

So, I decided to write a little post to myself. That is a very lame and cheesy thing to do, I know. I try and avoid the lame and cheesy but I had cancer, and it's my cancerversary, and I'm also turning 25 and am officially "an old lady" (too much Sons of Anarchy) so I feel like it's warranted. Story of my life.

So here it goes. If I had known a year ago what I know now, what would I have said?

Dear Sam,

A year ago the thought of writing yourself a letter would have made you laugh in my face. I know that. You would have told me you were way too busy to read it. You probably also would have been knee deep in boxes and on your twelfth hour of work as well, but let's not even go there.

You don't know this yet but 2015 is about to be the craziest year of your life. Seriously though, everything is about to change - and I don't just mean your hair colour. Although you will have pink hair this year (and no hair for that matter, sorry to tell you). Remember that time you played around with wigs when you worked at a salon? Yeah, well, you're about to become an expert on them.

I wish I could prepare you for the shock you're going to be in when the doctor says the big "C" word. To say you were in full denial was a real understatement. The devastation is unfathomable. I am so sorry.

I can't even begin to comfort you, but you learn quickly that, like anything else in life, the pain numbs out after awhile. It's sad to say you become used to life with cancer, but you do.

You sleep for about a week straight (amongst all of the appointments), and I hope you always remember how much clearer your mind and focus are when you're well rested. I don't just mean to deal with the cancer, I mean to deal with life after cancer as well. If there's one thing you should take away is that you need to sleep more. Everything seems so much more manageable after a good nights sleep.

I think I always knew mentally you could endure a lot, but I didn't know how much you would be able to endure physically. Chemotherapy ain't a joke. There will be that one night when you eat too many snacks, get too excited about Christmas presents, and then proceed to spend the rest of your night hugging the toilet until Jeff calls the nurse to knock you out. Guess what? You learn your lesson. Thank goodness, this only happens once.

When you finally go for surgery, you are fully ready for them to remove the cancer. You just want it gone and you aren't nervous. I wish you would have been more mentally prepared for how it will affect you. A year later, looking in the mirror at an uneven scar, you still find it very hard to come to terms with.

I'm so proud of you for talking about what you're going through. Looking back on it now, I don't know how you got the courage to do it. I don't think I could have. I think the fear of the unknown really motivated you to connect with others, and it worked. You very rarely felt alone.

One time you asked yourself if you were going to die. You only ask once, though. You will cry, and cry, and sit on the ground hugging your knees wondering if this is it for you (But I really do want to get married! I want to have children and see them grow up! I am just starting my life, how can it be over already? Do I really never get to go to Disney World again?), and all of a sudden something washes over you and you're calm. Something is telling you you're strong enough to deal with this. You repeat that over and over. I hope you continue to for the rest of your life. It's a great mantra.

Once you invest time in your hobbies, I hope you never lose them. Keep investing time into reading, writing, creating, reflecting. It keeps you, "you".

Things don't happen by chance. People will be introduced into your life at the time you need them most, and it isn't a coincidence, it's fate. Life gives you what you need. Trust that, always. (How you nourish it and what you do with it is up to you, though).

You have really great family, friends and colleagues who really step up to bat for you this year. Remember them, cherish them, give back to them over the years that follow. Don't take all they have given you, and given up for you this year, for granted.

Take some deep breaths and allow yourself to feel all the feels. You're not going to feel so positive some days. That's okay. Some days you won't even get up or turn on a light, and instead will binge listen to Serial for 12 hours. That's okay, too. Just don't make it a habit.

A year goes by really, really fast. You make all these grandiose plans for your time "off" and then next thing you know it's passed you by. This is typical of life, I think. Not just cancer-life, real life too. Make the moments count. Now's the time.

PS:

Put on the cream they tell you to use after radiation. Why are you so lazy!!! Your skin is coming off in sheets, and you still forget to use that cream! You crazy lady.

Love, 

Sam of 2015

What Life Looks Like Now

It's been two months since my last blog post and I've been having mixed feelings about it!

Part of me is so happy that I have taken my life back. I have really been able to relax over the last month. I've started feeling like myself again. I also started back to work!

The other part of me is so sad, because I truly love to blog and connect with those of you that take the time to peek into my crazy life.

