5 Ways Having Cancer Is Like an Episode of the Walking Dead

I started watching The Walking Dead back in November when I was deciding which shows were going to get me through the long winter ahead. I declared nothing could beat Breaking Bad, but I'd heard pretty good things about The Walking Dead and I needed a show I could admit to people I was actually watching (The Carrie Diaries doesn't go over well and I just can't bring myself to re-watch all ten seasons of Friends yet).

Don't watch the show? Well, let me give you some back story. The world is essentially taken over by... the walking dead. A dude (Rick) awakens from a coma to find an apocalyptic world that is dominated by zombies (nicknamed "Walkers") that eat human flesh and blood. He sets out to find his wife and son and let's just say trouble ensues along the way.

There's a whole slew of characters that I love more then I loved the cast of LOST (and I really loved Hurley in LOST...). I just finished Season 4: Episode 12 (every episode is feeling like it should be the finale and I am on edge here, people. I can't believe I am writing this post instead of finishing it off!)

When I first heard about Walking Dead, I wrote it off as gory and disgusting. I didn't see the context. I saw a whole lot of gruesome zombie stabbing. That's not something that's normally up my alley. Then, one day, I was talking to my boss and he said "It isn't about gore and killing! It's about humanity, and how we come together when everything goes wrong!".

Don't get me wrong though. There is still some gore.

So I'm watching a show where a (really hot) guy literally runs around with a crossbow and annihilates zombies, and I find myself tearing up and thinking "The Walking Dead is like having cancer. This is like my life!".


I can't use a sword like Michonne and I definitely don't have the stamina right now to endure long battles and supply runs but let me explain...

Daryl used to be a real hick in his past life. He used to get up to no good, and he wasn't going anywhere. Beth is a daughter of a devout Christian and has maintained fairly innocent throughout the show. In the episode I watched last night, the pair is sitting around the fire, separated from their friends, neither saying much. Beth suddenly exclaims "I NEED A DRINK. A real drink! I've never had one before. Let's go and find something!". Off they go, in search of an abandoned bar. (winning quote of the episode: "if you're going to drink for the first time it's damn well not going to be Peach Schnapps").

Daryl has grown a lot since the apocalypse, but when he sees an old trailer - reminiscent of his childhood home - he's reminded of what he used to be. Beth and Daryl spend the evening drinking moonshine on the porch of the trailer, where Beth gets that cute look on her face and suggests they burn it down. They joyfully cover the home with booze and light a match as they stand back and give the middle finger to his childhood, getting closure from his past life.

 

They could have stayed in the forest eating snakes around a fire. It would have been the safe option.  But it's our human instinct to want to do more then what's safe.

In our lives, we do what Daryl and Beth did all the time. We could have a home with a simple bed and a toilet but instead we decorate our spaces. We read, travel, blog. We jump out of airplanes and tightrope between buildings! We don't need to do any of those things to merely survive: we do them because we long for something more then basic survival. Like burning down a house to give yourself closure or making it a mission to find your first drink. Not necessary for survival, but necessary in giving your life meaning. It was at that point I decided my life was a lot like this show.

Sometimes I find myself feeling that sometimes it would be easier to just stay in bed. I'm too sore to go out. I'm too tired to walk. I'm too exhausted to read. It would be safer, easier for me to stay in tonight. I just got chemo on Tuesday. But there is a sens/leafs game tonight where all of my friends will be and I don't know if I'll survive it but that sounds like it could be pretty fun (Happy Birthday Chandy).

So instead you get up and go out. You force yourself to talk about what's going on and you write a blog to connect with other people who have the same experiences as you do. You could close your eyes and wake up in November, when this is all over but you don't. You keep on keeping on and you make the best of the year ahead.

Five (more) Reasons Having Cancer Is Like An Episode of The Walking Dead

1) It is now considered "normal" to see a Walker (dead zombie), and how casually even the youngest child will now kill them, four seasons in. We survive, we adapt.

Cancer becomes your new normal. It's shocking at first, yes. You aren't sure how to interpret the information you've been given. You're in shock, you're overwhelmed, you think you're going to die.

I assume you would feel the same if there was a zombie apocalypse on earth, too....

2) Slowly, as time passes, you start to realize you aren't dead yet (from cancer... or from a zombie) and you better start fighting for your life.

What was once so shocking (cancer diagnosis vs. zombie apocalypse), starts to feel considerably normal.

