“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

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

 

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

(re)Assess: Good Things Come In 3's!

Today, browsing through home storage and organization books. I read an article called "10 things successful women do" (it was as cheesy as it sounds), but one of the tips were "Make your bed".  It didn't have as much to do with making your bed as much as it had to do with keeping your space clean. A clean space = a stress free mind.

The nice thing about keeping a blog is re-reading old posts and seeing how quickly your attitude, mind frame and opinion can change over such a short period of time. It's like when I look back on my high school journals and have a giggle at how melodramatic I was. I love that I have documented the details of how I've felt: how at times I've been naive, how curious, positive and hopeful I've been (and am). I have a resolution to go back and read my past journals on New Years Day, to remember everything that had happened over the last year and reflect on how I changed and grew from my experiences. It's a cool thing to review the words and thoughts of your past self. I feel like in 3 months I've learned so much. When I wrote my last post, I was still recovering from treatment #4: I hadn't slept in over a week, was suffering from abnormally crazy hot flashes and was definitely feeling down.

I'm at the very end of this treatment - day twenty - and I'm feeling so much better, mentally and physically. Re-reading my last post I felt so sad for myself (ha). It was definitely one of those low moments that everyone warned me about. When you're diagnosed, you generally go for a "Chemo Teach" class at the hospital: they make you sit through a particularly painful and scary slideshow of all of the side effects you may/may not experience, followed by a Q&A with a nurse that works on the chemo floor. They take you for a little tour around the cancer wing and the volunteers show you where you can find warm blankets, orange juice, and how to wheel yourself to the bathrooms. My volunteer pulled me aside while we were on our tour and told me she had gone through chemo herself and now that she's older has decided to volunteer. She she had two piece of advice for me:

1) Take advantage of the good days. There will be good days and there will be some very bad days. When you have a good day, take advantage of it and don't take it for granted. You don't know when your next good day will come again.

2) Go for walks. Get fresh air every day. Even if it's just around the block.

I think this is pretty good advice whether you're going through chemo or not! I was given a lot of advice when this all started, but for some reason, this is what stuck.

I'm getting increasingly tired as the time goes by: I find myself waking up in the morning and after breakfast I'm ready for a nap. Despite this, I do find it so important to get outside at least once a day, no matter how tired I am. It's a brutal cycle: I can't sleep at night, so I sleep during the day, then my nap is pushed later, and by the time night comes... I can't sleep again! I'm trying to break the cycle but for now, it's what works for me. But the walks help for light exercise and to tire me out a bit.

I'm prepping myself for this Tuesday (tomorrow) - treatment 5/6! At the beginning of this week I met with my oncologist, preparing for the worst. For some reason preparing for bad news helps me appreciate good news so much more. If you remember, I hadn't seen any change in my tumour at all the last 2 treatments. I think that contributed to my attitude after the last one: to have your life completely uprooted and to feel like it is for no reason is devastating.

But...guess what? I got some GREAT news this time around! It seems like for me, good things really DO come in 3's. After my first round, I had three pieces of good news. It's the same this time! Here goes:

1) My catscan I had 2 weeks ago on my lungs came back in: it was CLEAR. The cancer has not spread and the spots on my lungs they were concerned about back in November are nothing to worry about.

2) From this catscan, they saw that my lymphnodes are NO longer swollen at all and look like they've returned to normal! This doesn't necessarily mean the cancer is gone (and they will be removed regardless) but it definitely means that the chances of it spreading from there are now next to none.

3)  My tumour shrunk from 8cm to almost 6cm! Considering I started at 10cm...major win! Taxotere is my drug apparently (I told you guys!).

I can't describe how happy I am. Honestly, I'm most relieved about my lung scan coming back clear. It was the elephant in the room: had it spread? It would have changed my entire diagnosis and treatment plan (not to mention my life...). So, this was totally the push I needed to get to the finish line. When you know you're fighting and winning, the fight becomes so much easier.

