30: I Made It

I have a wrinkle 

A worry line
In between my eyes 

I like to think it’s from 
Squinting at the bright sun in Mexico 
Concentrating on a concept in a loved book
Confused frown that I ordered a gin and tonic 
and this was most definitely soda

I ran to the bathroom mirror 
To the bedroom mirror 
Frantic 
I have a wrinkle!
I’m so grateful I lived long enough to experience 
This wrinkle

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

Radiation is Not Like Lying In a Tanning Bed (& Other Musings)

                                                 Do you guys think this should be my first post-chemo haircut? ;)

I'm 6 weeks post surgery. My scars are all healed up "nicely" (although, they aren't really nice... let's be honest here).

I had a good run the last few weeks. I'd been sleeping regular hours again and that alone has begun to erase the John Mayer-esque eyes I developed during chemo. I started dreaming about going back to work, having normal dates with Jeff that didn't involve hospitals (it started to feel like all of our days off together were filled with appointments), conversations with friends that were light hearted and had more to do with long term plans and goals and less to do with cancer. I started letting myself feel 24 again.

                  
                
                  
                      I'm 100% sure that baby snuggles, cute dogs, learning new skills (like making sushi!), and being silly with friends is the true meaning of life.
I even made the leap to start introducing exercise back in to my life at about the 3 week post-surgery mark. I went out and bought a Fitbit. I knew it was time when in the middle of the night, my legs were so restless I felt like I needed to go for a run around the block. It's in those moments I realized that I just spent the last 6 months in my bed. I am sure, one of these days, I will write you a full review on the pros and cons of my Fitbit but for now I'll say this: if you are competitive, you will be motivated by this device. I strapped it on my first day and saw I was walking, on average, 2000 steps (the recommended daily is 10 000). So, next thing I knew, I was waking up earlier, taking the long way to get a coffee in the morning, and going on the treadmill with my book to get those extra steps in.

With this new-found energy I'm trying to check some things off my list. Being kind to my body is my #1 priority right now. It needs some TLC. I have been trying to walk for a half hour on the treadmill, then jog/walk in intervals for a half hour. I got the OK from my doctor to do any sort of lower-body exercising. I feel my muscles loosening up a bit again. I have always despised exercising, but recently it had become a part of my day that is so peaceful. I know I get a full hour dedicated to reading my book and listening to my music. The best part? My gym is so quiet. As in, no one is ever using it. I don't wear my wig or pencil in my eyebrows and no one sees me. It is the ideal situation.

I'm unsure if it's related, but as soon as I introduced exercise into my diet, my hot flashes nearly disappeared. Now, this is likely because I am two months post chemo (!) and I was told this was when they would wear off, but it seems too coincidental.

Back when I still had no eyebrows. They have been growing in like CRAZY the last few weeks though. I am going to have to get them threaded ASAP.

My baby hair is so soft, I can't stop running my fingers through it. I actually need to wash it with shampoo now. It seems to be going curly in the back! I'm excited at the prospect of being able to part it again and hoping that will come at the 12 week mark. I feel increasingly frustrated with my wig: while I felt comfortable in it throughout treatment, I just don't want to wear it anymore. 

Taken today! 11 weeks post chemo. 

Last week I met with my radiation oncologist to prepare for radiation,  the next stage in my treatment. The original size of my tumor, how close it was to my skin, and that is was aggressive and had spread to my lymph nodes all played a factor in my upcoming treatment plan.

I went for a CT sim at the hospital where they made a mold of my chest, and I got my radiation tattoos. How badass. They are the size of a freckle and ensure your radiation technologists can line you up easily.

I will be receiving 5 weeks of radiation (every. single. day.) from Monday-Friday, a whopping total of 25 sessions. Radiation has to be given in small doses, until you reach the end: this is when you are considered having received a "full dosage". Your body still processes the radiation in the 2 weeks afterwards. This is typically when you see the worst of your side effects.

Last summer, I fell asleep on Westboro beach for nearly 3 hours. I woke up to the most horrendous burn. It blistered and bubbled and I couldn't wear pants or bend over for weeks. I have a hilariously vivid memory of making Jeff rub me down with aloe and moisturizer while violently shaking and crying from the pain. I had just started my job at Chapters where I would go to the bathroom and peel off layers of my skin so I didn't offend customers. It was a real 10/10.

