A Moment of Stillness

It's 7:44am Christmas Eve morning. Milo is curled beside me on the couch, my legs are tucked under me, my laptop precariously balanced on a pillow on my lap and I'm cupping an Earl Grey. I'm closing my eyes and taking a breath and consciously thinking that this breath is one of many that will follow me after my diagnosis of cancer. The more breaths I take, the more distance I make between myself and that word. The more time is spent without that word looming over me and the more breaths in I take, the further that word drifts from my paradigm. I'm turning my back on cancer and walking away; it's there in the distance, and although it may be staring at me, it can only watch my back get smaller as I walk away and move on. I'm stronger than it. I know that now.

Chemo is over. I did it. I went to Princess Margaret last Wednesday and got my last treatment; 6th out of 6. I rang the bell quite rambunctiously, no one minded. By the time treatment was finished, there weren't many people still in the chemo clinic so it was a nice moment to have with the bell and I took in all the significance I needed to for myself, gave it a few swift jerks, and then walked out the doors with Shawn's arms around me. We didn't quite make it out the doors, but as we held each other in the entryway of the clinic and allowed the emotions to take over for a second, I think we both felt the enormity of the weight of one journey coming to an end. A few more days to go and we'd both be feeling a lot better.

(my moment at PMH with the significant bell)

The days following chemo this time seemed to be a bit more difficult, but I think that's just because I'm really needing it to be over now, so it feels a lot worse. I had been very very tired, and today is the first day that I've felt semi-normal. All weekend it was all I could do to hold my head up, but enough of the bitching; that too has passed now and I'm gearing up for a busy Xmas Eve day. First there's the pile of laundry that hasn't been tended to in I'm not gonna say how long, then I must get some food in the house as I've pretty much ravaged all our stock over the past few days on steroids, I still have gifts to wrap, a shirt to buy to wear on Xmas and I have to get ready for my annual tradition of heading to Laura's parents place with my family for some festive cheer tonight.
Tomorrow, Shawn and I will go to different places for Christmas. I'll wake up and load up the car with all the loot for my family, and Milo and I will head to my parent's place while Shawn will head to his mom's to be with his family. I think next year is when we'll finally have to figure out a better plan for Christmas Day, but for the past few years, this has been easiest and I'm very reluctant to change my traditions; at 30 years old, I'm still a little upset that I don't spend the night at my parent's place on Xmas Eve! But now that we're together, we have to accommodate both families. It's just hard as I've always listened to the stories of friends who have to drive around all day on Christmas to see everyone and make sure all families get equal time. That seems to me the exact opposite of a fun relaxing Xmas day, so Shawn and I just head in different directions. Actually, this probably also has to do with our anniversary (or as we say Anniversmus) being on Boxing day, so we have our own tradition the day after the 25th, which makes spending Xmas apart easier.

Christmas was always my favourite day! It was also the one time of year that I'd say Craig and I were a unified team, no matter what age or phase we were going through. We always stayed in the same room on Xmas Eve, watching the movies that we'd rented for the occasion. My favourite tradition is of course my dad reading us Twas the Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve. My Gran gave us a little red book to hang from the tree that had this story, and every year my dad read it to us, even when we were no longer little kids. It was as much for him as us obviously, but I loved it. Before going to bed, my parents would leave our stockings outside the room. When we were very young, we'd fetch them in the morning as soon as our eyes opened and pour over them, but when we were a little older, we'd wait a respectable amount of time after my parents had gone to sleep before going into the hall and bringing them into bed with us and going through all the loot. I love the stocking! It wasn't exactly a stocking for us, it was a 50lb pillowcase filled with really cool stuff. My mum is really good at them and I'm pretty sure she must spend the same amount on our gifts as she does on our stockings as they're always loaded, even though every year she says that she's not doing a big stocking this year. She always does! I'm thinking this must sound as if we were spoiled, which I guess in a way we were, but it was different at Christmas. Craig and I never wanted for anything growing up, truly, but we weren't simply handed everything either. We were taught the value of a dollar and learned how to allocate funds through a weekly allowance. I got a job the second I was legally able to as money wasn't handed to me by my parents, as was the case with a lot of my friends. But at Christmas, this went out the window and it was all about getting spoiled and getting pretty much everything we'd asked for. I remember getting the Nintendo the same Christmas we got the ping pong table about 20 years ago and how that at the time was the best day of my life. I remember getting my dollhouse about 25 years ago and how my dad told me that he and Santa had stayed up all night making it for me, and how special I thought I was that Santa spent the whole night hanging out at my place just to finish my dollhouse (that dollhouse was fantastic, my dad even carpeted it and wallpapered!) I remember the soot boot print that faced toward the chimney that fascinated Craig, even though by then I knew whose boot it was. I remember where I was when I found out Santa wasn't real. My mum and I were in Scarborough Towne Centre, and it was Easter time. We were on the top level looking over at the Easter Bunny display, and I said to my mum, "I don't think the Easter Bunny's real, is he?" My mum admitted that no, he wasn't real, but we had to keep that a secret as other kids still believed in him. I remember then saying, so Santa I guess isn't real either then. And my mum said no, he wasn't either. I was actually shocked by this. I think I was testing the waters on that one as I really still did believe he was real, but finding that out was memorable. I think I felt a little special though too as most kids my age still did believe in him, and my mum had told me the truth, which must've made me feel really grown up. I remember being very young and playing outside of our old house, when Craig started crying and yelling and he ran to me to tell me that a girl from the neighbourhood told him Santa wasn't real and he was stupid if he thought he was. I chased that girl all the way back to her complex. I was protective of the fact that Craig still believed in Santa and I wasn't about to let a little brat ruin my little brothers favourite holiday.
These years, Christmas morning is spent in my parents living room, where my dad will throw on some Christmas music, grab some garbage bags for all the wrapping, we'll sit around and all open our stockings together, I'll laugh and smirk at how Craig still looks like he's sleeping while I'm going a million miles a minute, my mum will make croissants or something like that and make us fancy coffees, and we'll start to unwrap our gifts. I'll be on Milo patrol this year, but he'll be okay as he'll have Clio to harass. Then we'll clean up, sit around for a while and then get ready to host dinner for friends.
That's my Christmas. This year is also about reflecting on what is important, what the New Year will bring, and the excitement of knowing that there is a whole new year waiting to be tackled, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that next year is a fabulous one. As much as everything has happened this past year, I still don't look at it as a bad year. I've learned some extremely important lessons about myself and others, and on how to value what you have instead of constantly wishing for what you don't. Life passes you by as you're wishing for something big, and I'm going to try and put the opposite into practice.

I hope you all have a safe and Merry Christmas with your loved ones and I hope Santa is as good to you as he's always been to me. :D