                  

My eyebrows are holding on strong for now - although I notice when I pluck them, it doesn't hurt at all anymore, they seem to just come right out. My eyelashes on the other hand are becoming sparse. It was recommended that I try out  Thrive Causemetics: an awesome company that designs fake lashes for women going through cancer treatments (or even those that aren't!). Their lashes can be used up to 30 times, and their glue is meant to stick to skin: not lash. This is awesome, as most glue and lashes are meant to adhere to your natural lash line and won't stick when there isn't any hair! I have worn them once and they are beautiful and natural looking. While they are a bit more full then what I normally wear mascara-wise, they are definitely nicer then my natural lashes! (My wig and fake lashes are nicer then my natural ones. Why would I ever want my hair to grow back!?) Bonus: Every time you purchase from them, they donate a pair to a woman going through cancer treatment! :)

Other  then that, I've been keeping busy as usual! Here's a random assortment of pictures I've taken of my "escapades" from the last few weeks (I didn't take any pictures of my cats, or of my naps, but trut me there was a lot of both of those as well):

Jeff and I celebrated our 6th Valentines day together! We had a plan for Jeff to make dinner once he was home from work, but I didn't want there to be any stress. Instead, we walked to Trio, a cozy bar in our area, and had some appetizers and fancy drinks. We chatted and reminisced, trying to remember what we did the previous five Valentine's days. Naturally, we both got each other gifts from Chapters (my cute new scarf with the vintage glasses pattern has been on my wishlist!) and then I cried at my sappy card. Typical. I feel pretty lucky to have him by my side: not only this year when I'm at my worst, but for all the years past and all the years to come.

We got to spend some quality time playing Laser Tag (we were called "those adults in the back" by the facilitator...), and eat some Valentine's inspired cake with the wedding party of our best friends Kris & Graham. Aren't we a snazzy looking group? (Kris and I are in the back there dressed up as the little boy and ET for Halloween...).

So pleased to be spending more time with my cousin and sister! This week we went for lunch and binge watched Ana Faris movies on Netflix.  We have been trying out arm knitting and finger knitting. It's so easy!! You should try it. I have made an infinity scarf in about 45 minutes for $6. Next we're going to try a nice chunky blanket. Like I need another blanket...

I went to a Bachelorette in Montreal!! Seriously. I have had a few people go "!?!?!" about that one. It may SEEM like overdoing it but let me be honest: I was SO ECSTATIC to be doing something normal. I miss partying! That sounds bad, but I can reassure you the drinks were limited and I sanitized my hands more times then is considered normal. We ate and drank and danced and it was a fabulous celebration. I came back tired but so happy. Thank you to Jackie for organizing such a great trip and of course to Katrina for being such an awesomely fun bride.

Skating on the canal with my favorite dude! We were lucky to go on one of the few days that wasn't -40. It's actually shocking that last weekend Ottawa was named the coldest capital in the WORLD.  Let's be honest, we only went for the beavertails. We aren't really the winter type. Unless it involves a beach or backyard and a cooler of cold drinks, I'm not really the "outdoorsy" type either. Regardless, it felt great to get fresh air! I am definitely worse at skating then I remember.

 

I kept telling Katrina how she must have sub-consciously planned all of her events around my treatments, because not only was I able to attend them all but I felt good! Her wedding was this Saturday, and if anyone tells you that you can not DIY a wedding and have it be beautiful, they are mistaken. Winter weddings are so rare and it was a winter wonderland: complete with blue drinks, a hot chocolate bar and a long fur cape for the bride. I can't wait to see the pictures and video. I was able to make it till the end and we danced all night long. I can't imagine a couple that is more in love or perfect for each other then Katrina & Matt and I was so happy I got to be a part of their celebration! (PS - YES that is my wig in an updo. YES, I consider myself an A+ pro at wig styling now)

Happy colours!

A girlfriend of mine sent me this hilarious article titled "12 Things Never To Say To Someone That Has Cancer". I laughed my head off. Cancer jokes have become frequent in my household and are also extra helpful for persuading people to do things for me. For example: "Jeff...can you PLEASE get me a glass of water? But... I have cancer!!" or when I borrow my sister's clothes... "Lianne, this is my cancer sweater! I wear it when I'm not feeling well!". Who could say no to that? Throw in that C word and you've got it made. Sometimes you have to make light/take advantage of things that suck! ;)

In other cancer-related news (because that's what you come here for, right?!), Krysta Rodriguez - a TV & Broadway star - was recently diagnosed with breast cancer and started a fantastic blog that's in it's baby stages (she just started her chemo), called Chemo Couture. When I read her blog, I feel like a seasoned pro when it comes to treatments now and that is so funny to me. Only a few short months ago, I was finding myself frantically searching "chemo tips", "breast cancer side effects" or "how to keep my hair as long as possible" reading everything there was to know about the fight I was up against. She's only a few posts in, but I relate to her writing and her tone. A lot of what she says really speaks to me. Here's some musings after her first week of chemo:

"Miraculously, a week later I feel almost perfectly normal. It’s an eery and slightly empowering feeling to know you are sick but to feel so normal, like you’re cheating the system. I feel almost guilty about it. During this time I still haven’t shared with everyone that I have cancer. The secret inside is so large but the desire for normalcy is monumentally larger.  I have found that sometimes it just feels good to pretend. One of the first things you realize is that no one wants to tell you their problems or talk about fun frivolities when there’s a cancer elephant in the room. What they don’t know is that I’m the LAST thing I want to talk about! I don’t want something as greedy as this tumor to steal my ability to be a friend, a confidant, a woman. I’m not ready to be known this way."