You start to just live with cancer/zombies and acknowledge the fact that it's there and you may as well just deal with it. It hasn't killed you yet, so you start to devise ways to distract yourself from it.

You learn all of the specific ways in which you can fight off the cancer side effects/fight off the zombies and while it definitely helps (like putting up the stakes outside the prison guard walls vs. doing chemo) ... underneath, the cancer (walkers) are still there.

3) It feels like the next 8 months are a lifetime. You can't imagine a life after cancer (after zombie apocalypse).

You start to build a new life around the cancer. It doesn't look like what you'd imagined or hoped for yourself, but it's still your life and you realize it's still worth living. 

Same as in The Walking Dead. In reality, they could stay in one place, never making a "new" life for themselves in this new world of theirs. They could hole up and become reclusive, wallowing at the end of the world. That would be one boring show though...(and one boring life).

4) You could worry constantly about the cancer coming back (or, never settling down again because well.. it's a zombie apocolypse so how can we ever feel safe?).

 You could let the fear paralyze you from having children and raising them in a world that may involve cancer. You could avoid attachment and marriage to prevent the pain of losing someone you love to the illness. My fave couple on the show, Maggie & Glenn, also battle with these types of questions.

5) At one point, residential bad guy "The Governor" looks at his lover when she asks "What kind of life will my daughter be living if we go ahead and kill all of those people in the prison? What will she be in this life?"

And he respond "Alive. She will be alive".

While this is true, you can tell she isn't happy with the answer. Being alive isn't enough. If you abandon your morals in a time of struggle, you won't be happy to be alive. It's what keeps us who we are in times of trial.

---

The group of survivors on the show band together. It doesn't matter where they're living: whether it be a farm, a prison, or an abandoned home. They fight for their safety and they will do anything to stay "alive". Multiple times on the show, they ask themselves (and each other): why are we doing this? What do we have left to live for? We are inevitably, sooner or later, going to die. Our situation is dire. Our loved ones are gone. We have no home, no food, no stability. Why are we fighting, with everything we have, to keep moving forward?

Because you just do. Because it's in our nature. Because life isn't always a graph with a straight line going up. Because there is more to life then just surviving. Despite the impending end of the world, there is still love to be found (Maggie & Glen), babies to teach right from wrong (Judith), friendships with that unbreakable bond (Daryl & Carol), and our basic human instinct: to make the right choices. To choose living, always. To choose morals, and to not abandon them when things get tough (Rick & Herschel).

Walking Dead isn't a show about zombies. It has little to do with zombies, actually. It's really about the characters. It's about human instinct. It asks the tough questions. It's about choices; love, loyalty, loss, morality, survival, trust. It's about hope against all odds.

Kind of like living with cancer. Except I don't get to be saved by Norman Reedus... and that just isn't fair.

The Beginning Of the End!

1-2-3: Support in ways of Kleenex and Flowers... :) 4: Took myself out on a Starbucks date at 9:30PM on Friday. Jeff was closing and I could only think about how much time I'll be spending in my bed next week so I figured...why not. When she asked me if I wanted whip, this time I said HELL yes (not actually though).

This week I had my last Lupron shot. This was the first time I was able to do something for the last time!

Do you know what that means?

IN ONE MONTH THE HOT FLASHES WILL BE GONE.

Next thing I know, it will be Tuesday: MY LAST TREATMENT. For real though...this is not a drill!!

TUESDAY I WILL HAVE MY LAST CHEMO TREATMENT.

MY LAST DAY OF CHEMO WILL BE TUESDAY.

I HATE SAYING THE WORD CHEMO AND I'M SO HAPPY THIS WILL BE THE LAST TIME I HAVE TO SAY I AM DOING IT. 

GAH.

Okay, I'm done. That's how I feel about it though. 5 rounds done, 1 to go. This time, I don't even care. Throw whatever side effects you want at me. I can handle anything at this point.

I met with my oncologist today. For the first time, I was by myself. I felt brave. I always go into my appointments with Jeff and my mom. This is pretty helpful because sometimes the information they give you can be overwhelming. I need my note-takers. Jeff is the analytical one, if you can't tell. I'm a bit more artsy-fartsy and sometimes.... un-organized.