That is the worst burn I have ever experienced (and yes, I am well-versed on the damages the suns rays can have and trust me, I have integrated a high SPF into my daily foundation and don't plan on sitting in the sun without sun screen this summer. No more sun burns for this girl!). I am going to remember how this full-body burn felt and feel grateful I am only doing radiation in a few localized places, knowing it is better then the full body burn I had last year.

I am receiving radiation to the chest, shoulder, armpit and collar bone area. I actually found out the (disturbing) news that I actually have a cancerous lymph node in my chest that did not fully clear up post chemo. They aren't able to remove lymph nodes that are under the chest muscle and so close to the lungs, so the only option is for radiation. I was a bit concerned about this, but my radiation oncologist told me this is the point of the treatment and not to worry. So, I'm not going to worry. I trust that with 5 weeks we should be able to take care of it.

I started my first radiation session this last Tuesday. The times vary each day, but my sessions last about 15 minutes. As my mom and I have been going to radiation treatments together (weird, right?), they have been so kind and accommodating to ensure our treatment times coincide.

I guess I was picturing lying in an intensive tanning bed when it came to radiation. It is actually far from it (and significantly less relaxing). I'm on the 'Tomo' machine - we only have one of these in our hospitals in Ottawa - meaning I have to be treated at the General.  It's kind of like going for a cat scan. You lie down, lift your arms straight up, and a wax mold is placed on your chest and then you're strapped in. The sounds you hear aren't as loud as an MRI, but they definitely aren't soothing either. I felt the anxiety the first day... you are super constricted and have to lay completely still for a full 12 minutes. This is actually way harder then it sounds!

So I've been working on my meditating skills. I try and just zone out. I have only one other memory of a time when I zoned myself completely out of a situation and that's when I got the tattoo on my ribcage and my mom told me the faces I was making from the pain were similar to those you make when giving birth. I didn't want to be present for that either, so I have some practice with taking a deep breath and going to my happy place (mainly full of books, bright colours, water and beaches).

I'd spoken to a few of my pink sisters before I started radiation and asked them what to expect. Everyone was very adamant that it was easy-breezy compared to chemo. You can expect a fairly severe sunburn by the end, and some fatigue, but you will be fine.

I'm four sessions in, and I can't lie to you guys. I feel like absolute death.

I can even venture to say that the way I have been feeling for the past two weeks are equal or worse then most of my chemo sessions (mainly because I have been feeling sick for so long). 

Now, my original post blamed the radiation for this. With some digging, and seeing every doctor available to me (I have true appointment fatigue - most days this week I have had radiation and 1-2 other appointments with various doctors as well), I have been told that my side effects are 100% not from the radiation. It is localized, and you simply don't see these kinds of effects from the treatment.

I posted this picture on Instagram about two and a half weeks ago that made a few of you a bit nervous! No, I am not doing chemo again. I am, however, being administered a drug called Herceptin every 21 days and it is in the chemo "family". I go to the chemo ward where they use my port to give it to me. There are very minimal to no side effects for most people.

"Most people".

No side effects for...most people.

We've all determined that I've become extremely lucky this past year, so of course I would be the one to have extremely severe side effects to Herceptin.

My head hurts so badly it is making me extremely nauseous. It is compromising my sight at times. I feel like I may faint. My body is so sore. All those chemo-like side effects are back to haunt me. Only, during chemo they give you piles of drugs to help you through it. You don't get that with Herceptin.

I wasn't expecting that.

So, my normal 24 year old life has been put on hold as I take care of my poor, poor body. I keep telling her it will be over soon and in reality it has to go away soon. It's been two weeks! I've curled up in bed most afternoons this week and tried to sleep the pain away but it keeps creeping back every morning.

If I never have to have another IV again, I would be totally OK with that. 

I put my guard down and I find it has made it so much harder to be strong and persevere through the pain. I kept saying "Well, the worst is over!" after I recovered from surgery. Radiation - what a joke! Herceptin - I'll just make sure I have the afternoon free! 

Here's some real talk. When it comes to cancer, there isn't any "easy" part. Don't celebrate too early. It isn't over until the very last appointment for your very last treatment, and even then... is it ever truly over? The anxiety of having scans every few months to determine, is it back? I don't think life will be easy ever again after this.