My sister came over to my place on Sunday and we placed our bets on our favorite Oscar contenders. In reality, we didn't see as many movies as we would have liked and we all ended up guessing. I consider myself an Oscar's buff, and I still can't make educated guesses at categories like Best Short & Foreign Language Film. It's hard enough to get through all the ones nominated for Best Picture!

 It SOMEHOW turned into a 3-way tie between Jeff, Lianne and I which just means we are going to have to use our movie gift card to see a movie altogether. You simply can't fill out the ballots without an appropriate prize to go along with it! (This is one of the few times where my competitive side comes out...). Next year I am making a promise to have a big Oscar party in the theater room in our building. 

I'm going to try and tie things up as it's almost midnight and I've eaten an entire bag of Goldfish crackers so I think it's time for bed. I have an early day at the hospital tomorrow (8AM - don't they know I don't get up before noon?!). I have packed my hospital bag and even made a lunch to bring with me. I have my alarm set for 6. If you follow me on Instagram, you probably saw that both Jeff and I slept through our alarms last chemo day and were very late. Oops. Hopefully we can pull ourselves together for this round!

  

I wanted to share that I hit 15, 000 views on my blog this week. Wow. This has been since I published my first post back in the end of November. I disclose this only because I am in awe of the power of the internet and the incredible ways people can connect. At the wedding this weekend, a couple I know came over to me and told me they shared my blog with a family member that was recently diagnosed. She told me that it had helped her learn more about her diagnosis and what she was going to be enduring in the months to come. I remember reading Nalie's blog and being so thankful for her. So thankful to have someone else that I could look to, refer to, use as my guide. I'm scared but elated that I may be that for someone else. What started out as a post to keep my family and friends up to date on my day-to-day has turned into so much more. I definitely don't know 15, 000 people, so to those of you that are reading this that I haven't met personally: Hi! I am so happy you're here. If you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me. I may or may not be able to answer them, but I DO know how nice it feels to have someone that understands what you're going through, and I could be that for you (if you want). Mainly I'm just being selfish because I love making new friends, cancer or not. 

In one month from now I'll be done my treatments and feeling good! In a month it will also be Spring (25 more days!), so when you're trudging to work this week and you think you may have frostbite, keep that tidbit of information in your back pocket.

Until next time

 xx

Sam

Round 4: They don't give prizes for bravery!

1) Wearing the ice gloves and slippers for 90 full minutes. With only a few breaks of less then a minute between. I couldn't feel my fingertips for 3 days after this. If I can't have my hair I'll do anything to keep my nails! 2) Found this in a February edition magazine. Uh, I think I had that hair colour first, Chanel.
This last week I was sad. And mad.

That's a pretty terrible way to start a blog post. Please don't leave!

I had my treatment last Tuesday. It was a LONG day at the hospital. It started when our alarm didn't go off, and Jeff and I were set into a bag packing frenzy to try and get to the hospital for 8AM. We made it, and ended up waiting until 9:30 to get started. I guess it can be common to have an allergic reaction to Taxotere, so they administer it slowly the first time to ensure you're not allergic. I didn't end up leaving until around 4. In total I was there for a full 8 hours! That feels like a long time when you're chained to a bed and hooked up to an IV. They sent me on my way and told me to expect "flu like symptoms" and for my worst days to likely be Thursday and Friday. I was exhausted, so by the time I came home, Jeff and I hung out and went to bed. I waited for side effects to hit, and none came.

Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were similar. I was SO careful: I napped a lot (I think this is just because I love naps though, and not from the chemo), and waited for side effects to hit. Nothing came.

You know how every March here in Ottawa, we get that warm day that makes us feel like Spring is around the corner? We start to put away our winter boots, the snow is melting, our hopes are high...and then, inevitably, a snowstorm hits. We all know it's coming, but we indulge ourselves in believing that maybe, maybe this year will be different.