Today I had Crystal and Payton (Jeff's sister and niece... my hospital buddies!) to accompany me in the waiting room. Payton impressed me and kept me entertained with her best rendition of "Sugar" by Maroon5 (she is 2). She more then impressed my fellow cancer patients as she played on an app that turns your voice into a high pitched mouse sound. She had her baby headphones on and did that hilarious thing where you yell so loud because you can't gauge how loud the music in your ears is. She was bringing such joy and laughter to everyone sitting and waiting (probably anxiously) to hear how they are bearing their treatments. You could see how happy she made them and it was such a light in what can sometimes be a very dark place. Those hallways have seen too many of my tears! Crystal made me laugh by telling me Payton has named one of her boy dolls "Don". We wonder where she even learned the name "Don", much less decided to call one of her dolls by the name. I laughed so hard. I looked forward to getting a Timmies and sitting and chatting with Crystal before I went for my appointment all day yesterday. I love when we go to appointments together.

So, I go in to meet my oncologist and we get right down to business. He asks me how I fared with my last treatment, I say A-OK. Not nearly as much stomach pain, tons of sleeping, sore body (surprisingly they don't take "I feel like I got in a car accident" as an acceptable way to explain how much pain I was in. They prefer the 1-10 scale instead). I showed him my nails (which are pretty cool despite how they are peeling and slowly deteriorating...they have little white lines etched into them, one for each of my chemo treatments. You can literally see where they stopped and started growing again after each one). I asked him about the bloating and the weight gain and the sore neck that doesn't seem to want to go away. I asked him about my sparse eyelashes and eyebrows. I wanted him to give me a drug, vitamin or ingredient to help make them grow stronger and longer. I wanted him to perform magic and pull a bunny out of a hat and make it all disappear. He did tell me what it was going to take to make all of my above symptoms go away: patience and time.

It takes one month for the chemo to leave your system. This means on April 17th 2015 I will be eating a smoked salmon bagel and drinking an extra spicy caesar for breakfast. It takes about two months to feel "normal" again (in most cases). In two months you can expect to see hair growth, fatigue lifting, and your body slowly fighting to go back to normal. By May 17th 2015, I should be sporting a super cute crew cut.

Appetizing chemo diet....

Just kidding. In between my treatments I've actually been having some delicious food! ;)

Somewhere in between there I will be going for my surgery. I received a call today from my surgeon to schedule an appointment to see her. I will have way more details on when/what that will entail after this appointment, so until then... I'm not going to say much. I'm not certain what she's going to recommend. Ultimately, it will be my choice but her influence will play heavily into my decision. I DO know, from meeting with my oncologist today, that I should be going in for surgery mid-April. I thought it would be nearing the end of April, so I officially only have one more month before I mourn the loss of a body part. It feels a bit strange.

He measured my tumor at about 5cm. This is okay! Although it measured about 5cm across, we both agreed it felt different. It is taking up less space. The depth has likely shrunk... this is something we won't be able to measure until I go for surgery, but it is a good thing. The more the cancer shrinks, the less chance they leave anything behind after the surgery, the less chance of relapsing.

I don't feel anxious anymore. I'm feeling stoked. I'm feeling like I can see the light here. I listen to my body and have applied less pressure on myself to be so active. A few days this week I slept in until 2PM. I haven't done this since I was in high school. But... I am just so tired. So, I let myself sleep in. It felt so good.

I have two feel good stories to accompany my post today!

1) My beautiful, amazing sister has hair that grows like a weed (why did this skip my genes?). This week we went for lunch together and this is how our conversation went:

Me: LIANNE... NEVER CUT YOUR HAIR! It is sooo beautiful. You should grow it down to your bum. Never cut it. 

Lianne: I don't know. Maybe you're right. I'll just trim off the split ends or something.

8 hours later:

What a schemer.

She's going to be participating in Hair Donation Ottawa's 5th Annual Fundraising Event. Her hair will be made into a wig for a company called 360-Hair; they make free wigs for young adults with cancer. All proceeds will go towards research specifically geared towards cancer found in young adults! You can donate to Lianne here.

 2) I put some money down to get a second wig last week. I have been humming and hah-ing over this for quite some time. I wanted to play around with something a little bit longer. I wanted to be able to switch up my appearance. I was getting bored with the same look every day (the original wig I got was synthetic, if you remember! It means it can't be styled). I was having such a hard time justifying the money. So, when my mom sent me a message saying one of her friends had reached out to her and said she had "wigs" (with a plural!! That meant more then one!) that were blonde and she wanted me to have, I was so ecstatic! I just picked them up the other day. They are absolutely beautiful, well cared for, and so my style. I couldn't even wait to get home. I whipped off my hat and put one on right away. I also took a selfie. I was pretty excited...

