On Having Chemo AND Being in "Remission"

Theoretically I am still in remission. That is what all the tests say. I have no tumour markers in my blood work nor has any cancer come up in my recent PET and CT scans. Yet, we know for a fact the cancer has returned.  How did this come to light? Let me explain.

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2005 it was discovered it was HIGHLY estrogen receptor positive meaning that the estrogen in my body was fueling the cancer's growth. This is not unusual and there are drugs used to remove estrogen from the body. I was put on Tamoxifen for this reason and eventually started receiving monthly Zoladex injections which turned off my ovaries completely. Theoretically that should have kept my cancer at bay.

After a few years of these monthly Zoladex injections I asked my oncologist if having my ovaries removed was not a simpler option. She agreed that since it didn't seem likely that I could ever stop taking the medication and that I was having some undesirable side-effects that might be resolved from a simple oophorectomy, going that route was a reasonable choice.

So on August 18th, 2011 I had elective surgery to yank my lady egg sacs. I woke up from the procedure feeling surprisingly good and was chatting with my mom when my surgeon arrived at my bedside. She looked like she was about to cry and told me that once she had entered my abdominal cavity she found small white cancerous deposits all over the place. Most of them were under 3 mm which would make them invisible on a scan but she had removed a couple larger ones for testing. She went on to tell me that I would likely need more chemo.

I'm not sure why but I was not particularly shocked or even that upset. Maybe it is because once you've heard a cancer diagnosis it is always in the back of your mind it will come back and you will hear it again.  Even being declared cancer-free you are never really free of the memories or thoughts of it returning. You are certainly not free of the scars and even side-effects of your treatment. Cancer never entirely leaves you after you've had it.

I remember feeling sad for the doctor that she was so upset telling me this news and I patted her arm and told her it would be okay.

She went on to tell me that while these cancerous spots were all over my peritoneum the rest of my organs, including my ovaries, looked fine. This was not entirely true as when the test results came back it turned out my ovaries were "completely" cancerous and that 1.5 cm biopsy of my bowel came back cancerous as well. One thing I knew from the start is that my type of breast cancer, lobular carcinoma, can be sneaky. It doesn't produce actual tumours but simply infiltrates the tissue, symptomless and invisible, much of the time. I've never had tumour markers in my blood tests. All my biopsies have looked perfectly fine to the human eye but have turned out to be very cancerous. Needless to say my oncologists' calming reassurances of my remission status hasn't meant a whole lot to me over the years.

This type of cancer diagnosis is called an incidental finding. If I had not had this surgery I would have never known the cancer had metastasized. So I am lucky. Not the lottery winning type of lucky but the type who finds out her previously thought cancer in remission was not so remissiony after all and gets to have chemo sooner instead of finding out once it had spread to bones, brain, etc kind of lucky!  WOo!

My oncologists were happy to take a wait-and-see approach for treatment but since I have the sneaky kind of cancer I wasn't that confident conventional testing would identify when things might be getting out of hand. I chose to act aggressively and do chemo right away. Sorta.

I decided to finish my semester at school and managed to do that while recovering from surgery, undergoing tonnes of tests and seeing lots of doctors. My attendance record wasn't pretty and my focus and concentration really sucked but with the help of some very understanding instructors I passed my fall semester with fairly decent grades.

Then I went to Vegas for a week to spend time with a good friend, had Christmas with my family and started chemo in January.

So far it is MUCH less debilitating that my previous chemo regimen. Yet, I can't say I am having a blast either.

When cancer goes rogue like mine has it is likely to be a long-term chronic condition; a disease you can live with, sometimes for many years. The hope is to keep you alive long enough for a better treatment to come along. Only about 7% of people have their metastatic cancer go into full remission. However, I've been oddly lucky so far and my cancer has been weird and rare from the start so I don't see why I can't be part of that statistic.

Actual Recent Conversation

This is why I love my friend Pablo so much.