I've had a few people ask me how life has been and how the transition from bed-ridden cancer diagnosis to a full return to work (more like, return to life!) has been. So, as I'm off on this beautiful November day, I was sitting in my reading chair and thought I would write you up a post about what my post cancer life is looking like!

I spent the majority of the last two months indulging in all of my favourite things. I got to take a fall cottage getaway with my best friends, have a crazy Halloween, spend Thanksgiving being EXTRA grateful this year with my family and friends, watch two of our best friends get married, and of course, plan and execute some absolutely fantastic fundraisers in benefit of the Run for the Cure. I'm so happy to report that my team was able to raise over $10 000 for cancer research. I was so proud and received such amazing closure that day. I truly learned that fundraising is a real skill and learned SO much. Mainly, starting our campaign earlier to avoid September burnout like this year...........

 

I have been listening to new music and rediscovering the old (new Ellie Goulding, the Amy Winehouse obsession is back, and of course some new One Direction ). I'm realizing how relaxing cooking can be, and continuing in the habit of reading 4 different books at a time and getting all my story-lines occasionally mixed up.

 

 

However, life is life, so unfortunately it hasn't been all smiles! I actually struggled quite a bit since my last blog post. Losing a friend to cancer makes the reality of this disease very, very real. It was not something that you just get over. It makes you question everything, and, ask "Why me?" for the umpteenth time (Why Me? seems to be a recurring question on this blog. If I didn't already have a perfectly fitting name I would just name this blog "Why Me?"). In honour of this, I made a little list of the top 5 struggles I've personally had in my return to life post-cancer diagnosis.

Top 5 Post-Cancer Struggles

1) Anxiety

It isn't the kind of anxiety over having a zit or wondering why someone isn't texting you back. It is real, full blown,  can't breath panic type anxiety that hits you when you least expect it. Namely staring at your ceiling at 3AM when your cats just won't shut the hell up and you've been googling "why is my hand numb" and you're on page 44 of a thread on WebMD and everyone is telling you that you've developed a second cancer.

You realize you took this whole year to rid your body of cancer only to realize that for the rest of your life you're going to live with the notion that it could come back.

I first started having this worry when I put all of my beautiful chemo hats in a box to take to donate to the cancer center. I started thinking, maybe I shouldn't part with these. Maybe I may need them again. Then I started looking at my wig, my bestie for those few months last winter, and I had to stow her back under my bed. I kept saying, you just never know. I ended up having the courage to donate the hats, but the wig still sits under my bed. I'm just not ready yet.

I had these really crazy shoulder pains for awhile that I was sure were bone pain, an early sign of stage 4 cancer. I had ghost pains in my breast that had been removed. Some nights, I couldn't sleep with the anxiety that I was sure my cancer had returned.

I've heard from others that the nerves, while they never disappear, will lessen as your life becomes less "cancer' consumed. It's important to remember the feeling is normal and when you're having any concerns your oncologist is usually more then open to checking it out.

2) A deep sense of loss

It was 5AM, I was walking to the bus to go to work, and I had this deep feeling of sadness come over me. It just seems to hit sometimes. The whole, "I cannot believe I actually just had cancer" thing. Telling someone the other day "On Christmas last year I was recovering from chemotherapy" just seemed like the craziest thing. I am still in shock that this whole year even happened to me.

I get that kind of feeling in your stomach that you get when you're in a big fight with a friend or you've had a really bad breakup or you've lost a pet. I am seriously mourning my cancer. I spent a whole year living with it, battling it every single morning when I woke up, wondering what side effect or appointment I would have next.

This morning, I officially closed my file with CCAC which provided me home care. I don't need care anymore, because I'm in the clear. It just feels like I am moving on from what was such a big part of my life for the past year, and I never want to forget how hard it was.

Sometimes I go a full day where I haven't even thought about my cancer at all. Then I feel so guilty. I feel like I'm doing a disservice to myself, and everything I've been through, to just move on.

3) Aches & Pains

Okay so if you're like me and had a hard time with bone and joint pain during your chemo, chances are you weren't the most active. I had the hardest time returning back to work for my first 3 shifts. After my first day I literally felt like I had done the toughest work out of all time (and one time way back when I had done the Gillian Micheals Shred, and I couldn't even sit on the toilet for a week and I think it was actually worse then that).

My body isn't in the shape it was when this all started. I am realizing how HARD it is to get back into shape once you're out of shape. It seriously sucks. Getting winded running up a set of stairs? My life, every.single.day.