I am now the owner of three new wigs: a short blonde bob, a longer wig with bangs (flashback to 6 years ago!!), and a beautiful and natural looking human hair wig. It was better then getting a new purse or a new dog*. I'm being serious though, it was such a kind and genuine gesture and something I won't be able to say enough "thank you's" for. It really made me feel more "myself" at a time when I couldn't look or feel less like myself.

* Which is a whole other story. I almost conned Jeff into letting me get a dog last month. It was my dream puppy: a little Yorkie. The day I was diagnosed, while I was crying, I looked up at Jeff with big sad eyes and said..."So...does this mean I can finally get a dog? To keep me company while I'm home... all alone?". He said YES that day and I will not let him forget it! Side note: our apartment won't even allow us to have a dog...

 

It's okay though because how cute are these faces. We were enjoying the Spring weather we were having for all of one day this week. Then it started to hail and freezing rain... remember I said in my last post... this ALWAYS HAPPENS. 

Okay... now for the serious bit of the post that you may have assumed was coming (are my blog posts becoming predictable now or what?)

I spent my evening tonight reading breast cancer blogs (my new favorite past-time, apparently). On March 6th, a woman named Lisa Adams passed away after 9 years of battling breast cancer (on and off). In 2012, she learned it had metastasized to her bones, followed by her liver and lymphnodes. She wrote a wonderful blog. She did not spare us any details. You will cry at her poems and her honesty. She had about 4000 people subscribed to her Facebook, which she updated frequently, and 15 000 followers on twitter. Every single morning she tweeted the same thing.

She wrote her last blog post on March 1st, only five days before she passed. On March 5th, she updated her Facebook status to say:

Things are quite quite serious. Please do not text or email daily. I can't answer.

 Doesn't that make your stomach drop?

You see the progression in her posts. Slowly, it becomes less about being a warrior and fighting for another day and more about managing her pain. There have been multiple articles written about Lisa since she lost her battle to cancer. It's brought up the topic: is blogging and tweeting about cancer a good idea?

Lisa had lots of criticism for posting so openly and freely about her diagnosis. Some feel like she should have spent that time living her life, spending time with her kids. Some feel like it opens you up to criticism... as in, you're asking for it by posting on the internet. The internet isn't like a support group, there is no facilitator to make sure things don't get ugly.

Sometimes Lisa would tweet upwards of 100 times per day. She admitted it made her feel less alone. She felt as if she was showing us what living with metastatic breast cancer was truly like. There have been articles about whether or not this is TMI. People are freely admitting it was like watching a TLC TV show unfold. They became addicted to following Lisa. Only... this is someone's real life. This isn't scripted. One day she was tweeting and the next... she was gone.

I'm a big reader. I have read lots of books by authors whom have passed away. Yet... reading Lisa felt so raw and real. I was reading words that were published only weeks (days!) ago, by a woman that was very much alive. How can she be gone? She was just able to post to her blog! I felt cheated, and then I felt sad, and then I felt dread. It can happen just like that. 

There was an article published in the NY Times stating that Lisa was given too much hope. That the hospitals should not be giving someone with her prognosis that kind of hope, how we aren't allowing people to die peacefully. Most of our healthcare spending happens in the last 6 months of a person's life. She was fighting a fight she couldn't have won, despite the treatments she was enduring. She ended her last days in pain.

I think Lisa accomplished what she set out to do. She garnered the attention of high profile media, she made her point clear and she raised over $175, 000 for her hospital. She raised important issues, and asked important questions (such as, why does Run For the Cure not feature or support women with stage IV metastatic breast cancer?).

A journalist named Xeni Jardin decided to go for a mammogram when she found out two of her friends had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She figured she would make use of her twitter following and use the hashtag #myfirstmammo to remind her followers how important it was to get checked. She live tweeted her experience (which started out quite hilariously):

Making jokes helped her get through what was a nervewracking first experience (as I imagine it can be for most women). What she didn't imagine she'd have to live-tweet out to her followers were the shocking results of her mammogram:

 How we are able to follow along with others in real time: learning their prognosis the moment they receive it and in Lisa's case, reading her final words just hours before she passes. I'm still not sure if I feel like I've invaded their privacy or if I feel lucky enough to be able to have been that close to someone I've never even met.