While talking on the phone about death, just now.

Me: "I want to be cremated. But I totally don't want to be scattered in the ocean because I am a little scared of the ocean and all the fish and stuff. I don't want to be scattered in the forest either because I don't like bugs and the cold and all that outdoorsy stuff. Maybe I should be scattered in Holt Renfrew...Nah! I can't afford to shop there. I think the place I'd be most comfortable resting eternally is in a couch. So I have to find somebody who will scatter my ashes in their nice comfy couch. Or their mattress. Something cozy."

Pablo: "What about me? What should I do with my remains?"

Me: "Hey! I thought we agreed that I was supposed to throw myself on your casket at your funeral. Wearing a fabulous dress."

Pablo: "Yes, but then are you going to just leave me there to rot?"

Me: "No! What do you want me to do next?"

Pablo: "No wait! I know the perfect place to scatter your ashes. How about a cat cemetery?"

Me: "Perfect! That would be seriously purrrrfect!"

Pablo: "No wait, I totally know what I am going to do with you after you die. I'm going to have you taxidermied! I'll have you sitting on my couch with a cup of tea in a motorized hand. And your head will turn too. And when I have guests they will whisper to me that you are very quiet and I will say, 'Yes, she is.'"

Me: "Put a hinge on my head and store your spare change and keys there. Better yet, put a slit in my neck as a kleenex dispenser for when you are sad or have a cold."

Pablo: "How about I cryogenically freeze your head and then attach it to a garden nymph statue so you can play in the garden and weed it too."

Me: "NO WAIT! Attach my head to a Roomba and I'll vacuum your place for you. Maybe I'll do that with my mom. She likes to clean."

Pablo: "You're sick!"

Me: "NOW I'm sick?"

We finally decided that he will get me made into a diamond and I will have his body mummified and make a pyramid for him in Egypt to be worshipped for eternity.

I Posted! A Sign of the Apocalypse?

Oh mah gah! Where do I begin? I think with a fresh cup of tea. I’ll be right back.

Ok, now I am back but not before getting distracted by 3 different things. And, that, in a nutshell, is the story of the last 3 months.

So many things have happened that I guess I will eventually get them put on paper (cyber paper, that is) but they likely will take on a crazy criss cross pattern easy to spew out but difficult to read. Bear with me.

January-

Honestly, I don’t remember very much of January. It was pretty mellow after being snowed in for a lot of December. Christmas was nice and full of low key visits with my dear friend Tina who was here with her husband and parents from London, England for a family wedding. Then my other best friend, Pablo, came out for Christmas very last moment from Montreal. He and I hung out, ate fattening food, gossiped, and giggled a lot.

From Boxing Day to New Years Day I dog sat Xiola and Lulu. This was totally chaotic, fun and very difficult. Chaotic because that meant 4 fur kids in my very small apartment. Dexter got along fine with them and there was even some mutual grooming and kisses going on with the dogs. Yoshi, as expected freaked the fuck out, went on a puking binge and pretty much camped out the entire time on my bed which was festively covered in bright beach towels so I was not forced to strip my pukey bed every day and wash every damned thing.

Fun because I just love those damned dogs.

Difficult because it was so frickin’ cold and snowy it was physically very hard to walk them daily. Vancouver is not used to this kind of show so most sidewalks were unshovelled and extremely treacherous. I actually found it better to walk the dogs in the nearby business district late at night when it was practically deserted. Due to its high foot traffic during the day the skyscrapers had their walkways cleared very nicely. And when walking a large German Shepardy kind of dog one feels very safe in a mostly empty downtown core.

On the health front things have been somewhat challenging. Lots of tests and doctor appointments. So far everything is fine but once cancer has been part of your life every little thing gets poked and prodded and scanned and tested. I have an MRI on Wednesday and an appointment with an allergist next month. The MRI is for a lump that has come up near my cancer surgery site. I’ve been told by everybody that it is not cancer but nobody can agree on what it actually is, hence the scan. The allergist is due to persistent and somewhat alarming hives that I am getting almost on a daily basis. I think all this health crap needs its own post (and be kicked firmly in the crotch!) so I will get to that when more test results are in. So, yes, I am fine. Just a lumpy, itchy, blotchy fine.