4) Struggling To Do It All

Okay, so this is something I seem to be continuously learning and re-visiting so it may be a life long lesson for me.

I signed up for a course at Algonquin back in August: History of Furniture and Design. It was Thursday nights from 7-10. Most people in the course were going for their diploma in Interior Decorating. I was just doing it for... fun.

Until I went back to work, I was exhausted, and the idea of being in class until 10PM and then going to work for 6AM seemed ridiculous.

I started reading this book called Essentialism where I found the following image:

I realized this is a good example of my life. I am interested in so many different things, and I invest all of this time into learning a little bit about everything. I realized that even with this course, I wouldn't become an expert on the History of Furniture, even though I was spending 3 hours in class and about 3 hours on homework per week.

I decided I wanted to invest all of my time into my return to work and my recovery. Returning to work after a year off would be a learning curve as is. When you're me, and you realize the way you were working was all wrong and you essentially need to change everything you were doing, it's a REAL learning curve.

So, I dropped my course. Surprisingly, I did so with very little guilt. I was missing reading books for fun. I learned SO much in the few weeks I was there, and it is something I would like to pick back up again later in life, but the timing was all wrong.

You can't do it all. Sometimes you have to focus your energies on becoming an expert on one thing then being somewhat knowledgeable on a bunch of different subjects.

5) Getting back Into a Routine

I spent a year either sick and in bed, sleeping in until 11 and staying up until 4, and basically doing whatever in the heck made me feel better at the time being (because I had cancer so that basically gave me a free pass to eat chips in bed and re-watch all 10 seasons of ER).

That being said, it was always hard for me to have nothing to do most days, when all of my friends and family were working. I felt very inadequate and unproductive. So, I thought I would love getting back into a routine!

And I have, don't get me wrong! I am loving having a reason to wake up in the morning again. I went back to work nervous I wouldn't love it anymore, that I changed so much over this year and it wouldn't be a good fit. I went back and felt the opposite. I loved it more then ever.

That doesn't mean that the whole waking up early, working hard and giving up the freedom of cancer life has been easy though! Balancing life and work is hard - now I remember why I was no good at it!

Unplugging after work is something that is still very hard for me. We're all so connected through e-mail, text and our cell phones that I find it hard to "turn off" sometimes when I'm at home. I don't think this is a cancer thing. This is just a life thing that I find I'm still struggling with.

So many of you were so concerned about my work pattern and how I would transition when I returned. Seriously, my first day back I think I counted like 18 messages of people ensuring I wasn't falling back into bad habits.

I'm happy to say that with integrating a planner and organizing my day before I fall asleep I have been able to accomplish more then I ever have, and in less time.

So... everyone. Back off! (Kidding. Love you. But seriously. I am fine.)

  

In other news, "The Un-Organized Mind" was named the blog of the month by Rethink Breast Cancer. Super exciting!! So for all you new readers... Hi!

Despite struggling a bit, I've declared this "the winter of soup" and have started by making a spicy hot & sour soup, a potato soup and a hearty winter stew. Turns out when your hands are full of food and your timer is going off, you don't have as much time to look at your phone so it's a healthy way to relax. Plus, now Jeff can't tell everyone that I've never made him a meal in the 6.5 years we've been together!

I've also been reading quite a few good books, one of which I mentioned above called "Essentialism" which I'd recommend you check out if you find you're working so hard and never feeling very productive. It teaches the art of saying no and prioritizing, so you can complete your best work. If you're looking for a funny but rewarding read, check out "Furiously Happy" by Jenny Lawson. A hilarious take on mental illness (with a great message).

This Saturday I'm getting dressed up for a nice dinner with friends and a party back at our apartment to celebrate my birthday. It feels pretty surreal that my one year cancer-versary is coming up. It feels like it's gone by so fast until I close my eyes and remember how bad the hot flashes were and that feels like forever ago. I would rather not live till I'm 50 then go through menopause and have hot flashes again. KIDDING. Bring on the hot flashes, as I've heard 50 is the new 20.

 Oh, and I should probably tell you: had my first post-cancer mammo and I'm still in the clear. Six more months of living cancer-free! Now that's something to celebrate!

 

Saying Hello from my Herceptin treatment!

xx

Sam

Under (re)Construction: Run For The Cure

Back in the winter, I had a woman reach out to me from the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation asking me if I wanted to do some work with them this fall for the Run for the Cure.