Surprisingly, I have received some questionable e-mails and comments due to things I have posted on my blog. I guess it's why this particular topic interested me so much. In reality, everyone has an opinion and not everyone is going to agree on your personal decisions. But that's the thing: it's our bodies. It's my blog. Lisa (and I, and any of you) can write and express what you want to. In the end, what you read is really your choice.

I remember once I said I wasn't going to write a cancer blog. How that was so not me. Somehow having cancer has given me a sense of purpose, though. Talking through it has made this process much easier. I understand Lisa's need to post her updates. It makes it public and makes it seem real. It helps you work out how you truly feel. I'm not sure how it will all add up, but it feels like every day things become a little more clear to me. The more cancer takes from me.. my eyebrows, my nails, my body, my hair... the less I look like myself, the more I feel like I'm learning who I really am (so cheeeeesy). When you don't have all of that to hide behind, you feel naked and stripped down. All that's left is you and your brain and your thoughts and your hobbies and your passions. All of the fluffy vain stuff can't matter to you: it can't define you anymore. And if you let it, you're destined to be miserable because trust me... this bloated, pale cancer body is no longer our standard of "beauty". I think that was important for me to realize, because I placed high standards on myself at one point in my life. Look a certain way, maintain a certain weight, touch up your roots, buy a new outfit every time you go out. In retrospect, it seems silly. When you get blindsided with something like cancer, it makes you wonder how you ever cared about those little things at all...

(Chipped nail polish still bothers me though).

xx

Sam


Find a bit of beauty in the world today. Share it. If you can't find it, create it. Some days this may be hard to do. Persevere. 

RIP Lisa.

(let's talk): "I Would Rather Have Cancer"

1 - If I was reincarnated as a shoe, it would be this Kate Spade sparkly pink heel. 2 - Me & my sister at the Nordstrom opening gala 3 & 4 - Opening of Pure Kitchen here in Westboro - amazing! I had the Grateful bowl - mushroom miso with shiitake tofu dumplings. Check it out. 5 - Eyelash update. Sorry to scare you.
Today was like Christmas at my house! (I missed out on having a normal Christmas this year so I reserve the right to celebrate as many Christmas-like mornings as I want until next December hits). I ripped down to my mailbox and anxiously rode up all 4 floors to rip into the new books that have been on my wish list (...not before I snapped a picture though). 

I get so giddy when I get good old fashioned snail mail. For my birthday, Jeff got me a stationary type subscription called Happy Mail which delivers a dose of colourful paper products to my door each month (he is the best gift-giver!). I may be the only one, but when I was younger I used to love to buy those "surprise" bags at Ardene - full of their old and expired products, I now know - I just loved the element of surprise. So when a friend said she'd been looking at my wish list and sent a package my way to keep me company I was delighted. 

I just started We Should All Be Feminists and I'm really excited to get into it (not to mention I think it has a cover that just begs to be instagrammed and blogged). 

I feel much better. I have been enjoying music again (for awhile I went podcast crazy! Still love 'em, but I missed my music time), reading lots, binge watching TV lots, and hibernating for that last little stretch of winter.

I actually just finished reading Still Alice by Lisa Genova last night. There's been some buzz around it recently: the movie is coming out and Julianne Moore is starring in it. I wanted to read it before the movie (I am one of those) and also I don't particularly like Julianne Moore and I wanted to develop Alice as a character for myself! I spent the afternoon telling one of my girlfriends how much I loved it. It hit so close to home for me. I bet you're asking - how? Isn't this book about Alzheimer's?

I didn't particularly think the book was well written. I found it was edited poorly and all characters but Alice were one dimensional. But, I give Still Alice 5 stars. I normally wouldn't turn to my blog for a book review but this book had so many subjects that are so relevant to me right now and create conversation I believe is so important.

Alice Howland is a Harvard professor. One day she is speaking at a lecture, one she has given multiple times, and can't quite remember the word she uses to describe her slide (it was Lexicon, by the way). She doesn't think much of it, until she is walking home from her office (which she has done hundreds of times) and gets lost. She has no idea where "home" is. This is when she starts to worry. 

She looks up her symptoms and sees memory loss can be associated with menopause. That must be it, she thinks. She goes to her doctor, who advises her that she shouldn't worry - take 6 months and come back and see me if things get worse (what is WITH doctor's and deciding to wait and see if things 'get worse'?) Alice is worried and demands to see a neurologist. 