Yeah, that was a lot like chemo #4 for me. By Friday night, I had myself thinking "This Taxotere stuff is a joke!"; that I had escaped this one with NO side effects. On the Friday I even went out into the market and browsed around Rideau. 8 hours in the hospital with multiple bags of drugs flushed into me? No side effects? Really Sam?? What was I thinking.

Around Friday night my neck started to get a little sore. I didn't think much of it. If a sore neck was the only pain I had from this round, I would be a happy girl.

As you can probably guess, on Saturday morning, I woke up and I was sure that I had been in a major car accident. I could. not. move. My neck was stiff, I couldn't move my shoulders, I could barely make it up to go to the bathroom. I winced with every step I took. I still told myself, the pain is better then the foggy nausea I'd experienced with the FEC.

On Sunday I woke up, and was equally as sore as I was Saturday, if not more so. But to add to the mix, the gastro pains I felt were easily one of the most uncomfortable and painful things I've had to experience in my life so far (I can already picture Jeff telling me I'm being overly dramatic: but it's TRUE!). I've been resistant to taking sleeping pills and other stronger drugs prescribed to me, but my grandma sent me a message telling me "They don't give out prizes for bravery", so I kept the extra strength Tylenol going every 4 hours.

The Grammy's were on last Sunday night and I was stoked. I LOVE awards shows. Awards season is my thing. I never miss one. I flip back and forth between every feed of red carpet footage. I hate the mani-cam. I always know all the contenders and have a fairly decent idea of who the "favorites" are. I anxiously await seeing George Clooney at every event. So when I say I actually had to miss them because I was  too sick... as in, I was too sick to EVEN WATCH TV. Come on, watching TV takes no strength at all. That's how you know it was bad.

I yelled to Jeff from my room about how I thought I may be dying, and how I literally thought my stomach may explode like something weird I'd seen in the Walking Dead (new obsession). It was in that moment I started closing my eyes and thinking how there is absolutely no way I can do this again. I can't go through it a second and third time with my next treatment. The sore bones, sore body, puffy face, the intense stomach pains. I don't want to do this anymore. I dreamed up how I would walk into my oncologist office and say I QUIT. I quit this chemo thing. No more for me. I can't do it.

So, this is why I have been sad this last week. Handling your mental health is equally as important as trying to manage your physical health.

I'd lost the fight in that moment. I really did. I started to have a defeatist attitude. I normally comfort myself with strong words: You have been given this battle because you can fight it. You are able to win. You have the strength. You can endure anything. You can and will push through this. The pain is temporary. This will pass. You have your whole future ahead of you. What you go through now is so you can live for years to come. I have never allowed myself to even THINK "I can't do this anymore". I've been sad, afraid, but until then, I've never been beaten down.

I started looking in the mirror and seeing the shell of the human I used to be. I was mad. I was so, so mad. My face was swollen, bloated. I have gained weight since this whole ordeal and my body feels foreign to me now. I have always had a physically demanding job so I've always felt strong. Now, I can barely walk down the road without losing my breath. My body is literally trying to kill me. I don't look like me, I don't feel like me.

I went shopping this week and just got angry there too. Normally I feel happiest when I'm shopping. Instead, I felt angry that everyone else around me seemed to be enjoying their weekend off: they probably had plans to have drinks with friends, get their hair done, and go back to work on Monday feeling refreshed for their work week. I envied their routine.

I went to Chapters Barrhaven and  turned right back around and left. I was just reminded of the work I wasn't doing and the career that wasn't advancing and the skills I wasn't developing.

I started getting mad at any girl that had a cute haircut. I started getting upset at anyone I saw that was running by my apartment, that their bodies were allowing them to stay strong and fit. If you had a life that wasn't mine, I was mad at you. The hardest part is seeing everyone around you move forward as you stay idle. It's a lonely place.

My hot flashes are particularly bad, so recently I've given up sleeping at night. I will stay up until 3-4AM, and then sleep until noon. I started thinking, what's the point. My days aren't valuable anyways. I'm not doing anything. My time doesn't matter. I just want this to be over.

Knowing myself, it may be the exhaustion that had gotten me so down. I tend to be particularly fussy when I'm tired.

Today I went in to my work for what I thought was a disability package (or something of the sorts), and it turned out to be a massive group hug with my team and an overly generous donation they had gathered for me at our work Christmas party. I tend to get all choked up and overwhelmed when these things happen to me and I'm put on the spot, but I was bursting with pride when I saw so many of my favorite people in one place, literally busting their asses to make changes I had set so much of the ground work for before I left. It's so cool to see natural progression, people growing and learning, and for real change to happen.