Originally, I was super excited. Then a few things changed.

Firstly, my treatments ended up being more intensive then I thought and I was knocked off my feet. Secondly, my mom was also recovering and mentally, that was a lot to take in.

Besides all of that though, I started to let my mind wander...

When I was diagnosed with cancer I had a lot to think about. What were my best treatment options? When would I be able to return to work? Lastly: how can I give back to a community that has been so overly generous to me?

Despite it being my favorite colour, I had a problem with "pink-washing". There are many articles online that will talk about why we, as survivors, should be opposed to the month of October, the pink ribbon, and all that surrounds it. I was going to write an intensive post about it here, but decided against it. Here's why:

My cancer was removed in April and it was determined that I had a Stage 3, aggressive, triple positive breast cancer (my cancer loves and feeds off of progesterone, estrogen and HER2).

Had this been 10-15 years ago, my options for treatments to prevent a recurrence would have been very slim.

Since this is 2015, and due to phenomenal research, we uncovered a new drug now called Herceptin. In short form, Herceptin treats my HER2 positive receptor: it attaches to breast cancer cells to slow or stop their growth (so, if there is any cancer left inside me, this drug will either stop it from growing or destroy it altogether). It's saved lives and decreased mortality rates exponentially (if you want to learn more about Herceptin, click here).

I go for this treatment every 21 days for a full year.

I also take a type of hormonal therapy, administered as a pill, called Tamoxifen. It blocks estrogen in my body, which prevents cancer cells from developing and growing.

I've also had the opportunity to speak to many women who experienced chemo in the 70's and 80's, before the drugs we take to prevent nausea and improve our quality of life existed. All I can say is that their stories are not pretty. I feel extremely lucky to have had cancer in 2015, and to have maintained a full life during my treatments. This is all thanks to the research advancements in the drugs we can take.

Lastly, I have a few special people in my life that are currently living with stage four breast cancer. Once you are diagnosed as metastatic, your cancer is no longer considered curable. You can live, even thrive, while on treatments, but it will be a constant battle.

These are beautiful people and their only hope now is that we can further research that will work to save lives in the future.

Research is expensive. 

To me, nothing else matters. 

These beautiful people deserve a cure.

Our future mothers, sisters, wives, caretakers, best friends, teachers, bosses... they deserve a cure.

They deserve a full life, to see their children grow old, and to have the necessary treatments to beat this disease.

I'm running for a cure.  

I'm running because those who ran before me helped to save my life. 

I would love to have every single person that has sent me a sweet facebook message or e-mail, a blog comment, a phone call or text message or simply thought about me and my family to join me on October 4th 2015.

        If you're interested, please click here and sign up to be on Team (re)Construction. 

Some additional info...

Don't live in Ottawa?

You can participate on my team ANYWHERE in Canada that is hosting a run! 

Can't make the run date? 

Donations to team (re)Construction are always graciously accepted.

Have an AWESOME idea for a fundraiser?

I am available the entire month of September to help and facilitate... Shoot me off an e-mail here and let's get the ball rolling! 

Feeling shy about joining?

DON'T! Even if we've never met, only met once, fallen out of touch, or you think you CAN'T RUN - don't worry about it!! Most people walk, and I would LOVE to have you on my team! The more the merrier!

And most importantly- become educated:

Think before you pink - this link provides detail into what questions you should ask before purchasing anything that claims to be in support of breast cancer. 

Thank you so much (in advance) for all of your continued love and support. It means the world to us!

Now get your jogging pants on and start practicing... I will see you October 4th!

xx

Sam

Poisoned, Chopped Up & Burnt: A Novel

Rooftop dinner, Ribfest, Soccer games at Landsdowne, Canada day traditions, and s'mores by the fire (featuring the cutest family selfie EVER).

Over the winter, my blog became my friend and confidante, my own way of being "social" when I wasn't able to leave my bed. More recently, however, as the fog has lifted and I have been able to return back to normal, I have been feeling less and less inclined to spend time inside on my computer and feeling more and more inclined to go out and do all the things I have been missing out on.

The first thing I want to do when I am all healed up (more details on my disgusting, terrible, horrible sunburn below...) is jump into a pool and SWIM. It is so hilarious because I have always been a tanning-poolside kind of girl but naturally as soon as I am not allowed to go swimming, it's all I can think about. Soo typical.