Her neurologist tells her she has early-onset Alzheimer's. 

Her life as she knows it slowly starts to deteriorate. She must leave her job, she can't go out alone. She must give up running, reading, even watching movies - she can't follow the plot. Her husband distances himself from her. Alice struggles with the notion of having a life with Alzheimers - is there such a thing? 

Still Alice is fiction, but reads like a memoir. I did some research before I go running my mouth here, and it seems as if all the facts regarding Alzheimer's check out. At one point in the book, Alice talks about her diagnosis. You'll see immediately why we connected:

"She wished she had cancer instead. She'd trade Alzheimer's for cancer in a heartbeat. She felt ashamed for wishing this and it was certainly a pointless bargaining, but she permitted the fantasy anyway. With cancer, she'd have something that she could fight. There was surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. There was the chance that she could win. Her family and the community at Harvard would rally behind her battle and consider it noble. And even if defeated in the end, she'd be able to look them knowingly in the eye and say good-bye before she left.

Alzheimer's disease was an entirely different kind of beast. There were no weapons that could slay it. Taking Aricept and Namenda felt like aiming a couple of leaky squirt guns in to the face of a blazing fire. Right now, everyone with Alzheimer's faced the same outcome, whether they were eighty-two or fifty, resident of the Mount Auburn Manor or a full professor of psychology at Harvard University. The blazing fire consumed all. No one got out alive.

And while a bald head and a looped ribbon were seen as badges of courage and hope, her reluctant vocabulary and vanishing memories advertised mental instability and impending insanity. Those with cancer could expect to be supported by their community. Alice expected to be outcast. Even the well-intentioned and educated tended to keep a fearful distance from the mentally ill. She didn't want to become someone people avoided and feared."

When I read "I wished I had cancer instead", I was offended. Who would write that? Who would WISH that? But I kept reading. I thought long and hard about the above quote.

The stigma behind mental illness is a topic that's talked about a lot recently in the media. I think I limited "mental illness" to what we see in the media: depression, mood disorders, etc. I did not think of diseases and disorders such as Dementia and Alzheimer's. I couldn't help but think: if I had been diagnosed with a serious mental illness versus a serious physical illness, would the support I received be the same? Would I still be seen as strong for battling an equally devastating illness? Would I be as confident openly talking about my diagnosis? I really don't think so. That made me so sad. 

Alice's husband refuses to take his sabbatical to spend the year with Alice as her mind slowly depreciates and she starts to lose her surroundings. He can't comprehend that his smart and beautiful wife is sick - her MRI and catscans are fine. He yells at her, tells her to just remember what he is telling her. He is embarrassed of her illness. Why do we find it so hard to be compassionate towards mental illness and find it so easy to support those with physical symptoms? Yet: I didn't hate his character. I sympathized for him. His frustration was believable and I am beginning to realize that sometimes your support system needs support, too. If we aren't as open to talking about mental illness, how can it's patients get support the support they deserve? If we can't even support those directly suffering, how are we supposed to help and support their loved ones?

Alice's children are tested for early onset Alzheimers. One of her daughters doesn't want to have her DNA tested. She would rather not live knowing if she carries the gene. The constant worry of questioning if the Alzheimers has set in every time you can't find your keys. One daughter tests positive and explores new fertility options: we are actually able to test our eggs before IVF and see which ones will carry that specific gene, and we can decide not to use the ones affected. Does this all sound familiar? I could see myself having this exact conversation with my fertility specialist two months ago. 

Her daughter has twins, and Alice is at the hospital and does not recognize her family. She is holding her granddaughter, when suddenly she clues in. 

"'Anna, you had your babies." said Alice. 
"Yes, Mom, you're holding your granddaughter." said Anna.
"She's perfect. I love her."
"And they won't get Alzheimer's like I did?" Asked alice.
"No, they won't."
Alice inhaled deeply, breathing in the scrumptious smell of her beautiful granddaughter, filling herself with a sense of relief and peace she hadn't known in a long time.

I cried my eyes out when I read this part last night at 2:30AM. Maybe it's because I had a drink at the Nordstrom gala (which is beautiful, by the way), but it's likely because I remember the pure relief I felt when I was told I didn't carry the BRCA1 and BRCA2 gene. 