It's my Christmas Morning - the LAST day of chemo

Okay, no more sleeps; today is the day. It's 8am and I've surprisingly only been up for an hour. I thought for sure this morning would be a 4amer for me. I haven't been sleeping well at all. Shawn and I have been blaming this on our mattress to each other, but I think we've both got a lot on our minds right now. It's a very important day for me today and with my 1:30pm appointment, I'm only able to hope that I can get through it without an emotional breakdown. I figure it's gonna happen today finally. After all, it's bell-ringing day. Don't think I've forgotten about that and my goodness I'm already welling up so a quick change of topics for a few paragraphs is in order. I simply can't allow the dam to break before this afternoon as I don't think I'll be able to build it back up in time to face my day, sorry.
My first stop this morning is going to be to Sick Kid's Hospital to drop off the toys and sewing machines. I'm meeting the donation coordinator today at 11:30am. I know it's probably getting redundant of me to say, but I'm so very proud of everyone around me that has contributed to this drive! Even after the pic I posted showing all the toys, I've collected more and more from people. Some of you reading this blog actually contacted me and I met with you and picked up toys. This whole giving thing is unfortunately a relatively new thing for me, and I really can't get over how gratifying it has been for not only me, but my circle of friends and family. I was having a conversation with my mum over tea at her place last week, and she was telling me about her friends who contributed once they heard about it or read about it and she's showing me the bags and bags of toys she had collected, not to mention the 4 brand new sewing machines piled high in her living room, and I was telling her that I went to Wal Mart and was shopping for my friend Michelle's daughter but couldn't resist picking up more cool stuff for the toy drive. She pointed out to me that I shouldn't be spending so much of my money on toys etc., as don't forget, these kids aren't necessarily disadvantaged; they probably do have families who most likely can afford to make their Christmas extra special with gifts and toys etc., but their families can't do anything about their kids being in the hospital -and neither could I. This really got me thinking. They do have many people and organizations at this time of year donating to them. They even have a Donation Coordinator on staff. I think this is amazing and a very good thing, don't get me wrong, but it really opened my eyes to look around at the big picture. I have a whole room stacked with amazing presents to give to children. I started this out wanting to fill a bag to drop off at Sick Kid's purely to feel good about that, but this has certainly taken on a life of it's own and I now have a chance to help out some kids that aren't going to have any presents that morning. Once I got this thought in my head it was hard to let it go. I realized that I could help out Sick Kid's in a huge way with the 4 sewing machines as well as 4 garbage bags full of toys. But I actually had another 7 bags of toys on top of this! I know that I said this was a toy drive for Sick Kid's, but I decided to help out a local government-assisted youth centre as well. If anyone feels cheated that I said this was a Sick Kids toy drive but am spreading that around now, please see me for a full refund, but of course I know that no one would have any issue with this. I'm simply trying to make a good thing go a bit further, and I've done that and am very proud of myself for doing so.
As I've mentioned time and again, I live and grew up in an area of Scarborough that would be considered "disadvantaged." My family certainly didn't grow up this way, but it is evident in my community; the violence and poverty compounding every year. I started surfing and found exactly what I was looking for, which was a non-profit organization up the street from me that housed a youth centre for kids to go to after school and stay out of trouble and off the streets and they also offered an early child care centre. This isn't the type of place that is going to have access to a lot of donations I assume, and these kids certainly need it. They do! They're not all going to have a mountain of gifts under their trees this year and I guess that most don't have trees to pile gifts under. They have one at the centre to remind them about the holidays. I got to work sorting out all the toys in my 2 spare rooms upstairs, trying to figure out which ones would be better suited to the hospital and which ones would be better suited to individual kids and I bagged them up. Something else happened too. I was talking to Laura as I always run any conscience-related issues by her first before I act on them, and she said no one would mind that I was helping out more than just Sick Kid's with the toy drive; she pointed out that I wasn't expecting to receive what I did and it was a good thing I was doing, certainly not one to stress and second-guess myself over! I was now fully convinced so we started talking about different ideas on where we could help out. She mentioned that her mom had talked about some families at their church that were new to the country and wouldn't be able to afford gifts etc., this year. I asked her to get information on a family that we could help and the ages and sex of the kids. She got back to me quickly with a family that had just moved here from Nigeria and wouldn't be celebrating Christmas due to not having the money to do so. The kids were 8, 5 & 2 with a single mother. We now had our family. I told my mum that she had inspired me to think outside of the box with how I was allocating the generosity and she thought it was wonderful. And my mum being...well... my mum, she needed to know if this family had an oven and kitchen supplies as she wanted to supply them with a dinner and needed to know if turkey or ham would be more suitable. *sigh* I love my mum! So, now, we have Sick Kid's benefiting with what they told me they really needed, which were DVD players and sewing machines (the DVD players are currently being gathered from another friend who is doing a drive through his work for this after we spoke and I told him about the DVD player idea) we have them started with sewing machines, and 4 huge garbage bags stacked with group-oriented activities that can be used by a few or many people in the wards or their rooms (think bowling sets, nerf basketballs/footballs, walkie talkies, mega blocks, lego sets, craft sets, cards, books, crayons, markers, board games, etc.) as well as the individual crafts and toys that will occupy them and pass the time while they are isolated in their rooms. Then we have 5 garbage bags going to the youth centre (think stuffed animals, jewellery sets, barbies, action figurines, books etc.,) Then we have 2 big garbage bags going to this family of 3 kids with toys picked specifically for their age group. I tried to be cognizant of the fact that they are new to the country and may not yet be proficient in English, so I tried to be sure I picked gifts that didn't have crazy instructions or a lot of talking as I want to be sure they have fun with their toys as opposed to being confused by them.
Last night at about 5pm, I spoke with a volunteer at the youth centre and told her I had some stuff to donate. You should have heard her voice! It was like I was telling her she'd won a prize, and that reaction alone was worth it to me. I showed up there about 10 minutes later and brought in two of the bags with me. As I was walking down towards the stairs, I could hear rambunctious teenagers shouting at each other etc., outside the doors I was heading for. I felt a bit intimidated and I hate that I feel that way, but last Christmas Eve, Shawn and I got followed home by thugs when we were out walking Milo and although nothing happened due to I presume a few factors, I've not been able to easily forget that almost encounter and have felt nerves tingle around a group of youth ever since which I never thought would happen to me but has. Anyway, silence ensues as I walk through the group with my big load. I find the office and the volunteer from earlier. All the people in that office turn and openly stare at me. One young girl asks me if those bags are for them and I say they may be, and now I have the attention of everyone in there; first presumably as I'm a youngish white bald chick walking around confused carrying two big garbage bags and then because they now know there are presents in the bags. Denise, the volunteer I was coming to meet, looks at the bags and exclaims that she can't believe I've done this! Is this from a company? No, I tell her, I just have an amazingly generous network surrounding me. Why did I think of this centre? I told her how I grew up in the area and initially set out to do the drive for Sick Kid's but was over-whelmed with how much stuff I had received that I wanted to spread it out a bit more and figured that this centre would certainly benefit from it. Turns out, she also grew up in the area and had the same reasoning behind volunteering, and I think she now runs the youth centre part of the building. Her and I, along with one of the other volunteers went to the same middle-school but they are a few years older, but doesn't that a little bit prove what I was saying about infusing positivity back into your own community? Paying it forward in this sense could be what stops these youth from going down a destructive path; one that around here is more than ready to welcome them if they choose it. I think more options on how to be productive with your time and energy are needed and when they go to that centre one of these days in the future and are given a gift for Xmas, they will have a good memory and a good experience from that. I helped create that and so did a lot of you. It feels really really good, doesn't it? I'm sure a lot of you already know exactly the feelings that I write about here, but they're new to me and have really changed and affected me in a wonderful (and well-overdue!) way.
Denise starts to thank me when I point out that I still have more in the car. "More?" she states, again cementing for me that I'm doing the right thing here. As I'm walking through the group again to get to my car, one of the young guys comes to the door to hold it for me, saying "G'through" with a nod of his head. I say thank you as I pass him and smile to myself at this bold display of manners in front of his peers. I like to see that. Another wonders aloud what I'm doing there, but it wasn't in a rude way at all, more quizzical and possible excitement I'm presuming at the wondering of what's in the garbage bags as I do probably look like a fish out of water here to them. I go and get another 2 bags and one of the boys offers to help me with one, but I tell him thanks, I got it, so he rushes to get the door for me, just as he saw his friend do 2 minutes earlier; already paying it forward. I'm very happy right now. This place is doing a good thing by offering a supervised program for kids to go to with activities to keep them out of trouble. A bored youth can be a destructive one, so if they associate this place with happy thoughts and experiences, then I can only hope and predict that they will contribute back to society in a positive way somehow. I don't care how this sounds, it's a good way to think and will propel me to continue to help out in the future. Next year this will all be thought out much better. I will start my fund-raising efforts and collect toys and store them all throughout the year and maybe do an event at the centre with Santa and elves and food and presents and activities. Why not? It's something to look forward to not only for me, but for the kids there too.

Okay, awesome, that story just killed 2 hours for me and now I've only got a few hours left before I'm on the road heading to the last chemo-and the bell. Don't worry, I'm bringin' my camera and I'll manage to write about that experience after it's occurred. :)

Oh, and a very Happy Birthday to Michelle J today! Have an amazing and relaxing birthday! *mwah*

Happy Birthday to me!

Saturday was my 30th birthday and I think it may go down as one of the best! My friend Kelly stayed over on the Friday night as her, myself, Shawn and Craig played an aggressive and competitive game of the new e-bank Monopoly (thanks Craig for the early bday gift!) Shawn made us individual omelettes in the morning, served with Mimosa's -or Morning Glory's as they're referred to in some parts- (champagne and oj to the other parts). Yum! We went and took Milo to a friends place who also happens to be a dog trainer as she had agreed to take him overnight so we could have a party at our house without worrying about the dog eating all the food off the table and bugging people, etc. The rest of the day was spent shopping for the nights festivities, and then I had to get home to get ready for dinner with Laura and Julie downtown. We went to Canyon Creek on Front St., and then Laura and I were heading to the Leaf game. Okay, our seats were ridiculous! Laura scored amazing seats (4 rows from ice!) We were so close, check it out!

I had Carlton the bear, who is the Leafs mascott, come over to my seat and wish me a Happy Birthday and give me a big hug as well as a gift, which was awesome although really embarassing as everyone was staring, my name was up on the big screen and another friend of mine, Michelle -the one who designed the 'Kelly's Journey' pendants- had one of her friends who works at the Air Canada Centre bring us over a nice beverage, not gonna say what kind ;) as well as ice cream. I felt like a celebrity by the time the game was done. And no, they didn't win; they were beat by Boston 2-1, blech! But whatever, we had such an amazing time!