I think I’ve posted that I been working at a new job. I LOVE MY JOB! I won’t get too into the details except to say I love my co-workers, I love the people I come into contact with on my shifts and I love that the way my job is set up it is PERFECT for a crazy person like me who has panic issues. Things are getting busier this year so now it is pretty much a 3 night a week gig. Nice little bit of extra funds coming in that allows me the luxuries like regular hair-cuts, shoes and the occasional take-out falafel.

So that is my January. I’ll get the February soon. Hopefully before April. So other topics will include:

-Dexter the kitten.

-My 40^th birthday.

-Life and Death-that weird and wonderful cycle.

-My business.

-Other horrendous boring minutia.

A Cornucopia of Feline Delight

A Cute Photo To Reduce Your Ire

Ok, I am sorry I haven't posted. Very very VERY sorry. But after I spill my brain onto this blog about what has happened over the last month you may regret your recent inquiries into my, Yoshi's and Dexter's well being.

We all all good.

Now that I got that out of the way I'll get into a little more detail.

I've been heinously busy. Partly because I am a terrible procrastinator, partly because I am a good citizen and partly because I need to pay the bills. Against all promises I made to myself, my graphic designer, my family and my friends I once again left the creation of the 2009 Iconic Women By Yoshi Calendar to the last minute. What can I say? I work better under pressure. Just not this much pressure. So it is almost done and will be sent to the printer by next week. I'll be opening up Urbanbeast.ca for pre-sales next week as well so you can order the very first copies right away for immediate delivery.

With the addition of Dexter into the mix photographing Yoshi has been a little more difficult. It involves taking Dexter over to my parent's house so Yoshi won't have a grand mal hissy. While more time consuming it has worked out even better as Yoshi loves the one-on-one time and is posing better than ever.

She is so totally and completely hilarious and adorable and I could nom nom nom her to death.

Now about Dexter. He is the cutest, most loving, friendly, happy-go-lucky kitten ON THE PLANET. Without out a doubt everybody who meets him is charmed and smitten instantly. Saying that he is also horribly bad, intentionally annoying, a less than enthusiastic listener, completely lacking in boundaries and manners, clearly not very bright, a terrible farter, and alarmingly destructive.

Yoshi totally hates him.

Her initial curiosity and interest in Dexter was replaced with loathing when he grew bigger and started jumping on her when she was sleeping, looking the other way, eating, trying to poop and minding her own business in general.*

*See above mention of lack of manners and boundaries.

So my day is filled with hissing, growling, spitting, and heartfelt smack-downs. Entirely and totally on Yoshi's part because Dexter just thinks it is all fun and more fun. Did I mention he really is not very bright?

I can say with certainty that I understand why my parents used to get so frustrated when my brother and I bickered because I now experience daily (333333333 TBGE3333333333334 -Dexter intruding on this post) the equivalent of a little boy persistently picking on his older sister. Yoshi has a look that clearly conveys, "MOoooooOOOM! He's looking at me again!"

I am exhausted. I've also taken to yelling, "Simmer DOWN! You guys!"

The futility.

Despite Yoshi's hatred she is actually really happy in general. She is resigned to Dexter's presence and, I think, not as bored as she was. Kind of like the curmudgeonly old lady yelling at the neighbourhood children to get of her lawn. Bitter but fully occupied. I expect that once Dexter grows up and loses his kitteny assholiness they will just sleep the day away in each other's company like boring old cats do.