While I was talking to the group, a girl I didn't recognize was tearing up beside me. I figured she was a new hire. I thought it was strange but nice that she was tearing up as I told the team that I was doing OK. She spoke up a little while later and said "I was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 26. If it makes you feel better, it's been 5 years and I've had two children since then".

I couldn't even speak. In this basement, with no more then 20 people, this woman who had happened to volunteer from Belleville on the day I happened to be visiting them, had gone through exactly what I'm going through. She found me later on, and we chatted about my diagnosis and hers and we exchanged e-mail addresses and she gave me her phone number, in case I needed to text someone who might know what I was going through.

Life is crazy. Life is random. Or is it? I don't know anymore. All I know is that when I start to feel particularly low, when those negative thoughts start to overtake my mind, something like this happens to me. Someone, or something, is sent to me to remind me that I'm not alone.

I left my work knowing that it wasn't a coincidence that I had met this girl. It just can't be. Some things can't be explained, and this is one of them. It was snowing tonight and it was beautiful. I haven't considered anything beautiful all week. I was too sad. I was too angry.

 I was eating lunch with a friend this week and we were talking about how some people seem to have it "so good". We talked about envy and how it ties in with anger. It reminded her of this clip above and I had such a laugh. "Just... no one in this car".

I have so many people in my life cheering me on. I am so blessed and lucky to have them all. I just needed that extra reassurance and comfort, that what I'm going through isn't foreign. I keep on learning and re-learning this as I go through this year. I'll probably have to re-learn this lesson another dozen times. Sometimes you get all consumed in your own drama that you forget that everyone else has their own thing going on. Whether it's cancer or not, that girl may have perfect hair but I can bet she doesn't have a perfect life. It probably isn't fair for me to be mad at her.

And for some reason, that makes me feel less lonely. And infinitely better. If you're going to have perfect hair you have to have something else wrong with you. (Kidding.)

So now I guess I can go back to being Sailor Sam again. Like Sailor Moon, but I'm fighting off cancer instead of evil. I need to get myself a cute cape.

xx

Sam

(un)Known: Am I Going To Die? (+ also less morbid talk about passion projects + hair obsessions)

I'm back!

And I have more to say then I did in my last post. I'm sorry (and also not sorry) for that. I'm trying to apologize less. In a good way! Just apply a little less pressure on myself and do what feels right. I needed a little break to unwind after treatment #3 and the holidays, but now I am forewarning you (yet again), that this is a massively long post! If you're down for making that commitment, grab a tea and settle in.

Chemo number 3 has treated me really, really well. It has been the easiest one to endure by far. I have a few theories on this...

1) I prepared like CRAZY this time. I made no plans the day before, I went for a delicious brunch the morning of, and I made sure I did not go into this appointment tired.

2) I draped myself in every single "good luck" charm, necklace, cross, article of clothing and pendant that has been given to me throughout this entire journey. Although I must have looked a  bit ridiculous, I didn't care.

3) Throughout my treatment this time, I spent a lot of time focusing on healing. I'm not completely sure if this works, but heck - why not try. I closed my eyes and focused on my tumour growing smaller. I repeated to myself, over and over and over: 6 cm. It will be six centimeters.

I was feeling off for about a week, but this time, the day after I was able to get up and walk to the coffee shop with my mom. I didn't sleep much, and I was a little out of it, but I also wasn't sick so that is a win to me. It's like being in a haze. Last Tuesday I woke up, and it is really out of nowhere... the haze is lifted. Since then, I'm just taking advantage of feeling good until I go in for my next treatment. Here's a few highlights:

  Squeezing in time together before work. Brunch is our specialty. I also got quite a few laughs out of my new trending hashtag: #lumberjeff

 Birthday dinner for Jeff's dad at the Keg 

Day after chemo and I am up and walking! And eating snacks.

 Chemo groceries.

So here's the real reason I deleted my last post. I have a really hard time talking about the "red" chemo drug they give me (also called epirubicin). When I got to the point in my last post where I started talking about my chemo, I erased the entire post. That's how bad it was. It's not that it makes me feel nauseous while it's being administered, but when I was sick the second round, all that came up was... red. Sorry for that graphic. Now, when it comes to thinking or talking of chemo, I absolutely cringe. Almost 2 weeks later, I still have a hard time with it. It was hard to sit there, seeing it dripping into me, so while the red drug was being administered, I focused on healing instead.

Epirubicin. My enemy. (Note: I found this picture on the internet but wanted you to have a cringeworthy visual).