Kelly picked us up as she was at Carm's fundraiser (for her climb up Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa with breast cancer survivor's). This is the first year that Carm and I decided to do separate birthday functions in years. The reasoning was that Carm wanted to do a big event for breast cancer as well as to raise funds for the climb she is doing that was inspired by survivors she met. This is now one of her dreams and through this fundraiser, will be a reality in the new year for Carm. I'm really proud of her for wanting to do this climb and I know she'll do it as Carm always does what she sets her mind to if it's in her control and this goal will be no different. Unfortunately, the only day she could get for the venue she wanted fell on my birthday, which is the day after hers. She asked me if this was okay, and at first I said of course it was! I didn't mind that it fell on my bday and I encouraged her to book the venue, which she did. Upon reflection, I realized that I may have a little bit of an issue with it. Not that it would influence anything, but I'll admit that I was kinda a little bit not wanting her birthday event to fall on my birthday. It was something I felt I obviously needed to attend, but now my 30th would be spent at an event for Carm. Would I be inviting my friends to this? As close as Carm and I are, we still have many different circles of friends, so I was starting to stress as I didn't think I'd want to invite my friends to my birthday at Carms function. Not just that, but Carm was having a formal function, so I'd have to wear a dress. Not something I want to do bald and breastless, know what I mean? And I only wear my wig with a hat; how classy would that look? Naturally, I talked to Carm about it and she completely agreed with me and understood entirely. She admitted that she hadn't even expected me to go to it in the first place! First when she said that, I was kind of hurt as of course I'd be at her function, but I understood what she meant, and she thought it would be too much for me and it was my birthday and she didn't want to overshadow it with hers. Besides, her and I did our Vegas trip in the summer and that was really for the two of us to celebrate our 30th year together and that was very memorable for me and I wouldn't have wanted to do that trip with anyone else, so we did already have our time. This event was for her and mine would be for me, so we agreed that this year we'd do our own thing. Anyway, Kelly picked Laura & I up from the game and we headed to my place for the party. I called Shawn and he said there were already a bunch of people at the house and by the time we arrived, the party was in full swing! I had such a good time! Most of my close friends made it and for me, I tend to keep a lot of my circles separate so it was nice to have a lot of my friends in the same room and I really appreciated that most of my friends put in the effort to attend. There ended up being just over 30 people so it was a good sized party for my 30th birthday. I made a rum punch and sipped that most of the night, but I did indulge in a jello shooter as well as a toast with Alize. There was a chocolate fountain with fruit that Kelly brought and she also made the Skor dip at my request. Here's the recipe, grab a pen! The bottom layer is cream cheese mixed with brown sugar, topped with a layer of caramel, topped with a layer of crumbled up skor bar pieces then you use granny smith apples to dip in it. Mmmmm! I made my brie dip, but it never made it out, which worked as Shawn and I enjoyed it the next day. That is really really good too! If you like brie, try this one: a wheel of brie, doesn't matter what size. Get some sundried tomatoes packed in oil, chop them up and put in a bowl and finely chop or mash about 3-5 cloves of garlic, depending on size of wheel and how much garlic you like. I enjoy a lot so that may be too heavy for some. Anyway, you mix tomatoes and garlic in a bowl, then simply scoop on the top of the brie wheel, put in oven for about 10-15 minutes at 300 and you have an amazing appetizer served with fresh bread and/or crisp crackers. Delicious and it looks like it took a long time to prepare when in reality it takes about 4 minutes.

I must also say here how generous my friends were with the Toy Drive! Check out the loot! This is just from mentioning to friends that I'd like to receive toys for kids for my birthday instead of gifts.

This is for the Sick Kid's Toy Drive I'm doing and look at how many kids are going to receive presents just based on my friends generosity! Simply amazing and I'm humbled by the generosity others showed.

Not pictured are the 4 brand new sewing machines my parents bought for Sick Kids. When I asked my contact from the hospital what they really needed, she shared with me a new initiative that I must now share with you. The mothers of the kids at the hospital are always asking and inquiring about ways they can give back to the hospital as these mothers and fathers and families are there hours and days and weeks on end with their children, and needed something to do with their time. So someone came up with the idea to equip every ward with a sewing machine so that the mothers can make personalized pillowcases for all the patients so that these young patients feel at home in their hospital beds and are able to have something personal just for them. How amazingly touching is that? I still can't get that story out without cracking. As soon as I told my mum, she was all over the idea (remember that she was one of the moms with a hospitalized son years ago) and soon informed me that she had picked up 4 sewing machines; 2 from me and 2 from my parents. Now we have 4 new sewing machines for this initiative. The first one will go to the cancer ward, and that's the only request I'm going to make about where the toys, etc., get distributed. Thanks to all of you on behalf of the kids receiving the toys! I even heard others say they were stealing the idea for their own birthdays, which I thought was great and please feel free to steal this idea from me for the charity of your choice too. I had such a great time this weekend and spent it grinning from ear to ear. Thanks to all my friends for making it extra special and especially to Shawn, Carol, Craig and Kelly for all the preparation you put into making my birthday a truly special occasion. Thanks and I love you. To my mum, thanks to you for contributing the sewing machines and Happy Birthday as today I'm writing about my birthday, but it's actually yours! :)

The Toronto Sun Project

I am I guess a bit of a nerd. I've done incredibly nerdy things in my life. Maybe it's not nerdy though; it's gotta be some type of anal-retentive disorder. Like the time in 2004 that I 'worked for' the Toronto Sun. I used to get so incredibly irate about the spelling errors in the Toronto Sun newspaper; it would drive me insane when I found them. I mean, c'mon! This is a published, widely distributed paper! How could they allow sooo many errors to make it to print? How could "We're are going to have a summer shower" actually be one of their headlines??!!! How does one mistake 'growing up in Toronto' for 'grown up in Toronto'? How does an editor allow the first published paper of that year, on the 2nd page to have a heading that spells 'Torontonians' as 'Toronontians'? How does that happen and people still keep their jobs? Is that not a grave disrespect to me as an intelligent reader and a fellow Toronontian? I just didn't get it and no one could answer me! I ended up mentioning this to Andy Donato who is an artist and works for the Sun as a cartoonist (I know Andy and his wife through a members-only golf club that I used to be a Supervisor at and they were members of and they are both very sweet and genuine people who I would occasionally dog-sit for while they went on vacations). I told him one day about this and he told me to do something about it! That was all the motivation I needed. There was no point in doing my usual writing of a strongly-worded letter to the Editor-in-Chief. This was a much bigger issue for me than bad service. I felt it was a disservice to my country; the Sun is a national newspaper so I'm sure that it isn't just the Toronto version that is so lax with copy-reading and editing. I felt that I was not alone in my views on this subject and I knew that my fellow countrymen also must have this disdain for the lack of respect we as readers were being shown! I guarantee that this is a main reason people no longer read the Sun, other than political reasons. I love the Sun but find this point impossible to bypass. I can't love it with the errors, I tried but it was too big a crime for me to simply overlook. I had to show them how bad it truly was if I was going to make any bit of difference as just pointing it out to them I was certain wouldn't work. This must have been done already I reasoned. So what could I do? Well, I could really show them exactly how bad it was, and that's exactly what I did. For one month -December 11, 2003 - January 11, 2004- I read and edited every single word of that paper, front to back excluding advertisements. Just headlines and articles. Everything the paper had sole control over. It took me forever to do this as I of course had a full time job and a brimming social life at this point. But it became a very important part of my day to saunter to the newspaper box at the corner, grab the paper and catalog them by dates, and pore over them with my highlighters and pens. Every time I found an error, I'd circle it, then post it note the page to tag it for later. I did this at night, every lunch hour at work, all the time I could spare went into this. When I have a point to prove, good luck getting my focus redirected. Once I had all the papers stacked up in my room with all the errors tagged in all 30+ papers, I went to work. Like a kidnapper with a ransom note, I sat on the floor of my living room and with my exacto knife I cut out right from the paper the errors, had a notebook to keep track of what date/page/article/writer each error came from, and then filed those little cut outs from the newspaper chronologically. I'd do this while watching Soccer Saturdays with my dad. That way I could bounce my comments off of him and show him all the words that got past the staff. Once this incredibly tedious task was done, I then went about gluing each of those little pieces of paper to its corresponding page that I had drafted on the computer. The page would have the date of the paper, then each error from that paper would be listed by page, then writer, then heading, then how it read in the paper, and then how it SHOULD have read in the paper. And then I glued the actual error right there next to it. That is pretty anal, isn't it? Not only did I do this project in the first place but I wanted there to be absolutely no way to dispute my claims. So this tedious task of cutting out these micro pieces of newspapers and gluing them all so they lined up with the corresponding identification and correction had to be done as it was the only way to show that they didn't need to take my word for it. Here they are right from your paper. How many spelling errors do you think is acceptable? What would you guess?

For one month, a newspaper that boasts a readership of 2.15 MILLION readers a WEEK allowed 217 spelling errors into their paper. 217 spelling errors/major grammar errors were found by me through just one readthrough in only one month of publishing. I'm sure there were more I didn't catch on my skim-through. Is someone not doing their job? Or with that type of viewship, maybe you can afford another helper on the payroll. It's important, isn't it? I mean, they're a newspaper for goodness sakes, surely this will be a big deal?! I had my 'project' bound at Staples and was now ready to send to the paper. I first brought a copy to Andy, who looked at me like I was a little crazy but also caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes at it. I gave him a copy and also sent a few copies to the Editor-in-Chief. And for me, that was that. I felt a sense of relief that I had at least attempted to do something not only for my fellow readers but also for this paper. They obviously had no idea that they were churning out such a sub-par product, and with a lot of competition for readship, I figured I was helping them out too. I also had wanted to be an editor and I found through doing that project that I did in fact enjoy it. It's not like you can walk on to a decent editing job with no schooling or prior work experience, so this was my way of trying it out and if I wasn't already way past the point of college, I may have considered going to school for it.
The reason I'm writing about this is our friend Tido was over last night and we were talking about it again as he was with me at my apartment years ago when I got the call. We were sitting around listening to hip hop and my phone rang, which I answered without turning down the music. It was the Editor-in-Chief of the Toronto Sun calling. I got Tido to quickly turn down the music and I stood up and started walking around. He informed me that he had just seen my project (by this point a few months had past since I'd sent it to him) and was calling me to inform me that him and his staff were very embarassed by what I had done, and were also very impressed by it. Yes, they did in fact employ full time editors, but these had simply been missed. He also wanted to know what I was hoping to get out of the experience. That took me by surprise as I wasn't prepared at that moment for this conversation, but I said a better quality paper and a full time editing job. He laughed and asked me what school I went to. I told him I wasn't a student. No, this wasn't a school project, this was me just doing this in my spare time. He offered me an internship. They don't offer internships to people who aren't University students majoring in Journalism, but he offered me one right then. I of course couldn't take it; it's full time with little to no pay. I work full time and can't simply give that up to go and work at the Sun without getting paid to, but the point is for me that it was offered. That was the moment my hard work paid off.
Now, the Sun still has a lot of errors, I didn't unfortunately change the paper the way I wanted to, but at least I can be assured that heads were most likely ripped off because a girl in her spare time could do what these people get paid not to do, and that there were some embarassed editing staff walking around that day. Good enough for me.