I have been busy. I always like to keep busy, but my life the past month has re-defined what busy means to me. Going to the hospital every single day is time consuming, draining, and frustrating. The only benefit has been the hangout time my mom and I have had: we've had the best adventures,  incorporating fun lunch dates, (window) shopping trips and car dance parties into our insanely long hospital afternoons.

Radiation has not been at the same time every day, which has made it nearly impossible to have any sort of routine. Some days I am in for 10AM, some days not until 12 or 1 o'clock. I have given up on any sense of real "normalcy" or routine as I have been progressively getting more and more tired as the days go by. I am drained of any sort of energy by 6PM most days and need my afternoon naps.

The burns are nasty. No other way to put it. It is not like your typical sunburn. I started peeling and then the fresh skin underneath got burnt as well and it is now peeling too. My skin has changed from being brown and tanned to black. The worst areas are definitely my collarbone and under the breast. Now, it isn't unbearable (yet). They prescribe creams for itching and healing and I've been instructed not to put anything else on the wounds. I originally panicked when I read that I wasn't allowed to shave under my arm during treatment, but slowly realized that I needn't worry: I am so burnt that no hair is growing anyways. My last treatment is Tuesday (!!!!!) and about 14 days after my last treatment they said to expect the skin to fully peel off and then I can start getting back on track.

They say it's supposed to get worse... how in the heck is it supposed to get worse then this...

I also had my second round of Herceptin, and I am sooo happy to say I survived this one with minimal side effects. The stomach pain and headaches have (almost) completely disappeared.

I went to go for a follow up MRI a few weeks ago because my headaches were so bad. They wanted to do a scan of my brain to make sure all was OK up there. Anyways, as most of you know, MRI's are not very pleasant. I had my IV put in, changed into my blue hospital gown (I seriously think I should just own my own set at this point), and went to go in the machine. My specialist ran over to me before I started and said 'Wait! You have an expander in your chest, don't you? What make is it? Some expanders have metal in them...'. Surely enough, mine is one that is made with metal. This means I am not able to go for an MRI while I have it in. I am very annoyed at this.

An MRI is the most accurate way to see what is going on inside the body, and it does so without using any radiation (cat scans, x-rays etc. use radiation, which can possibly cause a second cancer later on in life which I would obviously like to avoid).

Fifteen dollars in parking, an unnecessary IV and 3 hours at the hospital later they sent me packing and said there was nothing left they could do. Although I haven't voiced it, the cancerous lymphnode in my chest has been a major cause of stress for me. I realized then that I wouldn't be able to get a read on how it is progressing until this dumb, rock hard expander was taken out of my chest. I had anger towards my plastic surgeon for possibly inserting something into my body for purely cosmetic reasons that was preventing me from looking after my health. The whole idea here is to make sure I come out cancer-free... right? Additionally, I can't even have it removed because you are not supposed to touch skin that has been radiated for 6-8 months after treatments.

So here I am, having a panic at the hospital, thinking my cancer has spread to all of my limbs and that I will have to go through a lifetime of chemotherapy and never see hair on my body ever again. My radiation oncologist did tell me the cancer was tiny (less then 1mm), and that I shouldn't be worried at all. However, this is interfering with my "I am cancer-free" thing so of course I was worried.

Last Friday I go in and tell her my concerns. I don't want to return to real life worrying that I may have cancer and have to go through this all again. I don't want to start developing a routine and have to hear "You have cancer" again. I can't do it.

She told me to hold on and grabbed my "file" (more like a novel, it holds detailed write ups of every single test and appointment I have had since this started). She is flipping around and falls on my last scheduled MRI which I had before my surgery. In tiny, small print at the bottom of the page it says:

"Suspicious activity in the lymph nodes appears to have been cleared up".

"Suspicious activity in the lymph nodes appears to have been cleared up".

"Suspicious activity in the lymph nodes appears to have been cleared up".

"Suspicious activity in the lymph nodes appears to have been cleared up".

Cancer. Free.

I guess I can't expect the oncologists to read every last little detail... but there it was all along, written in my file. I have been cancer free this whole time.

Cue some happy tears and hugs with my mom later and all of a sudden radiation didn't seem so bad anymore. I don't need it to clear up any present cancer, so it's merely a preventative to sterilize my skin and affected area.