Random Dexter von Cheddar Stats:
3 1/2 months old
5lbs 11 oz
Meows a lot
Slightly cross-eyed
Eats anything
Drools when purring

Nicknames:

• The Ched
• Ched Head
• Sir Stink-a-lot
• D von C
• NoooooDEXTERNOOOOOO!
• Duuuuude-don't wreck my shit.
• Little One
• Grandmaster Dork

As for me I've suddenly become a little more employed. I've started working a few nights per week as the Theatre Liaison of the 110 person capacity theatre that is located in my apartment building. It works out great since if I feel a little panicky or overwhelmed I can excuse myself for 5 minutes chill-out time in my own apartment with my own kitties. I just make sure that whoever is renting the facilities are treating them with respect and are out of there on time. Sweet little gig, actually.

I'm also now part of my building's Resident Council (sorta like a co-op but different) and have taken a very pro-active approach to dealing with various issues with residents and the building itself. This is totally a volunteer situation and waaaay more work that I anticipated. But good work because being pro-active and solving problems makes me a happier camper overall. I'm also on a committee that is organising and participating in a 3 day Christmas Gala fundraiser for our building (to help subsidize rents) involving an art market and cabaret-style entertainment. I am ALSO treasurer for that which is something I've never done before and am a little nervous about. I continue to be an on-call emergency person in my building one week out of every month as well as work a couple hours per week for my dad.

Yikes, right? Busy but that scattered kind of busy.

So until the calendar is finished and all the surrounding press and products (cards and magnets) are completed I am not going to be posting as much as I'd like. Because my Theatre Liaison position is nights and weekends I am trying to borrow an old laptop so on my down time (when the productions are actually going on) I can maybe write a post or two but, in general, expect me to be scarce until the New Year.

Thanks for checking in and being so patient.

And now here are more Dexter photos and video than you can watch in one sitting.

My Own Personal Sistine Chapel

The Snoozen Housen Usurper Laughs Maniacally At His Sneakiness

'Tocks

Faceplant au Cheddar

Savouring The Deeeeelicious Full Footed Bouquet

Taken Just Now

Doing My Part

I'm off to get a DQ Blizzard as all proceeds go to the Children's Miracle Network.

It is a sacrifice I'm willing to make for the kids.

One Of Those 'Life' Posts Filled With Questions That Have No Answers And Lots Of ' Marks

Do you ever find yourself in the same difficult and perplexing situations over and over again? You start to wonder if the universe is trying to teach you something or it is some heinous personal defect since the only constant element in all these situations is you.

Or in this case, me.

My particular situation is that am finding it increasingly difficult to be in the company of people.

I have a couple things going against me. First of all I have terrible social anxiety complicated by some pretty weird phobias. Any social situation is pretty agonizing on most levels. Secondly I am very sensitive to the emotions of others and so called ‘vibes’. Just very aware of the undercurrents of most interactions. Some therapists think this is why I have such bad anxiety. It is like I am lacking some sort of protective life filter.

That is another consideration as well. I’ve had a lot of therapy. A LOT. Some really bad but mostly good. I’ve learned a great deal about myself and the various limits and problems I deal with daily and as a result I am also able to recognize various psychological ‘issues’ (pronounced ithews) in others.

Let me give you an example. I have some family members who bicker a lot at family gatherings. You know, insults with smiling faces. They would also talk poorly about other family members behind their backs. When I first started seeing these people socially I would become seriously depressed for a day or two afterwards. On a couple occasions I was even teary. It got to the point where I would decline invitations to be social with them. With a couple therapy sessions I came to realize that bickering is the way some families show affection. Certainly not how I am comfortable with showing affection but each to their own, right? And I also learned that I could very subtly and politely show that I was not accepting of the negative talk about other family members. It totally worked and I am now able to be social with these people again.