The sweetest picture I found on Instagram. Jeff and I decided we need to print it out to keep.

I wish I had something else more positive or upbeat to talk about. I'm not (completely) miserable. I just wasn't prepared to fight the chemo battle ever again. I retired that warrior-like portion of my life (of myself). I was ready to go back to worrying about normal things, like what colour to paint my nails or what new TV show I should watch once I'm done Scandal, and what I was going to do this weekend. I have had such an overwhelming few months that I just wanted to coast for awhile. Life doesn't always respects your "wants" though, does it?

I was so discouraged at how sick I've been. Jeff looked at me the other day and said - get out of bed. Don't give up. You aren't dying. He said these things in the nicest way possible, and he was right. I (think) I have done a good job of coping through the last few months - and not just coping, but living while I'm at it. I had some dark moments, but for the most part I was genuinely happy. Yet, I have let this unexpected sickness pull the rug out from under me. I've been having some serious woe-is-me moments. 

I need to listen to my body. I know that I need to rest to heal, but I also need to make an effort to do the simple stuff. Like get out of my pajamas every once in awhile. Oh, and shower. That needs to be a priority. ;)

So I'm re-learning lessons I thought I had already dealt with. I have had so many people say to me "I don't know what I would do if I was you. You're so brave! I couldn't deal with all of that".

Here's my answer to that:

Yes, you can.

Yes, you would have.

Because when it's happening to you, you realize you have no other option. 

I'm not some superhuman who loves needles and copes extremely well with side effects. 

When it's your life, I can guarantee you find the strength buried deep inside you to cope with more then you ever thought possible.

So, when you are feeling overhwhelmed on the day-to-day: remember that. Don't wait for cancer to come along to find that bravery. 

Be bold before you have to be. 

I need to remember all that I've gone through and realize that if I can endure what I have the last 6 months, I can deal with anything.  

I can deal with the cruel woman who works for Great West Life and is giving me a hard time with my benefits recently

I can deal with my hair growing slowly on the top and longer on the sides so it looks like a mullet

I can deal with the fact that Olivia Pope may never end up with President Fitz on Scandal

I can deal with the headaches and stomachaches and fatigue and all of the rotten side effects that make me feel as if life isn't worth getting out of bed

I can deal with all of it because it's worth it. The end result: a happy, beautiful (not so) "normal" life after cancer will be worth it.

And with that, I'm off to enjoy the most beautiful weekend we've had in awhile (under a heavily shaded patio umbrella, hat and scarf).

 xx

Sam

PS - My friend Diana recently had a serious fall and has been in the hospital recovering. She has been a wonderful support to me during the last 6 months. I have experienced firsthand the power behind all of your positive energy and prayers, and I know she will come to good health in no time if we all stand behind her. Please include her in your thoughts tonight. xo

It Doesn't Have To Be Perfect, It Just Has To Be Done

1 & 2) MOH duties. Wedding dress trial! 3&4) Refreshing our apartment for Spring. 5) Can you tell I'm like really, really happy for Spring to be here? 6) Sens game!

Hey!

It's been (nearly) a month since I updated you all on my current affairs. It's been exactly 1 month since my last Lupron injection, and 22 days since my last chemo. This means I'm essentially Lupron free, and in about 10 days the chemo will be out of my system. Yay!

So much has happened in the last month, that I almost felt I couldn't blog anymore. I felt I could never write it all out, I would never catch up. I tend to feel the same way when I scrapbook and I get really behind on my dates: next thing I know I have a year's worth of pictures to scrapbook and it deters me from getting started. I feel so bogged down and behind.

I feel the same way about my blog. I don't know where to begin. I guess the old phrase rings true in that "it doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done" and "you just have to start". So... here it goes:

My family has been going through some major hardship this past month which has changed absolutely everything. I am going to choose to not say anything more at this time, and hope you can respect our need for privacy, but I promise I will write about it in due time. It's part of the story. It needs and begs to be told, but I can't decide how I feel yet. In some ways, it isn't even my story to tell. Sorry for being so cryptic, but I will leave you with this: we are all okay, we will all be okay, and I am very proud to come from such a strong and supportive family (both Price AND Mitchell). We are beyond lucky for the support we have been given.

So.. let's go back about a month!