Healing has been the theme of chemo #3. I have had so many people tell me what they think will heal me. I've read all the stories: the man who juiced his cancer away, the power of water, the power of various spices, what you should and shouldn't eat.

My mom told me a story that I originally didn't think much of, but ended up being the one that stuck with me the most. She had a woman come into the restaurant that told her that she too was fighting breast cancer. She told my mom that she repeatedly thanked her breasts and kissed them - that's how grateful she was to them. She was grateful her cancer was found in her breasts, where she was able to feel it, catch it and notice it before it was too late. I immaturely laughed at the visual of kissing your boobs. But, I have thought a lot about this story since then.

I have met quite a few people so far that have told me they didn't catch their cancer until it was too late. A lot of times, with cancer in other parts of the body, there are no real side effects until it gets too far. My cancer doesn't hurt me, but the lump I found was more then noticeable. This allowed me to seek out all the necessary treatments and now I have a really positive diagnosis. For others I've met, they aren't as lucky. So, I've decided I'm choosing to be grateful for my cancer: I'm grateful it was detected early, I'm grateful we have drugs that allow me to live a somewhat normal life during my treatments, I'm grateful for my body and it's ability to tell me that something was wrong.

I'm talking about this story now, because it's helped me get through a very real side of getting diagnosed that I haven't spoken about yet on my blog. That is the total paralyzing fear that comes with cancer.

I have received so many e-mails and messages at this point applauding me for my positive attitude and it's true: cancer isn't my life. I am so much more then my cancer. I still do normal things. But, I'd be lying to you if sometimes at 3AM I didn't have a good cry that came out of a place of total fear.

When I found out I had cancer, I immediately thought: Am I going to die?

I think this is a pretty common reaction. And, sometimes, it can't help but creep into your thoughts. Will this be the thing that kills me in the end? Even when this is all over, am I going to wake up every day and think, is today the day the cancer comes back? This time, will my prognosis not be as positive?

I spend a lot of time alone (secretly, I love it! So much time to read and craft and colour!). Recently, I've spent a whole lot of this time thinking and reflecting: on my work, my relationships, my life as a whole. Recently, I can't stop thinking: Who else gets a wonderful opportunity like this at the age of 24 to take a year off and really prepare to have a truly fresh start?

I have obviously contemplated the question of "Why me?" as in: Why did I have to get cancer? I'm pretty healthy. Why me? But more recently, I can't stop thinking: Why do I get to have this fresh start? I get to make changes to my life I would never have had the opportunity to make in my old life.

I'm going to be honest with you and myself. I wasn't taking my life in a good direction before this past November. I was working 65 hours a week. And, trust me, this is not Chapters standard. At my last job, working for the salon, I worked similar hours. At first I thought it was the job, and when it happened again at Chapters I realized... it was me. And, I didn't really see it as a problem. Everyone was concerned about me: I was voluntarily working 9PM-9AM for a full month (no, not the other way around: overnights!). No one was asking me to work these hours, and in fact, one time my boss actually told me: Sam, there is no pride in working these hours. You don't need to do this to impress anyone.

Truth is, I wasn't doing it for a promotion. I don't even think I was doing it out of desire for perfection. I just truly love working.  I get really, really invested in my jobs and I'm really passionate about business, growing people and creating dynamic teams, figuring out how to make things work efficiently. I'm lucky I get to do something I'm really passionate about every day. In fact, when they ask me to think of my "happy place" before I go for particularly stressful procedures at the hospital, I close my eyes and put together book tables and displays in my head. Some may find that sad, but I find it really relaxing and I consider myself really lucky.

But, my life was NOT a full, well rounded life. All of the above sounds great, but here was the reality: I ate Starbucks for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I was working 5:30-4:30PM most regular days. My health suffered because of this and so did my bank account. I was ALWAYS exhausted... like so exhausted, I would have nervous breakdowns. It got to the point where those extra hours I was working weren't productive: I was too tired to be productive. My relationships suffered: when I wasn't working, I was responding to e-mails, calling my work to check in, talking about my work. I wasn't really "present". Jeff suffered most from this, naturally. I could count some days where I did not drink ANY water: my skin suffered so badly for this. I was breaking out like crazy. I was gaining weight, and ultimately, I wasn't actually very happy.

In retrospect, I think I was on the fast track to becoming a workaholic. And I got mad when anyone told me that: I thought they weren't supportive, and that's how business "is".