The fact is that I was not raised to be assertive at all. I was raised to be ‘good’ and we all know that being ‘good’ often means being a doormat. For years I have not stood up for myself when being treated poorly and have swallowed all the emotions that go along with that. No wonder I have depression and anxiety, right? It is only in the last few years that I have stood up for myself and become pretty open about how I am feeling and, especially, how I want to be treated. As when anybody learns a new skill it is not always performed perfectly but overall I am happy with these changes. I’ve learned that not only am I a pretty quirky outspoken person with people I know and trust but in fact a leader in many respects opposed to the follower I always thought I was.

But here is the thing; I still am not sure how to deal with people who hold back from me. I’ve had a few friends/family members/acquaintances who I could sense were annoyed, displeased, or outright angry with me and for whatever reason couldn’t tell me so. I trust my gut that I am right about this and can probably guess what I had said or done to make them feel this way. Usually it is that I have an opinion that differs from theirs or have done something that they disagree with. And fair enough. I am happy to say that I am ok with all this and am totally happy to be disagreed with. I can safely be sure that I’ve not done or said anything out of malice or anger. Or it might simply be a misunderstanding. But they won’t tell me. They just start treating me differently. Sometimes it is just a feeling and sometimes it is outright passive aggressive behavior. In any case I just don’t know how to talk to somebody who cannot tell me what is wrong. And I hate being afraid to be myself and have my opinions and own ideas when I think they clearly are uncomfortable with that.

A few years back I had a very good friend who I met at work. We totally hit it off and became very close very quickly. We had a blast hanging out and were very similar in many ways. I totally trusted her and really felt like she had my back. After a couple years she seemed to be having some problems at work. I tried very hard to be supportive but found it very hard to know how to do that. So I just tried to listen and agree with her feelings. A few months went by and her behavior towards me started to change. I’d ask her if everything was ok and she’d say it was just work. But I knew it wasn’t. Unfortunately she decided to bring up everything that had been bothering her about me while we were on vacation together. Stuff that had happened over a year or two in the past and unto itself not a big deal but over time it had festered within her until it became so overwhelming she damned near lost her freaking mind. Her behavior scared me and after she brought up personal stuff I’d trusted her with and thought she accepted me for (mostly about the limits of my anxiety disorder) and then threw it in my face I knew I couldn’t save the friendship and I’ve never spoken to her since.

I hate that it got so out of hand. I really missed her but ironically not as much as I thought I would as I didn’t realize until I was out of the friendship how much I had to tippy-toe around her ‘stuff’. It was somewhat a relief in many ways to have her out of my life.

So what do you do when you just wish your friends/family/aquaintances would come out and say what they are feeling? How do you deal when you feel like you can’t be straight with them or else they will disengage or ‘punish’ you in some way?

Is this a common situation with friends and acquaintances or am I just some crazy lady? Is being up-front, honest with how I am feeling, and willing to talk about how we can agree to disagree maybe not a good thing?

Being with people is hard.

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-Being Flexible About The Friday Part

So I took some video of when I dog-sat lat week. I wanted to do a little movie for you all but with a recent update of my Quicktime plugins I now cannot do anything unless I 'BUY NOW" the whole software package. Not to mention the fact that no other programs on my computer recognize the Quicktime movie format (MOV) all of a sudden. DAMMIT!

So here is a plain old unedited video for you. You'll need sound to get the full effects of Yoshi's discontent.

A Long Post As Life Is Never Concise

Well, I’ve been leaving cryptic Twitter messages over the last few days as I’ve been going through a minor (and often not so minor) emotional rollercoaster. Here’s what has been going on.

In a nutshell I tried to adopt a kitten. And in another nutshell (I hope you’re not allergic) it got weird. The end result was that somebody else adopted this kitten and I am very sad about it.