I was really blessed to have had so many of my friends and family come for my last chemo session. I felt like a proud mom showing off her honours students. I brought them all into the chemo ward, and had everyone rotate so they could come up in 10 minute increments to sit with me (the nurses only allowed me to have 2 people sit with me at a time). I showed them the big fireplace I love to sit by, introduced everyone to my lovely nurses, and showed them where to get water, hot blankets and ice mitts. When it came time to ring the bell, everyone was allowed to come upstairs. We took over the entire hallway and I was really touched to see all the nurses crying to see all of the support. For some reason, I decided I wouldn't wear my hat when I rung the bell. It was something I decided in the last few minutes. I knew there would be lots of pictures being taken. Up to this point, I hadn't allowed anyone to take any pictures of me without my hat or wig, let alone just see me without my hats or wig.

Talented Cakes by Crystal ;)

We were all undecided on the dress code. St Patty's day green or breast cancer pink? My best friends chose to do both...

Even got my family from afar watching on Facetime!

I decided when I looked back on the video and pictures, I would feel like I was cheating myself if I didn't show what the treatment truly did to my body. I wanted to be able to see (and everyone that would be seeing the pictures too), what chemo actually "looks" like. I have been fairly open about my treatments, so why should I not be open with what it has done to me? This is me - this is what I look like - and I am okay with that. In all honesty, I'm not able to watch the video of myself ringing the bell. I haven't watched it once. It doesn't feel real yet.

My chemo bell from one of my best friends. When I rang the bell at the hospital, it was hard to be as excited as I wanted to be because I knew I had a rough week ahead of me. She gave me my own bell I could ring once I felt better!

I re-read some of my past posts from this winter where I said I was okay. I was and AM okay. I lived through it. The worst, I believe, is over. But I can't help but laugh when I remember thinking around Christmas that I was "okay", because honestly: I was far from okay. I was very sick. I was not myself. You say you're okay and you put your head down and get through it, but looking back... wow. It wasn't a walk in the park. In retrospect it was painful, it was exhausting, and sometimes it felt never-ending... but here we are and Spring is upon us and I made it. Seems significant that with the end of my treatments and as I start to heal comes the sunshine and good weather.

I thought long and hard, and if I were to give chemo advice, this would be it:

1) Don't rush out and buy an expensive wig, hats and scarves until the hair is gone. Sure, have a few scarves on hand for when it starts to fall but let me tell you: I bought every leopard print scarf and hat under the sun and spent a fair amount of money doing so. Once the hair was gone, you learn what makes you comfortable. I never felt entirely comfortable going out in scarves and hats. I wore wigs most of the time, and donated most of the hats I purchased to the cancer center. Wait and see what suits you!

2) Utilize the resources available to you. I didn't, and I regret it. You are able to see social workers, nutritionists, and get free classes at the Maplesoft center (knitting, yoga, etc). Sign up for Look Good, Feel Better (a class that shows women undergoing treatments how to apply makeup and style wigs etc. and you get a BIG swag bag!), and look into getting free wigs and hats through the hospital. We are so lucky to have this available to us.

3) Eat healthy! Unlike in the movies, you won't spend your whole treatment puking. In fact, the steroids increase your appetite. This, paired with the fact that you will  be too exhausted to excercise much, means that you are likely to gain weight. I let myself off the hook for the first few months and told myself... you have cancer! Poor you! Eat what you want. This will catch up with you, and fast. Now, I have to worry about losing the chemo weight. It would have been easier to eat healthy from the get go!

4) Be kind to yourself and listen to your body. It's so discouraging to finally start to feel good after treatments, knowing you have to go back in for your next one. It feels like a never-ending cycle. On days when you feel good take advantage of it. Don't be hard on yourself when you need to have a laid back day. Give yourself little things to look forward to: knowing I had a new book to read while I was recovering or getting addicted to a TV show is a good way to pass the time!

5) Be prepared. You will have so many appointments. Use a planner (either on your phone or written down). Fill your prescriptions early so you aren't running around on chemo day. Have an appointment buddy. You will forget things if you go to appointments alone. It's better to have a second set of ears!

6) It's only hair. Don't fall for all of the products that will help you "keep your hair" longer. Nothing you put on your head will combat the intensity of the medicine you are putting in your body. Hair was one of the hardest hurdles for me, but in the end: you get over it. The sooner you come to terms with it the sooner you can move on!