I see now how that was not sustainable. I would not have been able to work like that forever, but I wasn't planning on stopping any time soon. I worked so hard I let my health card expire, and I let my then (very small) tumour go unchecked for months. We all know how the rest of the story goes.

When I was talking to the Ottawa Sun, they asked me what my hobbies were: what did I like to do? I was like uh, well. I like to work? That's generally when I knew something was wrong.

I have a point to this, I promise I will tie it all together! Since I've gotten sick, I've had a couple huge eye openers.

Hobbies are fun. I thought to myself once, a few months ago, on a day off: what do people even do when they aren't working? Well.. they scrapbook, they learn a new craft, they take enjoyment in cooking and taking care of their bodies, they excercise, they spend time with their boyfriends and watch movies and read books. A whole big life out there I have been missing out on!

When I think to myself: Am I going to die? I try to counteract it with, I could die in a bus accident tomorrow. I could fall off my balcony. There is always the risk of dying, cancer or not, and the truth is: If I am going to die, what do I want to do before that time comes? (Side note: I'm obviously not going to die anytime soon, duh. I need to go to Disney World atleast 6 more times before then. But, you get what I'm saying).

In this article, a nurse writes down the top 5 regrets that she heard most commonly from the dying. What was among them? "I wish I hadn't worked so hard". Dying has become a reality to me. If I died tomorrow, do I really want it to be following a 65 hour work week with bad skin and having eaten a Starbucks roasted ham breakfast sandwich as my last supper? (I mean they're good, but they're not THAT good).

So, I'm pretty grateful for my cancer. I'm grateful that I found it early, that it's given me a chance to re-evaluate my life and stopped me before things really spiraled out of control. It sounds lame to say "everything happens for a reason" but I think it's true. It's made Jeff and I's relationship so strong, and I have spent more time with my family then I have in years. I learned to weave and I've set my goal on Goodreads to read 40 books this year. I also realized I really like writing this blog!

When I realized how much I liked writing this blog, I actually started researching passion projects. I want to make sure that when I do go back to work, I am able to find a better work/life balance. I need to make a commitment and habit that I can not break, something I can be as equally as passionate about as I am with my work. A passion project is something outside of your work you do that is something you love: some people decide to volunteer, others just put aside an hour or two to paint, write, or read. Some people take on bigger projects: starting a blog, a book club, etc. It can look a lot like a side business, or turn into one, but in the beginning it should be something that you want to do: not something you need to do. It's fulfilling our inner desires to create and have something to show for our time. It's also a great way to make friends too (a topic I have spoken about with many people now: after high school, how in the heck do you make friends outside of work?!)

I've made a list of a few bigger projects I want to start. With the growing audience made up of you guys - lovely readers of my blog - I've found it really exciting that I can reach so many people while sitting in my living room. I love sharing, writing, and communicating with like minded people. I still can't get over how many cool and interesting people this blogging experience has allowed me to "meet" (e-mail and message with mostly!) so far.

What my days look like.

Naturally, my first instinct was to start a book club. I'm not sure if it would be a club where we actually meet, or something we could do online. I just know I love books, and spend a lot of my time researching what book to read next (as well as keeping informed on what books are up and coming, I can thank my job for this). Secondly, I was thinking of how nice it would be to have something to DO in the evenings that could include my friends and family. Then I started thinking how it would be awesome to have some sort of craft club. I know that I would love to learn to crochet, knit, embroider... I would love to learn to make terrariums, perfumes, and indulge in all of my other DIY projects on Pinterest that I just can't seem to find the time to complete. I feel like this would be a fun way to get everyone I love together, and learn a new skill at the same time.

How I spend my time: colour coding my bookshelves (amongst other things)

Would you be interested in doing something like this with me? Am I crazy? Do you have any ideas for passion projects - or do you have one for yourself? Do you find that it helps you lead a richer life? Comment below or let me know here :)

Now, I wanted to take the time to share where the inspiration for this above post came from. I had lunch with one of my friends, Lindsay, this week. To fully understand the impact of what she has done for me, you need the back story:

Lindsay and I worked as co-managers (she worked managing a salon in Orleans, mine Bayshore). We've kept in touch since we both left the salon (she works for Nordstrom now! So exciting). We bonded over hair care and she is easily one of the funniest and nicest people you could meet. You can't help but be a little bit jealous of Lindsay: nice, smart, and drop dead gorgeous. On top of all of this, what I could never get over is her HAIR. Lindsay has THE nicest hair I have ever seen. She could sell a hair product just by saying "This is what I'm using" and people were sold. It is long, brunette, shiny, strong, healthy, and holds any and all hairstyles: curly, straight, you name it.