Now I wrote about that hoping that the backlash is not every single error on here pointed out to me. Please, I know there are spelling mistakes all over this blog; when I catch them I do fix them, but some get by me and I am not super-anal on this site as it's just a casual blog. I am going to be printing out a lot of this to send to my Grandma in Scotland over the next week so she can be apprised of all that is going on too, and I'll edit that with a fine-toothed comb, but I haven't been regiment about this in this forum as I'm not thinking this is being read by 2.15 million people every week like the Toronto Sun. If I was getting paid for it, it'd be a different story, believe me!

I'm not nerdy....I'm...wordy

I'm a week out from my last treatment and I'm almost back to "normal" now. This 2nd cycle has had it's differences from it's predecessor. It takes a few days for the annoying symptoms as opposed to getting over them right away. The day after chemo, which is a Thursday, I've been okay, a little loopy from the meds, but my body feels pretty normal. Then for the Friday, my mood darkens a little, but I'm still able to go for a walk or move around at an acceptable level. Over the weekend is when I find the difficulty. I get so sore from the meds. My body feels bruised and incredibly achy. I can't have people touching me during this time; even a hug hurts. But let me set the record straight on that; it only lasts for a few days, this doesn't mean you can't hug or touch me at all! I go to hug some people and they back away saying I don't want to hurt you! I know that a lot of my friends are reading the blog and taking every single thing I say on here to heart, but if I'm going to hug you, then it's not gonna hurt me, hope that makes sense. As for taking everything I say to heart, please understand that at the time you're reading an entry, I may not be feeling the same way I was when I wrote it. This has made for interesting conversations with people in my circle over the last few months. Some get very angered by something I've written and want to talk about it, but by then I'm over it. An example would be the mountain man at work who commented on my weight. I still get calls from friends about this. I have to laugh about it. I tell my friends that they can't now get angry about it; it happened months ago and they're just now reading it. I joke to them that maybe they should follow my blog a little closer to real time then reading an entry a month later and then wanting to react to it. I am a very emotional person, and I travel the highs and lows of the roller coaster very quickly, but then I'm over it. So if you're reading something I've written before, it means that's how I was feeling right then, not necessarily when we talk. A notable point about me writing about all my friends etc., is that the people that are closest to me (outside of family and some select friends) don't really read this blog. It's more acquaintances or people I don't even know that have given me the most feedback about my writing, isn't that strange? I started this off with the reasoning that the people close to me would get all the dirt through this channel, but that hasn't been the case. After I posted for the first time, one of my friends called me and said "Omigod! Your blog is my new facebook; I've already read it all!" I laughed as I knew there was no way this particular friend had the attention span to have read it all the way through by that point, and I was right. She thought that there were only 4 entries as she thought that every month had one entry. We figured out her mistake one night over wine when another friend and I were talking about something I had said on here, and she had no idea what we were talking about. We were bugging her to just admit she couldn't read, but then figured out she could in fact read, just couldn't figure out her keyboard. (Love you Julie! :D)
I am in no way admonishing my friends for not pouring over this blog. I totally get it. My closest friends already know everything you are now taking the time to learn about me. They don't find the blog that intriguing as it's extremely time-consuming to read I'm sure, but also, they talk to me on a regular and aren't really surprised or shocked by anything they'll find here, or the manner in which I relay the stories. Most also don't want to read the detail about my cancer. It's easy to filter to the certain friends when I speak with them as I know them well too, and know what they'll want to hear and what they won't. On these pages, there are no filters and some don't want to know what's on the next page. I absolutely get and respect that. However, don't make the mistake of telling me you've read all my blog as you should know me well enough to know I'll test you on that without you even knowing I've done so just to prove my point to myself. I get a lot of internal kicks that way. Okay, now I have a forum for this, I have to address that point since I'm on it. Does everyone do that? I have little games I play with myself all the time for no other amusement than an internal chuckle. Everyone does this, right? Like what I just said about testing my friends. Then you lay the trap that they fall in to, unbeknownst to them, and then you chuckle about your own cleverness to yourself? Is it just me? The key to this game I've learned is never to share your findings as then you could be proven wrong, and since it's an internal game, it's better to keep it that way and have yourself win every time. Here's another fun one that I'll share with all of you devoted blog-readers. If you've related at all to my personality, this'll be a fun game for you. Basically, if you think this game is incredibly entertaining and you use it in your life, then chances are you do understand my personality and have laughed at most of the jokes and deadpan humour through reading these entries. If not, then you probably haven't enjoyed reading my words and think I'm angry and aggressive and take most of what I say as literal. That's okay too, but you may not understand how anyone could think this game is fun. So those of you should simply just be cognizant of someone using a word you've just used in a sentence right after you've used it, just to see if you find that happens a lot now that I've pointed it out to you. The rest of you who wanna play, here it is. This was shared with me years ago by an old friend and I have previously been very selective on who I choose to share this with but the people I have shared it with have reported back that it works and they love it! It's called worddrop. Think of a big funny word, use it in a sentence, then wait for the person you've said it to to use it back to you. Sounds stupid, right? It's not. It's amazing how this works and even more amazing that it's pretty much guaranteed once you've fine-tuned your ability to drop big words in a sentence and be sure they know the meaning of the word to be able to use it back to you. It does take practice. You may not drop the word correctly for the other party to pick it up, so try some variations and see what works for you. Start off with a certain simple phrase. Like, how was your workday? Oh, I was just "pluggin' away." It should work that the person you said it to will use it back within a certain amount of time. When you hang up from that conversation, you may hear "Ya, gotta go plug away at the dishes," or something to that effect. I started by sharing this with my brother I think. It worked for him too. I didn't really want to share it with Shawn as I thought I preferred catching him doing it and laughing to myself, but I much more enjoy our current game of trapping friends into it, or what is now more difficult, each other. But when we do catch each other we kill ourselves laughing and it's big points to get one over on the other with this game. We both don't like to be so easily manipulated but it works! With each other though, at this point we've up the stakes. We use words like conducive, copacetic, lackadaisical, etc. The words that don't come up in normal conversation and are more dramatic, yet recognizable when reused. There is no way of saying 'I always say that!' with those types of words, which gives the winner even more bragging rights and has the loser thinking "I'm so sure I just used hyperbole in a sentence!" This must seem so ridiculous to some people, but it is truly a fun conversation starter and you can play this by yourself. No one ever has to know what you're doing unless you share it.
Look, I enjoy my own company, and it's because of things like this that keep me entertained internally. :D

Paying it Forward is good for the soul...

Toy Drive for Sick Kids Hospital!!!

My 30th birthday is fast approaching! In 2 more weeks I’ll have hit that milestone! If I look at this last decade, I’ve changed immensely as a person. Where was I on my 20th birthday? I can’t even remember. Is that old age or chemo brain I wonder, lol?!

I remember turning 25 like it was the most devastating experience I would ever encounter. All through my teenage years and my early 20s, it was a big deal for me to reach a quarter of a century. That seemed so ancient! The day I turned 25 my family was vacationing in Panama. My dad took us there for my mum’s 50th birthday. His birthday is the day before mine and my mum’s is 4 days after mine, so it was a week of birthdays in my family. Actually, December 7th marks the start of a crazy workout for my credit card. We have my dad’s bday, then mine, then my mum’s, then Christmas. Boxing day is mine and Shawn’s anniversary, then we have New Years to fund, then a week later is both Shawn’s AND his mom’s birthday on the same day. Whew! Never mind me, how about my poor brother’s bank account? Craig’s birthday is literally at the very opposite end of the calendar, June 13th. Friday June 13th. I bug my brother about his birthday being so far away from ours all the time. It fits with all the other areas I rib him about, such as having black hair when all of us have light hair (my mum did have jet black hair in her youth though, a rationale I kept from my brother when he was younger and unable to use this point back at me, and I have (oops, had) light hair by way of a bottle, but semantics don’t enter my side of this argument obviously. We also have never found any of his baby stuff, like a baby book or cards about his arrival. They weren’t with the box of all my baby stuff that we found years ago in our basement, which meant he must’ve been dropped on my family’s doorstep I explained gently to him. I was horrible to my brother growing up. It’s a wonder he’s the well-adjusted young man he is today, truly. The psychological damage I inflicted during his childhood was hard to endure I assume. Can you imagine having me as an older sister? Today, sure, I’m a cool older sis, but when I was younger? I couldn’t stand the sight of my brother! Even when I was bored at home, I’d almost always choose my own company over Craig’s. When we did play together we always fought and never made it to the end of any game without him in tears or me storming off. I found our 2½ year age gap a huge obstacle in my youth. I think the worst part about this is Craig truly liked me I think. He actually wanted to hang out with me, and I always brushed him away. When he was really young, I’d sometimes wake up to find him standing at the entrance to my door during the night. I'd ask him what the hell he was doing, and he’d reply meekly that he was waiting for me to wake up to ask if he could sleep with me as he had a bad dream. I wasn’t always a horrible sister. I did sometimes allow the nightmare-free zone of the other side of the bed to comfort him. Sometimes I didn’t. On those mornings, I’d wake up to find him sleeping on my floor! I know, I know. That wasn’t even the worst of my torture, trust me; not even close. Before I get hate mail though, please understand that we have a wonderful relationship now. It just took twenty years! It was when we travelled to Scotland together when I was 20 and Craig was a few months shy of 18, and that trip was the beginning of the amazing connection we now have. Craig and I are extremely close and have been ever since then. We’ve worked together; hung out together as friends, travelled together and just genuinely enjoy each others company. I’m sure that has to do with missing out on each others company when we were younger. I don’t regret our early relationship as it’s laid the foundation for who we are as people today, and we’re both pretty awesome individuals, so no regrets, right?