I thought I would feel more proud, excited, or hopeful but in truth I'm still in warrior mode. I am only 1/3 done and I am moving on to the next hurdle. Surgery time!

I met with my surgeon, Dr. Arnaout, about a week and a half ago. I was so excited to see her again. The first time we met, if you'll remember, it was my birthday and I ended up ugly crying, wiping my snot on Jeff's shoulder and worrying about how in the world I would look without hair (Girl needed to learn some priorities!). This time, I came equipped with questions.

I go for my surgery on April 15th where I will be having a full mastectomy and axillary lymph node dissection. 

I went into the appointment with one demand: I never, ever want to go through this again. Whichever surgery that will guarantee I never have to go through this again, I will endure. I asked for a double mastectomy.

Here's the great thing about Dr. Arnaout and why I love how forward thinking the views on breast health are here in Ottawa: when I asked for the double they looked at me like I was CRAZY. This may have been a solution in the past, but just "getting rid of everything" isn't really an acceptable solution anymore.

She asked me "Sam, if I told you that you had a 90% chance of winning the lottery, would you buy a ticket?" I said, of course. She said "Okay. Now what if I told you there was only a 10% chance of you ever getting cancer in your right breast in your lifetime? Would you still choose to remove it?".

Because my genetics test came back negative, there is actually a very small chance I will develop cancer in the other side. Even WITH a mastectomy, I still have about a 5-10 percent chance of recurring breast cancer even in my left side. I think she could see my worry about this, and being wonderful, she told me instead of mammograms, she will screen me with MRI's longer then any patient she has had before. If there is any cancer in my future, it will be caught early. This put my mind at ease.

So, she measured the tumor. Guess what? In the end, it came back no bigger then 3cm. To the touch, it is so small, sometimes I'm not sure where it is. Considering how BIG it was when I started, I felt pretty good about this.

I had always prepared for a mastectomy, but we decided that based on the MRI, I would possibly be able to have a lumpectomy. There is lots of research that a lumpectomy with radiation is equally as effective as removing the whole breast. Not to mention, no implant needed, much less recovery time, and there is no part 2 for the surgery. I could go back to work in August. You know me: I got my hopes up. I hadn't even considered this an option. I anxiously awaited my MRI results.

When I got the call, I knew from her tone of voice that we didn't have good news. Firstly, the chemo had done SUCH a good job of removing the cancer in my lymphnodes, that she is not able to see which one originally had cancer to begin with. Since she is unable to detect the one, all of my lymphnodes will have to be removed. This leave a chance for lymphdema in my future. Not the best case scenario: it means a longer recovery time with much less mobility. I won't be able to reach above my head from anywhere between 4-6 weeks.

Secondly, even though my tumor FELT smaller to the touch, it actually left a "hole" behind. Essentially, it left a hollow tumor in my breast. The inside no longer has cancer inside of it, but the outside of it that was left behind is still cancerous. Due to this, I need the mastectomy. The recovery time is about 4-6 weeks.

At first I was a bit upset about this. I have made sure to never get my hopes up throughout the last few months: if you don't get your hopes up you are never disappointed and you ALWAYS feel prepared for the worst case scenario. In reality, I am getting the surgery I always assumed I would be! So, instead of being upset, I have decided to just arm myself with information and prepare as best I can for this new body of mine!

I met with my plastic surgeon yesterday. I had to have a laugh: I never thought I would be meeting with a plastic surgeon THIS early in my life. Her name is Dr. Zhang and she is young but super smart. I trust her fully and we discussed all my options. There are a few options when you go for breast reconstruction: you can choose to have it done right away (same surgery, you wake up with a new boob), or later on. Regardless when you choose to have it done, it is covered by our healthcare.You can choose to have implants put in, or to my surprise, you can choose to have your own fat from your stomach taken and used to make an "implant". The procedure takes about 9 hours (versus the 1 hour for the saline) and your stomach has to heal as well. This is for people who are really against having the saline implants. I am a lover of makeup and fancy things. I had 20" platinum blonde extensions for most of last year so... implants don't really bother me that much! In fact, I think I'll be happy to have them when I'm 50. Ha.