My best friend jokes with me all the time how my wig is actually nicer and thicker then my own hair, and part of me is excited to see how it will look when it grows out (after having platinum hair, no matter what I used, my hair was so brittle. Shaving it is like another fresh start for me!)

So, I have major hair envy of Lindsay. In the beginning, I texted her and told her my diagnosis and said: "I can only hope my hair grows back more beautiful then yours".

When I got in the car with her this past Saturday, I saw her and the FIRST thing I looked at was her hair: It was in a ponytail and it was SHORT! I immediately thought: Lindsay got on the "Lob" (long bob) train all the celebrities are doing. She looked at me and said, "Well, because you noticed right away...."and gave me this:

As we hung out in the afternoon, she told me the story of her fundraiser she held for me over Christmas.

Lindsay and her friends from her graduating class (about 50) always get together for a potluck. Lindsay messaged everyone in advance, saying she was doing a fundraiser and in turn, she would be cutting off her hair to donate. She told me she was sort of uncomfortable at first about asking her friends for money right around Christmas, and she wasn't sure how it would turn out. She set her goal at $1000. She figured if everyone donated 5-10 dollars that it would be a good start. She started getting messages from friends saying they were sending her $100. When she held the party, she started to notice many of her friends selflessly putting in $20 into her box. Someone came over to her and said: Lindsay, I think you're going to be close to your goal after tonight. One thing she told me that stuck was that "the act of giving was contagious. Once they saw others doing it, everyone was so willing to make a donation". I find this is totally true and we've seen it on grand scales (ALS Ice bucket challenge, etc). It makes you feel good and like you're a part of something bigger then just yourself.

Is it possible she's MORE beautiful with short hair? 11 inches chopped and ready to be donated! Funny story: Lindsay brought the hair with her to our lunch date so I could play with it before we donated it. She seriously knows me so well: this was my dream come true. Creepy? Maybe...

She raised $600 in one night. After that, she shared her story with family and they made up the difference very quickly. Even after she had made her goal, she had a friend donate $50: making the grand total $1050. (I also have to mention Lindsay also sold her ENTIRE OPI nail polish collection on Kijiji and included that in her donation as well. Let's just say at one point in our salon lives we were huge nail polish junkies so I was very touched by this!)

When she gave me the envelope, part of me wanted to cry, but I was too happy. I was also completely shocked: when Lindsay messaged me saying she wanted to "show" me something, I thought I was going to get a little sneak peek of the insides of the new Nordstrom or something. I wasn't expecting this at all. Being overwhelmed also cued an immediate hot flash and we drove to lunch with our windows down (thanks for being a good sport in the -30 degree weather Linds..ha).

I will likely never get to meet or thank everyone that helped support Lindsay and myself, but if you're reading this: Thank you. You are a fantastic person. I am so grateful for you!

Working retail together and coming from similar backgrounds, I feel like Lindsay and I relate well to each other. She listened to me rant on about my work and we shared stories of what we were doing now. It was during that conversation, talking it all out, that I realized most of the above: I mean, I knew my working habits were unsual, but it wasn't until that moment, saying it all out loud, I realized I may have a problem.

So.. Lindsay helped me out in more ways then she may have expected: taking a year off sounds good on paper, but sometimes, it can be frustrating. When I confided about how awkward I felt accepting donations from others, we talked a lot about paying it forward and how the way I affected and treated those in my pre-cancer life is what has brought all of this overwhelming support. She made me feel like I still have value, even though some days I'm stuck sitting on my couch. We talked quite a bit about my diagnosis (sometimes I can't help it), and she made me feel like I had the power to say "no" to situations I didn't want to be a part of and that there was more to my life then just working. I'm seriously lucky and blessed with some pretty amazing friends. When Lindsay is rich and famous, this is me publicly saying: I was friends with her first!

Okay, time to wrap up. I go for my next treatment on February 3rd (time is flying), and my oncologist appointment is this upcoming Thursday to discuss how I am "doing" in regards to me chemo. I still have a lot to say about genetics, fertility, health and diet... but this post has gone on long enough! We'll save that for next time. ;)

 Last but not least, the happiest part of my past weekend. Sporadic jam session at the bagel shop by my apartment. Now I'm obsessed with traditional folk music: doesn't it just make you smile?! (I also want to marry the man with the dreadlocks. Don't worry, I told Jeff this already. Maybe we can pull a Sister Wives or something? ... KIDDING).

xx

Sam