The whole point of that rant was to talk about Sick Kid’s hospital. I’ve made mention to this before, but Craig spent time in their care when he was a young boy, around 5 years old if memory serves me. They took excellent care of Craig and fixed him right up. This is the hospital that I’ve always held in the highest regard because they nursed my brother back to health. I remember visiting him there and I remember how friendly the staff was to him as well as me. I mostly remember being so sad to see him there though, and all the other kids that were in there too. The hardest part was always leaving him overnight. He was so upset to not have us with him and I remember the elevator rides with my parents afterwards being especially difficult. Those memories never leave you. Those memories are what inspired me to initiate a toy drive for Sick Kids Hospital this Christmas. I can only imagine how difficult not spending Christmas morning in my parents house around their tree with my family would be and I’m (almost) 30! How about those kids that are going to wake up in a hospital bed on Christmas morning? I want to contribute somehow, so I figured what better way than to do a toy drive? I’ve started with swapping all birthday gifts from friends and family with toys for kids. I’ve requested that no one buy me gifts this year; I’d like to please receive gifts for kids of any age. They don’t have to be expensive, just fun! The dollar store has great gifts for kids, so even if you don’t have a lot of money, you can still contribute. $5 could buy 4 colouring books AND a pack of crayons! I’m having all the people close to me drop these off at my house before December 14th. I’ve also started a bit of a snow ball situation as now my friends are asking if they can do a toy drive at their workplaces and drop those toys off too for me to deliver. Good thinking so I’ve asked that my work do something similar and I’m going to go there to pick them all up too. I’m writing about this as I want all of you to also have a chance to contribute. Helping out others makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Cancer gave me the kick in the ass I needed to realize this fact. I wasn’t a big “donation-giver” before; I didn’t really ever go out of my way to take any fund-raising initiatives. I sometimes would give to my friend’s causes, but not always. It took me getting cancer to realize just how important this type of generosity is not only to those on the receiving end, but to the human spirit. If you want to do something truly selfish, help someone else out as it feels really good. So far, cancer has made me a better person on the inside, and I think if I can take anything positive away from this experience, that should definitely top the list of benefits. I actually care more. Kudos to all of you who care without having tragedy affect you personally! I wasn’t that person before but I am now and that’s really what matters. I think that type of thinking also comes with maturity. I do know that it’s never too late to start! If you’d like to contribute to this toy drive, please email me at kellysjourney@yahoo.ca and I’ll let you know how where to send the toys to. Or if you’re in the area of Scarborough, me or my cohort’s could meet up to pick up toys or can direct you to where to send them. Some of my extended family is sending us cheques to go and buy toys ourselves, and we’ll be making some toy-shopping trips around town in the next few weeks. Toys do have to be new and in their original packaging as they're going to a hospital. The point is, not only are you doing something special for children and their families at the time of year when no child should be doing anything but smiling and looking forward to Santa’s arrival, but you’re also doing something so good for yourself. It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe this, it’s true, I can attest to it, but that is your choice to make. For me personally, it makes me smile to do something for another now. I’ve realized the value of smiling so I’ll do more and more to make myself smile instead of scowl. I’ve frowned enough for one lifetime I think. There’s simply no more room for it in my highly-valued life.

For ideas on toys, you can visit this link:

http://www.sickkids.ca/EntertainmentandDonations/section.asp?s=Donations&sID=8878&ss=Beneficial+Toys+and+Items+for+the+Hospital+Environment&ssID=17871

Thanks! : D

It looks like my future will involve petting tigers, riding elephants and smelling ratchaphrueks after all!!!

I've mentioned this before, but it's now very important for me to keep setting long term goals. I've learned more about my prognosis lately and I'm now able to even type that as I've been a little upset about it this week, hence the absence of posts. I know that a lot of people who read this think that I'm so strong to be able to deal with this etc., but I do get very upset about the fact that I have a 48% chance of seeing 40. I can also look at it in a positive light (no one knows that they'll see tomorrow, let alone 10 years away), but I have my days when this simply devastates me, don't think otherwise. The other day I was on the phone with a friend talking about plans for my upcoming birthday and she said "I'll bet you're not dying to turn 30, right?" I wonder if she immediately wanted to take that comment back. I hope so. I try and just shut my eyes for a second and breathe when people make comments without thinking first how they're received, and I have to forgive this on a daily basis as I realize that people of course don't mean to be careless with words, but yes, in fact, I'm dying to turn 30. I'm looking forward to every birthday I have in my future. I'll cry if I get to 40, but not because I'm sad that I'm getting older, it'll be because I beat the 'odds'. It sucks, sure, it might be hard to read for those of you reading it, but it's still true nonetheless. People that have gone through cancer I'm guessing are similar to me. You no longer think of getting old as a burden, you no longer have those "I don't want to grow old" thoughts; you welcome the opportunity to do so. At 29 I don't know how long my future will be, but I know that I've had to think such thoughts younger than most do. My prognosis is really just a bunch of numbers, I'm trying not to put stock into a bunch of numbers. I mean, there was a less than 1% chance of me getting cancer at this age, so I'm the last one who should look at playing the odds, right? But I'd be lying if I said that it doesn't come into play when thinking about my future plans, it's just simply a reality I live with now. Anyway, I'm fine to grow old, bring it on, I'm not upset about it in the least. I'm looking forward to 30. Then 31, 32, you get the picture... I do get extremely upset about what I'm going through, but I am lucky to be able to -for the most part- look at it objectively. I'm still an optimistic realist. :) My positive days far outweigh my negative ones so I try not to beat myself up too bad when my mind goes through its destructive phase. It's normal on some level I'm sure.
So, back to long term goals. I now have the travel itch back. This was muted a bit when I got together with Shawn as he's never been that interested in travel and we weighed all our wants with needs back when we bought a house together, and discussed what was really important to us as far as building a future together. I mean, he changed his profession back when he realized that he wanted to eventually start a family with me one day. He knew that massage therapy would only get him so far before his hands were ruined, and then what would he do to provide for his family? So he decided to get involved in his current profession, which is... I'm not even sure what you'd call it. His boss is a landscape architect, and Shawn builds stone decks, columns, stairs, etc. He's not in landscaping but he's not a stone mason either. Anyway, he loves it and that's all that matters! He is doing this so that in the long run, he'll have a career in it and be able to one day start his own business. I love that he's gotten into a trade as that's where the money is (and tradesmen are so hot!), but first you have to put in your time. We agreed that for the first few years, I'd be bringing in the bucks and he'd learn his trade, so that in 5ish years, when we'd be ready to start the family, he'd be far along in his field and I'd be making big money by then too. But we'd be okay if I took time off to have babies at that point.

This summer our whole long term plans went up in smoke. Not to say that our future will not play out that way, but there have been unforeseen obstacles let's say. For example, I've moving further and further away from my thinking of having children. That is such a crazy paradigm shift for me, truly. It's not something I've ever questioned until now, but I just no longer know if that's in the cards. Even when I realized I may not be able to physically have children, I knew I'd adopt. I no longer am so sure about that either. I'm not saying I won't, just that I'm not as sure as I once was. I can't imagine not having kids in my life, but I don't think I imagined dealing with cancer and my own mortality at the age when I'm supposed to be thinking about a wedding and babies and other such things. You just never know what life throws at you. And then there's the biological versus adoption question. If I am able to get pregnant after all this, will I even want to? I remember not to long ago when the most devastating news of my diagnosis was whether I'd get to carry a baby. It's really not that devastating anymore. Would I even chance trying to have kids? What if I passed cancer on to them? This is I'm sure why I haven't gone for genetic testing yet. They at the hospital(s) keep asking me if I'd done it yet, but I keep saying I will even though secretly I'm not sure if I'll ever get this done. Do I care to know? I don't see the point of knowing unless I plan on having kids. So if I'm even able to have children and if I decide I may want to get pregnant then I'll go and get tested. Besides, I'm not supposed to really try for kids in the next 3-5 years anyway. That is when I'm at my highest risk of recurrence and being pregnant can up your chances of a recurrence so I won't be taking that chance during the next period in my life. And then once that period passes, then what? Who knows? Will I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of kids and all the complications that will go along with that? Do I tell my hypothetical kids that I have had cancer when they get to that age of understanding and scare the crap out of them? Or do I not tell them and have them resent me for not sharing the news if I get a recurrence or worse, I'm not there for them when they realize I knew this day would come all long and they live with that? Do I leave Shawn with kids to take care of when I have no life insurance and will now never qualify for any? Shawn, the one who never wanted kids until he started dating me? Is that fair? Does that now fit in to my new reality? Or do I not have kids, live to be 60, and regret having spent the latter of my life preparing to die instead of living? Who has these answers? I just have no idea but all of this weighs me down on a regular basis, don't kid yourselves.