In such a beautiful moment, Alice immediately worries and thinks about her illness. It is all consuming. It touches every part of your life. You can't help but worry about such a small, innocent life having to endure such a hardship. You want pure, simple things for the ones you love.

Mental illness and disorder scares us. It scares me. I read Still Alice and agreed with her at some points: I would rather have cancer. But... it doesn't have to be so scary. We could talk about it like we talk about cancer. 1800 people went to the Nordstrom gala last night where 100% of ticket sales went to support the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation. We talk about cancer, we treat cancer, we are comfortable with cancer. It is because of the physical symptoms, the visible ones, that it so easily touches our lives. We see our loved ones suffer through cancer: it's side effects are obvious. Yet, equally as many of us suffer from mental illness, and because it isn't on the surface - there is no bald head or gaping scar - it is harder to talk about. We feel inclined not to. I felt sad, thinking about anyone suffering alone, suffering behind closed doors. Our treatment for an illness should not be different whether it is physical or mental. I related to Alice. While our diagnosis was different, our side effects very different, our thoughts and feelings about being "sick" and how it affects us are the same. One of us doesn't deserve to be alienated while the other one is considered a warrior. 

The real moral of the book is to live in the moment. Mental illness, cancer... it may be curable, or it may not be. I think it's all about taking the good with the bad, trying not to dwell, work your hardest, do your best. It's all we have. As Alice says, "Living in the moment is all I can do".  

xx

Sam

The One & Only Essential to Surviving a Canadian Winter (+ a list of what I'm grateful for)

New pajamas!

I have a story for you. 

Last year, I was taking the bus home in the perilous depths of winter. I had a particularly nasty cold. I was jamming out with my headphones on when a woman rapidly starting tapping on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my seat. She was handing - no, shoving - Kleenex into my hands. Looking super annoyed, she told me "Please use these. You are sniffing like crazy. It is grossing me out". Mortified, I hadn't even realized that I had been the annoying girl that was sniffling like crazy on an otherwise very quiet bus. I made a vow that day to never listen to music that was so loud that I couldn't hear myself breathe (or hear others talk), and always kept tissue in my purse for emergency situations like these ones. I thought that would be the beginning and end of all embarassing snot stories I would have to tell in my lifetime.

I was so wrong.

I noticed last week that my nose was leaking like a faucet. I am extremely cautious of any "new" side effects that my body is presenting me: I take my temperature like a crazy person just in case there is anything abnormal going on and I have to rush to the hospital (if I faint randomly in public, I have a nifty "fever card" on me at all times so people know that I am NOT WELL and to rush me to the hospital ASAP). Anyways, I always associated a runny nose with a really bad cold. Turns out all that mucus is always there, cold or not. You just never notice it because most of us have those handy dandy nose hairs that stop it from pouring out of your nose and running dangerously close to dripping into your mouth. Cue all the barf.

If you are going to be grateful for one thing this winter, I urge you to be grateful for your nose hair. You may be laughing right now, but I am being dead serious. Your nose hair is the essential roadblock between you and all the angry older women in the world who will try and shove tissues on you and embarrass you on public transportation. You only realize how much you appreciate your nose hair when you no longer have any. You definitely appreciate it when you no longer have control over your sniffling. I am speaking from experience here.

I was trying on dresses for the Nordstrom gala I'm going to this Wednesday night, and I noticed I was sniffing like crazy. I actually couldn't stop. The sales associate knocked on my changeroom door and asked me if I needed a tissue. She probably thought I was wiping my nose on all their expensive dresses. Mortified, yet again. I've started hoarding paper napkins at the beginning of meals at restaurants: before Jeff sits down I steal his and make him ask for another one. I try to keep Kleenex in my purse but I'm going through it too quickly. If you are looking for a gift for me, I would love purse sized tissues in any pattern, please (I do love Hello Kitty though and she has lots of Kleenex patterns, FYI).

So there's the latest new and nasty side effect. Who would have ever thought how essential nose hair is to getting through a Canadian winter? Not me.