With only two sessions left, I'm not sure what I'll do with all of this newfound time I'm going to have. I have Herceptin every 21 days and some follow up appointments but my active cancer treatments will be over. 

(Since writing this post, I finished my treatments! And a throwback celebration picture, as my mom finished about 2 weeks ago. Went for a celebratory lunch with my family. As fate would have it, I finished my radiation on my mom's birthday.. double celebration!) 

One of my insta-friends whom is currently going through chemo wrote under my picture "That must feel amazing - I can't wait to get there too. Live and laugh my friend". Honestly, I can remember being 3/6 chemo sessions in and feeling like this day would never come. I had no idea what was going to happen to me back then, but here I am: poisoned, chopped up and burnt but very much alive and kickin'.

Duh. Starting with a selfie and ending with a selfie.

I had a very big internal struggle this last month with my appearance. I guess it is only natural: my hair is starting to grow back, my eyebrows are making my face look more "me" and all of a sudden I cared about how I looked again. During chemo, I was too sick to care. But, 30 pounds later and very strange, awkward hair that likes to flip up in every direction and I just started to feel... unpretty. I wanted my body back, my hair back, my wardrobe back.

Many people said to me, well aren't you supposed to lose weight during chemo? Truth is, not anymore. In fact, they encourage you to gain weight. Eat when you're hungry, which if you'll remember this hilarious post, the steroids made me very, very hungry. Paired with months of bed-dwelling and my body is very different then what I was used to.

When I worked for the salon my end goal was to look like Barbie. I'm not even kidding you. I loved my bleached blonde hair and pink dresses, I wore heels every single day and I wore a size small. My nails were always perfect and I mastered fake lashes. In reality, This was only last January (2014)! When you live like that for 3 years of your life, working in an industry that is obsessed with image, you can't help but get sucked in to trying to always look "perfect" and it is very difficult to change your mind frame. So, about a month ago I started being hard on myself about getting back into a routine and looking up gym memberships.

As radiation progressed though, I couldn't fathom the idea of exercising. I have been so tired. In the last month, I have had my first few big "outings" since I have been feeling better: Kris's bridal shower, Westfest, Canada Day, the bachelorette. Most were heavily photographed and I remember dreading taking any pictures of myself. I didn't want to see what I looked like.

 

Some bachelorette and bridal shower spam! Other then radiation, planning these two are what took up most of my time (and we had an absolute blast at both!). :) 

Turns out, I must have learned a thing or two along this journey. I look at pictures and I pleasantly surprise myself. Instead of being harsh and judgmental, I am so happy. Does that sound cheesy and self centered? I look like me. I look happy. I am enjoying my life. I am able to celebrate. I am able to go out and do things again. A long 8 months later and I feel like me, finally. I love my body, I'm proud of it. Poisoned, chopped up and burnt... my body saved my life. Every single doctor I have had has told me how great I am at "healing". I bounce back quickly.

It took me a long time to write this post, because I wanted to be sure I was being true with myself. Body issue and image struggles are a very real reality after cancer - Nalie, Krysta and others have all openly struggled the same way I did. You don't look or feel the same anymore. You keep getting waves of "Woah. Did that really just happen to me?". Your body is scarred and changed and you need to deal with all of that. I'm sure it will be a battle I fight over again, but for now...

I am constantly wowed at how our bodies look after us and fight for us.

I just want to hug my body and tell it what a good job it has done and how proud I am of it.

I have likely put my body through more then it will ever again go through in it's life, and I am soo proud of it.

I am so grateful for this lesson, and to be learning it at a young age. For this revelation, for this new found kindness to my extra curves and dimples and yes even some stretchmarks (which I have taken to fondly calling my stretchies).  I am grateful that cancer has made my mind strong and deeply engrained the lesson that I am more then my weight, appearance and hair.

I am happy that cancer has allowed me to look at a picture and instead of pick out flaws, see how happy I am to be with friends and family, or how much fun I am having. To understand how hard it was to get to the point where I am able to celebrate life again.

In the words of one of my favorite ladies (J.K. Rowling)...

"Is fat really the worst thing a human can be? If fat worse then vindictive, jealous, shallow, vain, boring or cruel? Not to me." 

Now the struggle becomes real... what to write about now? Life after cancer... stay tuned.

xx

Sam