The one thing I have taken out of this is that I want travel in my life. I received an email from my aunt in Spain last week, and this prompted my thinking about travelling again. She was describing her leisurely travels with my uncle through Europe, and I remembered how for most of my life I've wanted that too. I've always wanted to see Europe and more than that, I've always wanted to experience Thailand. I was so jealous that my parents took that trip before I did. I've always wanted to go to Thailand but was resigned to the fact that it probably wouldn't happen. It's so expensive and I couldn't really justify that expense when we're buying a house to renovate and we're saving all our money for that, then we'll be saving all our money for a wedding, then saving all our money for a family, etc. That's how it goes, right? You don't take a few thousand dollars out of that dream to go off to Thailand just because you want to. That's selfish. Well, I'm back to wanting to go to Thailand and now I'm pretty sure I'm going to, selfish or not. I'm not going to deny myself that itch that's been bothering me forever. I'll be going to Thailand one day. It's now back on the top of the list. I decided to break the news to Shawn the other day. We were sitting quietly, and I was thinking how I'd tell him that one day soon I'm going to Thailand with a friend and he'd have to deal without me for a few weeks and he'd have to be okay with me spending the money to do so. I didn't have a specific friend in mind, but I knew of about 5 friends that if I mentioned this trip to, they'd be all for it. Right then he asked me what I was thinking, so I told him that I'd been thinking about travelling a lot again, and I really really wanted to go to Thailand. I was rambling my rationale and he just listened. Then after I paused to take a breath, he said "Well, we can't just do Thailand. We have to see other places too if we're going to do a trip like that and I just don't want it to be all Asia. What about Europe?" I was incredulous. "WE?!" "Since when have you wanted to travel?" Well, he said, he would love to see other parts of the world, there was just many other things that previously took precedent. Shawn doesn't love to fly, and he also doesn't love the water, so I thought travel was the last thing he wanted to do. But he said that his thinking lately has changed too, and he'd really like to experience other places, and he'd like to do that with me. I was so touched and so very grateful to hear him say this! But I wasn't convinced this was anything more than him appeasing me at this moment. Remember I'm the one who throws dinner in the oven with reckless abandon without first preheating the oven completely while Shawn runs behind me taking it out saying you have to wait until the little red light turns off. This is us in a nut shell. If he's agreeing to Thailand and even suggesting a tour of Europe first, I need to make this a reality while I have that window of opportunity. So I say when, assuming now is when Shawn will say that once we get all our debt paid off, and once we save enough for x, then we can start to squirrel away for a trip, etc. This is not what I heard at all. He said, how much would it cost, $15,000? I state of course not! I think we could do 2 weeks in Europe & 1 week in Thailand for half that! He said, okay, if that's the case, then if we get our debt paid off and then save $3000, we could put the rest on credit and do it. I can't believe my ears. There is no one in the world that I would want to travel anywhere with more than Shawn and not only is he expressing interest in this but also thinking of how it can be a reality and planning accordingly. I want to cry at how much I love this man! So that's settled. Once I get healthy and am able to get back to work, I'm going to plow away and save my pennies to pay off our current debt, which isn't that bad, then I need to put 3k in the bank and then I can book our tickets to Europe with a jaunt to Thailand. Hee hee! This is such great news and I think about it all the time. It keeps me motivated to see the longer goal and just keep looking at that instead of anything else. I'm pretty sure I'll get to see Thailand and many other beautiful places along the way. And who knows where we'll go after that if Shawn enjoys seeing the world! What I do know is that everyone has a list of things they want to do and see in their life, and that is one of mine. So to get to cross that off the list and have that experience and then start to plan the next one? What more could I ask for out of this life?

I'll huff and I'll puff and blow this house down!

I've had an interesting week emotionally. I've been up, down and sideways with my thinking. Yesterday I had an appointment in Oshawa as I want to try and go there for my radiation treatment in January instead of Princess Margaret. Princess Margaret is just too far to get to everyday during radiation, and I'd have to pay $20 every time I parked, which will equate to $500 in parking alone after my 5 weeks of rads. Or I can go to Oshawa, which is the opposite direction of the city hence traffic won't be as bad and I can get a monthly parking pass for $60. I'm sold. I went there yesterday and met with the doctor who will oversee my radiation treatment. He was alright, but he kept talking over my questions, which was annoying. Shawn could tell I was getting angry as I received the knee squeeze, but it is amazingly frustrating that you get one chance at a sit down to answer all your questions and he kept cutting me off to start his explanation when he clearly didn't understand half of my questions as he didn't answer them all. Anyway, whatever, I'll be going to Oshawa it looks like, which is a good thing in my eyes, so I can ask my questions as I go I guess. At this point I'm pretty sick of doctors, nurses and their staff. I ran head first into yet another ‘receptionist wall’ at Princess Margaret. It must be me; I’ve resigned to that fact now. I felt I was getting sick earlier in the week, so everyone around me is freaking out; if you've been reading my blog you'd know it can be extremely dangerous for me to get sick while undergoing chemo, and I have my 5th treatment next week and the last thing I need is for it to get delayed due to low blood counts, so I've been stressed and upset about this naturally, compounded by me being sucky anyway as I’m just like that when I get sick. Shawn has been fussing a lot around me as I'm getting sick, and he was harassing me about calling the hospital to find out what to do if I get any worse. Every day he asks if I've called yet and every day I say 'nope.' I decided to finally stop driving him insane so the other day I find the sheet with all the contact numbers and start dialing. I've gone through this before. I've called through this list of numbers before and didn't get any answers or even a live person to ask a question to. So here we go again. I can page my doctor’s nurse, which I've done twice before and haven't got a call back. I could call my doctors receptionist, but they also don't answer the phone at that office, you just leave a number and they'll get back to you, but I don’t need to speak to his receptionist, I need to talk to a doctor or a nurse. I just wanted to ask a question! All I want to know is at what point I'm supposed to go to the hospital if my cold worsens. But of course this is going to be a trying task, isn't it? I let out a long sigh and call my doctors receptionist. The message states that if it's an emergency, go to the emergency room or to speak with a doctor press '0' and ask to speak with the doctor on call. There is also this option on my sheet, but I figure I'd exhaust my other options first. Now I press '0' and when the hospital operator says "Princess Margaret Hospital," I state, "I'd like to speak with the doctor on call please." The receptionist says "what for?" I can feel the blood start to rise already. I say "I have a question to ask a doctor." "Regarding what?" is the response, followed by "This is a cancer hospital ma'am; we deal with cancer patients here and I need to know why you're asking for a doctor" to which I state exasperatedly, "I have cancer, I am a cancer patient at the hospital and I have a question regarding cancer. Can I please speak with the doctor on call?" "Ma'am, I need to know why you are asking for a doctor; I can't just connect you to one. I need to know that you're a patient that has a question regarding canc-" I snap back, "And you now know all that, can I talk to a doctor now?!" "Ma'am, there is no need to be rude, I'm just asking..." I don't know what else she said as by now my cell phone is away from my head which is buried in my lap. I am soooo sick and tired of getting talked to like this. "WHAT FOR???" Could this perhaps have been formulated in another, more patient-friendly way? If the receptionist has to find out if I am a patient of the hospital before connecting just anyone to a doctor, maybe a better question than "what for?" could be, "can I get your MRN number?" This is your patient number and that would have answered all the questions she'd have, no? She'd then deduce that I was in fact a patient at the hospital and she could find out on her little computer who my doctor is as well as my nurse and then figure out how to help me. That is her job when answering the phone, is it not? I am getting sick and getting emotional about that as it's a different kind of stress when you're told sneezing/coughing could be life-threatening and I simply don't want to tell the receptionist what is wrong with me. Is there no privacy anymore once you are diagnosed? I'm not sure what difference me telling her about the exact reason I was calling would have accomplished. I would still have needed to talk to a doctor, so why do I have to divulge this information about myself to the lady that answers the phones? I was instructed to do exactly what I did, which is press '0' and ask to speak to the doctor on call. I hear her say something once she is done chastising me about connecting me and I wait. And wait and wait. The games these receptionists play! 9 minutes later (yes I watched my clock) the same power-tripping receptionist comes back to tell me there is no doctor on call during business hours. This is great news, isn't it? Also something I'm sure she knew in the first minute of me being on hold, but such is my punishment for not doing things her way I guess. I can't talk to my doctor, or any doctor to ask these questions. Apparently questions are reserved for scheduled appointments only. I'm distressed. I'm told that getting a cold can be life-threatening to me, yet I can't find out any information about what to do from my medical team. The receptionist to her defense does ask me if I know the name of my nurse so she can page her and I tell her as well as ask her name. I only did this in the hopes that by doing so she wouldn't leave me on hold quite as long, not because I'm planning on complaining about her. It kind of worked I guess as I did get to talk to my nurse after another 6 minutes. Although by her tone with me she had spent at least 3 of those 6 minutes listening to the receptionist complain about a very rude young lady she had on the phone for her. I was told that if my temperature reaches 38 degrees, or if I cough up phlegm or if I get hot sweats, I may have an infection and I will have to go to emergency for antibiotics and any other treatment they'll need to adminster. Other than that, stay inside away from people, get under a blanket and drink a lot chicken soup. I'm now a few days into my cold and it hasn’t been that bad, knock on wood. I’m so proud of my little immune system! I’ve handled chemo astonishingly well to date, I’ve got a cold but it hasn’t got that bad where I need to be hospitalized as my immune is still obviously fighting for me. I'm wondering if maybe the super dose of steroids is also contributing to my not-too-bad cold? I even got my period a few weeks back! That was shocking and welcomed. Hadn't seen that in a while, but there she was. Even my ovaries aren’t taking my diagnosis lightly! In fact, my whole body is fighting for me and I am very grateful to it as emotionally, my mind seems to be working against me right now. The highest my temperature got to was 37.6 degrees, but didn't go above 38, so I didn't have to go to the hospital. Actually, I did have to go there to pick up my films for my radiation appointment which the receptionist at Oshawa told me I'd need to bring to my appointment, which was also stressful. I was trying to not touch anything or talk to anyone and only breathe through my shirt and held my breath on the elevator, all to go and get films that the radiologist didn't even look at or ask me for! *sigh* I'm so done with all this. I can't wait until it's over and I don't have to deal with any hospital staff or doctors that don't listen or cold, rude receptionists or a compromised immune system or being babied or having to deal with all the questions and stories that people share with me just because I've had cancer. I can't wait until I'm just another face in the crowd again and my conversations get back to what they were and I get my independence back. That'll all be very nice.