 Dr. Arnaout applauded me for my good attitude, but kept telling me repeatedly not to underestimate the psychological side effects having a mastectomy can have on your well being. Surprisingly, I don't feel nervous... at all, for this surgery. It's 2 days away and I keep waiting to feel sad at the fact that I am losing my breast but I just don't. I'm pretty excited to have them get rid of it. Technically, after the surgery is over and with the lymphnodes removed, I will be (unofficially) deemed cancer-free. And that will feel better then having a real breast does.

Since this appointment, I have been at the hospital and at various doctors appointments nearly every day preparing for surgery. I go in Wednesday (I wish I could tell you a time, but they only tell you the night before the surgery!), so starting Saturday I decided to take some time for myself. I went for a pedicure and we had a party at our apartment on Saturday night, Sunday I spent time with my best friends walking around Lansdowne, and tomorrow I'm going to see Dirty Dancing at the NAC!

Out of town friends!

Don't ask me how many caesar's I've had this week. 

Sometime tomorrow I plan on stocking my apartment with groceries and buying the comfiest patio chair money can buy. If I have to be in recovery for 4-6 weeks, I will be doing it outdoors in the Spring sun!

Easter!

In other breaking news, I have hair again. Albeit, not much... but it is there! And... it is brown. I have always been a blonde so this is throwing me off a bit. Especially since I made a pact to keep it healthy and refrain from over-dyeing it again. My baby hairs are so soft to the touch, it makes me regret ever bleaching my long (not so) luxurious locks to begin with. My family's new favorite game is to hold up baby pictures of me and say "YOU LOOK THE SAME!".  I've been looking up short pixie haircuts and I'm getting excited! I noticed hair growth almost immediately after my last treatment, but it wasn't until last week that my eyelashes and brows stopped falling out. They're looking pretty sad and patchy but I can see little hairs growing in. Funny enough, my arm hair is finally deciding to go. It's crazy that after a month the chemo is still taking it's toll.

I am also in the middle of looking into massage therapy that specializes in post-chemo recovery. If you have any recommendations, let me know!

   
Hanging out with a couple of my besties.

Normally this would be the time I would throw in something cheesy about how grateful I am for the people in my life, or something about cancer and looking on the bright side. Today I have a different story to tell. Jeff and I had our 6 year anniversary on April 1st (for those of you that don't have me on Facebook: Yes, he asked me out on April Fools, yes he said "APRIL FOOLS" after he asked me out). 

When Jeff found out about my diagnosis, he was the rock. While I was a mess, and my mom was so worried... Jeff went into warrior mode for all of us. He will be embarrassed about me posting this, but he ordered a book called "Breast Cancer Husband" (cute, right?), only to decide he didn't need a book to get us through this. We were going to do it our way. He constantly reassured me that cancer didn't mean I had to stop living my life. We went on living as normally as we can. When we went to the canal and I could only skate for a half hour, he got us Beavertails and helped me skate back. And, while in the last few months I haven't been as active as I usually am, he never once made me feel guilty for sleeping in a little late or for watching one too many episodes of TV. He has looked after me completely: from making every meal, doing my laundry, and always asking me "Doing OK?!". I think that it is engrained in him at this point: I will wake up in the middle of the night to turn on the fan and he subconsciously asks me if I'm okay. He has literally dedicated the last 5 months helping me get better: every day off, every holiday, every evening taking care of me, coming to all of my appointments and making sure I'm comfortable.

He has used humor to get us through the toughest of times (the boob jokes are starting to get a bit old babe), but in those random moments when I just need to have a good cry he always holds me until the moment passes. I was looking back on pictures from when we first met, and looked at myself in the mirror and I am always still shocked at what I see. My eyes are sunken in and I'm constantly sweaty from hot flashes, not to mention the no eyebrows thing, and yet Jeff tells me every day I'm beautiful and he loves me more then he ever has. I think this is a little white lie, but I'll take a compliment when I can get one.

Going through something like this together really shows the strength in your relationship. Whenever I say "I don't want to do this anymore" he always tells me "I know, but you have to do it for me! I need you around!". So - here's to dedicating this year to my health so we can spend the next 6 years together. The next 20, 40, 60 years. It will all be worth it in the end. 

Anyways, I think that's all I've got for now. I'll see you on the other side! (with one less body part and two stitched in drains.. joy!) 

xx

Sam