I woke up this morning so sure I would be feeling better after my last treatment. When I was arguably feeling worse then I did yesterday, I started feeling a bit grumpy. This started to get me making a mental list of things I am grateful for, which I thought I would share here:

- Shonda Rhimes & How to Get Away With Murder (watched the first season in two days! Great show)
- Two adorable kitties who keep loving me despite when my last shower was
- Oreo ice cream sandwiches (birthday cake flavour)
- An e-mail telling me to expect an extra large box in the mail with tons of new advance readers to review
- Norman Reedus/Daryl Dixon (blowing through season 4 of Walking Dead)
- Project Free TV
- Consignment shops and $8 heels
- Floor to ceiling windows in my bedroom that make me feel like I am outside when in reality I have not been able to get out of bed before 4PM in 3 days
- My industrial-like fan that manages my hot flashes
- Uptown Funk/Bruno Mars
- When Jeff leaves for work and puts a blanket over my head like a turban, and claims I look "cute" (lies)
- #Pritchellrevamp2015 (the name Jeff and I have given to our apartment de-clutter).
- -10  degree weather (feeling balmy out today, no?)
- Super soft kleenex
- One more round of chemo

Things I am not grateful for:

Ikea. (I picked up a new piece of furniture only to come home and realize that one of the pieces is the wrong size.).

Among other things that are too disgusting to type and share here for you to read (more disgusting then talking about nose hairs). My stomach has been acting up on me today. Sorry.

An ideal day off for me just a few months ago would be to make a campsite on my couch, eat all the snacks, watch all the Netflix, and not get out of my Pajamas all day. Turns out, once you have done this on and off for three months the novelty really starts to wear off. I don't think I can ever allow myself to retire. I think I'll always need to keep a part time job or side project to prevent myself from going stir crazy.

I have been extremely lethargic this time around. My side effects hit me late Thursday. Where as in the past I have had extreme lack of sleep, this time around I can't seem to sleep enough. It is a real chore for me to move from my bed to the couch. I can barely hold my iPad up to watch TV. I am still pretty sore. My stomach was doing OK, until I woke up this morning and the explosion feeling hit again. I'm giving it until tomorrow morning. That will officially be a week and that is long enough!

The end is near and I'm actively thinking about how I only have one treatment left. My last chemo is actually scheduled for St Patty's day. St Patty's day of the past:

Shamrock pancakes and drinks starting at 8AM. Safe to say that this year will be a little different! That's ok, though. I have 15 days to think of the best/most fun outfit to wear to my last treatment. I love holidays. If you received a Valentine from me this year, I am jealous of you (Downton Abbey and 90's boy stars). For any of you who plan on coming to see me ring the bell, I promise to have festive treats to nosh on! (I can't condone bringing in a keg though, so if you want to get your drink on, I suggest Bailey's in a coffee mug).

There are two cancer-related events going on in Ottawa this March/April that I thought I would share with you. Since I'm up the creek still, I'm going to rely on you to do your part in spreading my message!! Next year, you can bet I will be the annoying girl blowing up your Facebook with breast cancer related events, but until then, here's some things you can consider:

Have you thought about cutting your long, luxurious hair recently? Every celebrity has done it. The lob is in. It's super chic and cute, and people with cancer rely on your lovely locks. So if you are willing to donate 6+ inches of hair, shave your head, or sponsor someone who is, visit www.hairdonationottawa.com for more details. If you end up taking part, you should definitely let me know and take some pictures.

Get Pink'd! March 12th is National Wear Pink day. Colleagues, teammates and friends are encouraged to make a $5 donation, don your Get Pink'd pin and wear pink in support of breast cancer research. If you're interested, the CBCF will set you up with a starter pack. All the details here. Again, send me pictures!! I would love to see your workplace, sports team, or group of friends wearing my fave colour.

I've spent a lot of time researching cancer related foundations. I have a very strong opinion forming on what/when you should donate and to whom. Especially for breast cancer. There are so many "breast cancer" products (think of everything that turns pink in October). It's so important to do your research and know where your money is going. A lot of the time, only a few cents go towards research.  I think this is a whole other post in the future, but for now, the above events are definitely good causes!

 

Playing with wigs! I always say how lucky I am to not be freaked out by fake hair now that I need it after working at a salon for so long, having tons of previous knowledge with extensions etc. Playing with wigs is one of the few fun parts of the whole experience.

So... that's all I've got to say this time around! Nose hair has definitely been on my top of mind awareness lately, and I couldn't wait a second longer to tell you how lucky you are to have it.  

I'm looking out my window right now and it's so sunny. I hope you are all enjoying your time skating on the canal, going for a walk on your lunch break, or joining me in finally opening the blinds. The sun feels so good. 

Until next time!

xx

Sam