Shawn's arm or chicken noodle? I could go either way

It's now been a week since my 4th treatment. They've changed up my meds for the latter half of treatment, I'm now on Docetaxol. It was a much shorter day at the hospital last Wednesday. Craig came with me and I got in pretty much right away. They had a bed "pre-ready" for me, which was a first. Maybe because it's a new medication? Dunno, but not questioning it either! For this drug, I had to get the drip slowly at first so they can monitor any reactions. If I feel nauseous immediately or cold or if my heart races, yada yada yada, they need to be careful. Anyway, I had no reactions so they were able to open the drip and allow it to get into my veins faster. It only took just over an hour to administer as it was only one bag of drugs instead of a whole tray of bags and syringes, so in and out and home less than 3 hours after we left the house! Superb!
The first few days were uneventful; I thought maybe I was going to coast through this one, but I didn't want to celebrate until at least a week passed. I'm on more steroids with these doses; I have to take them for 3 days, 24mg a day of Dexamethasone! That's a lot! Just to put that in relative terms, a 'shock dose' of this drug is administered at 4 to 8 mg intravenously initially, to a total dose of 24 mg. I get that dose in one day for 3 days total!
Long term therapy would have you ingest only 0.5 to 1.5 mg per day. 1mg per day is body-building dose, which is a 24th of what I take orally in a day. So if this is the case, then we could logically state that a body builder would take an average of 1 mg a day for 64 days. 2 months to make it easy. So what someone looking to bulk up will take over 2 months is what I get in just 3 days. And this repeats every 3 weeks for me. Please take this in consideration when wondering how I've gained so much weight so quickly! It's said to avoid more than 1.5 mg daily, because serious side effects are more frequently encountered with higher doses. Some side effects? Here they are from my info sheet on this drug: Increased appetite leading to significant weight gain (check), muscle atrophy (check), negative protein balance, psychiatric disturbances including personality changes, irritability, euphoria, mania (certainly possible but I'd be the wrong person to answer this) hypertension, fluid and sodium retention, edema, dependence with withdrawal syndrome is frequently seen. This last one not so much, but let's talk about appetite. Raise your hand if you picture someone going through chemo as wrapped in a blanket on a rocking chair really sick and tired and sucking chicken broth through a straw which is usually forced by a care giver. Okay, fair enough, the same as I pictured too.
Now picture this.
On Saturday morning I woke up at about 6am. Before my eyes even opened, I was thinking about what to eat. I should let you know here that a part of that scenario isn't strange, ie: me waking up at the crack of dawn. I'm so annoying like that. I'm sure that most would be surprised to know I'm a chipper morning person. I wake up early every day, regardless of whether I need to work. Before this summer, I'd say waking up between 7:30am-8:30am on weekends was the norm. Now it's closer to 6:30am-7am. I get out of bed when Shawn goes to work during the week, which is about 6:45am. I don't want to, I just have no choice. I'm not able to go back to sleep once my mind starts, which it does every morning at this time. There are exceptions, such as today when I didn't get up until 8:50am and I'm in the best mood as I feel I've slept in! I've dealt with some type of imsomnia throughout my life so that's kind of prepared me for what I'm going through now. Not only do I wake up early, but I'm ready to start my day, I want to talk about everything and my mind races the most during this time, much to Shawn's dismay. It doesn't need to be said that morning and Shawn aren't friends; they just don't get along at all so they avoid each other. Okay, he has his days where he's got up early too, but he'll be affected by that grand gesture mid afternoon. I on the other hand don't nap, ever. I wish! Some people tell me that'll change later in my treatment or while undergoing radiation, but we'll see.
So, as usual, on this morning, my mind is going in a hundred different directions before my eyes open, and the streaming thought is: I want chicken noodle soup. Now. I want it now. Chicken noodle. A big steaming cup of it. The Lipton's kind that is really salty and comes in a package, not a can, with the little noodles. I need to eat that. Right now. Wait, it's not even light out yet! Doesn't matter; it's between the soup and Shawn's arm that is draped over me. I throw the covers off, grab Milo, head downstairs to prepare the coffee maker for Shawn (for 5 hours from now) and get the pot for soup out. Rip open the package, start the process. It's still dark outside, I'm not joking. I was ravenous and couldn't heat it up fast enough! Normally when I make this soup I'll beat an egg and add that during the last minute of cooking for extra protein and flavour, but no eggs today; there simply wasn't time! Just the soup. I was so happy and excited when I finally sat down on the couch and wrapped myself up in a blanket and spooned in the soup. It was so good! I finished all of it, the whole package, which is a litre of soup! It wasn't even 7am yet. I lay on the couch for the next few hours watching my recorded episodes of Grey's Anatomy while fighting with Milo for space. My dog is ridiculous. He's about 80lbs now and really believes he's a lap dog. It's no longer cute. He won't simply lie beside me, it has to be on top of me, but he does this in a way where you don't want to move him, let's out the big sigh while nuzzling into your neck. That's when it's cute, pictured here.

It's not when you get a paw across the face as he's digging his elbows (is that accurate canine terminology?) into your ribs, pictured more accurately here.

And he piles himself on top of you instead of beside you; an especially dangerous move while you're sleeping! I mean, there's room on the couch for two comfortably but with Milo it's 3 on the couch and only one of us -the non-human family member- is comfortable.

It's especially charming when guests come over to relax and unwind with a nap on the couch, pictured here with Carm.

Poor dog, he tries to compromise occasionally by simply working around us and is known to offer valuable insight into my work, pictured below with me.

Anyway, by 9am, I'm on the couch with Milo and I'm starving again. Now I'm thinking about the left over souvlaki I had from the night before. We got take out from the Ballroom (a bar Shawn used to frequent a lot) last night. They have awesome souvlaki, so we both ordered the large souvlaki with rice and roast potatoes. I used to order the small, but the quality of souvlaki isn't as good and I just make it two meals. Miraculously I didn't lick the plate last night so I still have some left (must've been thinking about dessert). It's not even double digits in the morning yet and I'm about to have my 2nd breakfast. Breakfast being an appetizer of 4 cups of chicken noodle soup followed by souvlaki, rice and roast potatoes. I'm trying to be deadpan while writing this, but how crazy is this to picture? This is my life and the consequence is my body image right now, but I can't deal with everything all the time. I didn't have any choices as far as I could tell either. It was about ingesting all of this or else turning to cannibalism. I've never had hunger like that ever! It was scary! Picture my hands wrapped around the plate of food similar to Gollum from Lord of the Rings looked while holding the ring or "his precious." Never seen the movie? Here you go (drawing taken from angryflower.com)

And it simply would not subside. I mean, right after I ate, I wasn't hungry, every time I felt sick and then thought okay, that'll be it for a long time. But the hunger would return a few hours later. This has gone on to a degree surrounding every treatment, but the last one was the worst! Why can't I crave salad and broccoli and oatmeal? It's just got to be carbs and meat, salt and sweet! *sigh* Carm will certainly have her work cut out for her in the New Year when I go to her and tell her to get all this weight off me! :P But it will happen, I have to be patient and get through my now and worry about my next year, well, next year.

On my Island with my Mandala

So its now Saturday afternoon. We have all congregated back into the big hall and we're awaiting a doctor to come out and talk with us. I'm not going to spend a lot of time on him as a) I wasn't very impressed with his presentation and b) I want to write about my last workshop. The reason I say I wasn't impressed with the doctor would probably be the same reason I wasn't impressed with my Naturopathy presentation: both 'lectures' were given by Doctors and not presenters! The guy today was all about his way too small to read slides, and was extremely morose. My table was pretty upset by his presentation although I was mostly able to scoff at it and roll my eyes instead of get upset. He had these tiny nonsensical slides that were put up on a little off to the side screen with lines going all different ways and I really had to try and keep it together as I found it so dull and boring that it was almost entertaining. He talked about how important early diagnosis is and how we have to be the champion of our own lives, and I find myself again scoffing and now getting really angry about this. This talk brings me back to me walking into the mammogram office with a requisition from my Doctor and still being turned away; how on earth are we as young women supposed to get diagnosed early when even when there is something wrong we're turned away because of our age? We know that breast cancer is more aggressive in younger women and we also know that mammograms are frowned upon when you're under 40, so riddle me this? How do we fix this obvious disconnect? What I also didn't like was that we weren't warned about the information he was going to be sharing. A lot of pictures of surgeries and scars I didn't want to see and stats that I wasn't prepared to hear in this surrounding. No matter, they didn't really bring me down but I was more upset by the girls around me that were obviously distraught about it. The sobering part for me was the poll he decided to take. In this room of approximately 200 breast cancer survivors, he asked us to stand up if we were diagnosed under 25. Two women stood up. One was at my table. I think she was over 30 at this point, but had been diagnosed 3 times before her 30th birthday. The next group was the diagnosed under 30 group, and this is where I leave my seat. I don't think I wanted it affirmed at that moment that even in this room of this many people that are in the same boat as me, and even though this is the Young Women's Conference, I was still one of about 12 people if that, that stood up. I found that a hard stat to take in about myself. The reality that what I have is indeed extremely rare. Even the other women that stood up were much older than me; they weren't currently going through treatment and may have been diagnosed under 30 but were much older now. It was good to see that these women are here today of course, but made me feel that, even in this room where I fit in the most out of any other group, I'm still on an island, aren't I?



The rest of Saturday motored on, I met some more interesting people and the night was a dance party with Salsa Dancers in a lounge type setting with big plush white couches in big square sectionals so everyone could relax and chat and drink and eat and watch the dancing. Rethink Breast Cancer put this on it was a really good time, but I didn't stay too long as it was an emotionally draining day and I couldn't wait to go home and see Shawn and Milo as I hadn't been home since Friday morning.



It is now Sunday and I met up with the girls at breakfast, and we were hanging around, slacking as usual, until we realized that -yet again- we were running late for our next seminar. Tracy and I are heading off to 'Mandala: A reflection of self,' Katie's off to yoga and the others in our group went their own ways. When Tracy and I arrived, we peaked through the crack and realized it would be hard to sneak in as the group was already formed in a semi circle and we'd be walking right into the middle of it. As we're both goofing around trying to get the other one to go in first, this other lady comes around the corner, looks at us strangely and walks right in. So we pull ourselves together and follow suit. We're not sure what we've missed but we get into the circle and follow along. We are immediately thrown into a visualization which has us close our eyes, relax our bodies and listen to the instructor. Tracy and I decide not to sit beside each other as all we'll do is crack up the whole time, and we want to actually get something out of the experience! Just like yesterdays meditation class, I find this visualization really relaxing and calming. I liked it. We're told not to think too much about what our brain is envisioning, and I am able to simply let the words of the instructor take over and am seeing what I feel I am being told to see. The only way to describe this is that I envision this orb kind of top right of my vision. It pulsates and grows brighter and dimmer, brighter and dimmer, on and on. I feel a type of rush as I concentrate on this orb, as well as concentrate on what the instructor is saying, and I have a sense of floating deeper in my subconscious. I'm actually able to do this, unbeknownst to me. Then it is time to open our eyes. This is when I notice that behind us on tables are construction paper, crayons, pastels, markers, etc etc. Oh no, we have to get creative! NOT my forte! This must have been the part that I missed at the beginning, and now I'm a little panicked. I'm not artistically creative and am not looking forward to the next part, however I am willing to leave my comfort zone at the door and dutifully follow the instructions we are given, which is to grab whatever colours we need and go and draw what we saw in our minds eye. We have to draw our Mandala. I grab black, purple and green. I don't know what came over me, but I just simply went and sat down and started drawing. I'm amazed at how easy I found it and I'm also amazed that never once did I look around at what others were doing. I just started drawing.

Here is my Mandala.


















A bit of background; a Mandala is sanskrit for "circle" or "completion," and is of Hindu origin, but is also used in other Dharmic religions, such as Buddhism. Its symbolic nature can help one "to access progressively deeper levels of the unconscious, ultimately assisting the meditator to experience a mystical sense of oneness with the ultimate unity from which the cosmos in all its manifold forms arises." The psychoanalyst Carl Jung saw the mandala as "a representation of the unconscious self," and believed his paintings of mandalas enabled him to identify emotional disorders and work towards wholeness in personality. I've explained that last part as you'll need to understand that for what I'm about to share with you about my personal mandala.



We were then told to look at our Mandala's and write down words that came to mind when we looked at it, but were instructed to not think too deeply about it, just to put the words down. After that exercise, next to the words you've written, write a descriptive word. Here are my words and descriptions:

Dark - Night
Ethereal - Floating
Blurry - Vision
Cloudy - Sky
Spirit - Ghost - Booze
Black - Cat
Orb - Circle - Energy
Bubble - Pop
Grey - Milo - Weather
Moody - Dark - Black

Next we are to write a poem using the words we've just written down. This is not difficult for me so I simply write the poem using the words chronologically. We are then instructed to grab some tape and post our drawings on the wall. We are then going to go around the room and share what our Mandala's mean to us. This is pretty comical for me as I tape up my Mandala and this is where I see other people's drawings. Okay, I've obviously done this wrong and am now completely embarrassed by what I've drawn! Everyone else's is all sunshine and roses, with bright beautiful colours and drawings of family and unity and just really cheerful with vibrant colours. Scroll back up and take another look at mine!! Not quite cheery, is it? The truly comical part is that I'm one of the first to finish my poem and join the circle, so I've already posted my Mandala and as everyone else is coming to post theirs, I notice that mine is higher and to the right of everyone else's. No one wants their picture next to mine, ha ha! We were supposed to get the next portion of the class videotaped for some documentary on the conference, but we collectively decided that we didn't want the camera crew around for our sharing session, and I think in hindsight thank goodness we spoke up about this. This next portion is one that I'll never forget and in no way would've happened with cameras present. We start at one end of the semi-circle. The lady gets up and point to her Mandala on the wall and tells us a bit about it. She decides whether to share her poem or not. Some women do and some don't. We go through a few people and stop on one lady. She shares about her Mandala, and also tells us she doesn't have a poem but she has a song that is in her mind. She seems scared and emotional and it was sobering experience for us all. The instructor asks her what song and she states "You are my Sunshine." The instructor asks her if she wants to sing it and she I think is too embarrassed to break out in song in front of all these strangers. So the instructor starts us off. Now, this may seem like the most absolute hokiest thing in the world, and this is truly what I'm thinking in this room as well, but also simultaneously thinking that this may just be the most moving exercise I have ever been a part of! There is no longer a dry eye in the room, we're all digging our hands into the tissue box and passing it around laughing in spite of each other, while wiping our dripping faces. We continue around the circle and I'm listening to everyone share their stories of their Mandala's. I'm starting to panic as I truly have no idea what to say about mine! I didn't visualize family, friends, life; I only saw this orb pulsing in and out. What on earth do I say about it?! I'm at a loss as to why this is my drawing, but it has to be for a reason right? Why did I draw this? That is when I look back up at my drawing and it hits me like a ton of bricks. I know what it is! I know what I've drawn. My whole world seemed to rotate right then at that moment of realization and enlightenment. We are now only 2 people away from my turn to share, and I don't think I'll be able to get through what I just realized. I have drawn a blank and I'm pretty sure I must be as white as a sheet at this moment. We now get to me. I'm silent for a second. I don't get up. I simply point at my black sheep dark and gloomy drawing up in the right-hand corner. I state that the bleak and morose picture is mine, to which people laugh. I tell the room that I'm not an overly bleak person although you wouldn't get that from what I've drawn! I explain to them that just 10 seconds before this moment I realized what it is I've drawn. I start to explain to this room full of ladies that I am 29 and just diagnosed a few months ago. I tell them that I'm not angry about my diagnosis, I'm angry at what almost happened to me surrounding my diagnosis. I share about going for a mammogram and having a receptionist try and turn me away as it doesn't have to be said that I'm obviously way too young to have cancer. I tell them that that is where my resentment lies and where I funnel most of my negative energy. I tell them that I just realized that if you just simply turn my Mandala counter clockwise, I'm pretty sure I've drawn my mammogram. The room gasps. They see it too. That is the xray of my right breast and one that many others in this room have seen of themselves. That is what it looked like and it is so obvious to me that I have no idea how I didn't see it right away. Only that right now in this room of survivors, I have decided that now is the time to break down. I'm crying and so is pretty much everyone else. I get it together to read my poem, which goes like this:

It was a dark night
but I didn't take flight
The feeling was ethereal
I was floating but I just couldn't feel
My vision was blurry
but there is no hurry
The cloudy sky
was like ghosts floating through the night
My spirits were up
as I thought of Milo, my adorable grey pup
The energy was a circle; an orb
A bubble that couldn't be popped
It looked dark and black
yet the orb grew back
There's a sense of peace
I've allowed myself this release

There was some silence after my turn was over, some sniffling and some tears. I get this a lot with my age being what it is. I didn't know what to say and I just sat in this room and absorbed the strength from the women around me. It was my turn to allow others to support me, which I did and it felt right. I was able to gain composure, until of course Tracy gets up and talks about her son and what her Mandala means to her and her family. Thanks Tracy, I almost made it through the 2nd half! :)

I left this workshop a different person I think than when I went in, and I'll never forget that experience. I have reflected on it and have tried to bring my angers and fears about what almost was in that mammogram office and have decided to turn that experience into a positive one. I went in to look at the films again early this week, and I got the name of the doctor that owns that office. Can you believe these offices are privately owned by Doctors? And I did find out the reason that office doesn't do mammograms on women under 30 is because of dense breast tissue! I will do something about this and I'm glad to have made the first step of getting the owners name/number. I will get stronger and then I will decide what to do about that situation. Don't know what yet, but rest assured it will be something positive.

The conference ended later Sunday afternoon with more tears, more hugs and a lot of exchanging information. I made a lot of great contacts not only professionally but friendships that only having something like cancer can bring around so openly and deeply. I have met sisters that I can lean on when needed and can offer my support to as well. I met people who have influenced my life and I'd like to think that some feel the same way about me. It was a truly awe-inspiring weekend and I am so glad and so proud of myself that I did it and that I started the weekend alone, although 'alone' is certainly not the way it ended for me.