I’ve wanted another kitten for years and for one reason or another I’ve not acted on that urge. Not for lack of obsessive internet searching on Petfinder and all the local animal rescue shelters, mind you. First of all, when Yoshi was young, I knew I was going to be moving and while it is easy enough to find accommodation that accepts a cat it can be a bit harder to find a landlord ok with two cats. When I did find cat friendly living space it was so small and entirely without doors so I just couldn’t see how I would successfully introduce a new cat into the situation. Well, I lived there for almost 8 years. Then I got cancer and dealt with the possibility that I might not be around to successfully see Yoshi to the end of her life like I expected to which was, seriously, my greatest worry throughout my treatment. Then I got better and, as many of you remember, I moved to my new apartment and attempted the Great Dog Adoption Experiment with very poor results. So I put the whole thing on hold. Yet, in the meantime I still obsessively lurked on adoption sites…

Fueled by stories of people successfully adding a new cat to their home, an enlightening dog sitting long weekend where Yoshi showed me that she could possibly handle a new addition to the family (anything would be better than 2 freakin’ dogs, right?) and the fact that I simply fell in love with this little tiny face I saw on the screen motivated me into applying to adopt a little boy kitty I saw on a cat fostering blog.

There are many MANY more pros and cons to adding a new ruler to this dynasty but that is a post (or twelve) for another day.

Now I am going to be kinda vague here as this particular blog with the cats is very popular and the content of my post is really only about my side of the situation. I can assure you all that the foster people are exceptionally great to their furry little wards and do a wonderful job. In fact that is partially why I really wanted to adopt one of their foster kitties as I knew they were loved and well taken care of in their first kitty days. These people are good people to the kitties.

So I saw this little kitten and fell in love with his eyes. He reminded me so much of Yoshi when she was tiny. All kittens are super cute but, honestly, for me, only a few tweak that aching in my tummy. I call it my ‘caternal’ instinct. I was smitten with this kitten.

The site said that if one lived in the area and was interested in adopting a kitten featured on the blog to email them. I did that knowing that I didn’t really live in the area (I lived about 3 hours drive away across the border) but hoping that my suitability and willingness to drive down for however many interviews, security checks and cavity searches were necessary to complete the deal might allow for flexibility on their end. Alas I got a reply saying that, indeed, they did not adopt out of the area. I accepted that and returned to my busy week walking dogs and doing fiddly tax reports for my business.

A couple days later things settled down, the pooches went home and I started thinking about this particular limitation and how when I was inquiring about adopting dogs as well as researching what was necessary to foster kittens myself that the typical rescue shelter mandate was finding good homes for pets and if the applicant met the criteria and was willing to deal with distance and travel issues it was not at all a problem to adopt across large distances and to neighbouring countries. Also I remembered reading on the Cat Fostering Blog that they have flown kittens to other states so…WTF?

Out of curiosity I checked out the website of the rescue organization these folks fostered from and couldn’t find such a rule. Now feeling a little odd about this discrepancy I called the shelter and asked if they adopted to folks in my situation/location and they said they did.

Now I got more than a little weirded out. I was very puzzled. Why would these people, on the basis of a couple sentences I emailed to them asking about a kitten, decide to go against shelter policy and deny me the opportunity to submit an application based on a non-existent rule?

You see the whole spirit of fostering is that you take care of an animal who might need extra care, medical attention, socializing etc. that a busy rescue shelter might be too busy/over capacity to provide in hopes that the animal could be eventually adopted opposed to euthanized. You do not own the animals you foster nor do you normally have much say or the final word on who adopts the animal you are fostering. That is the responsibility of the shelter that has its own adoption screening process. The adoption fee is paid to the shelter only. That is not to say that a foster caregiver doesn’t fall in love with their foster pets and want only the best for them and even encourage potential adopters to fill out applications but the final decision is from the shelter. So if they are not happy with the type of homes the shelter is finding for the animals then they shouldn’t foster from that shelter. Alternately if fostering doesn’t give them the control they desire over who with and where their foster pets end up then they should start their own small in-home animal rescue situation and then pick and choose where the pets go based on their own criteria.

So I emailed the foster blog folks again explaining that I had inquired to their shelter and was told there were no reasons why I couldn’t apply to adopt this particular cat. I asked why their policies differed from the place they fostered from. The reply I got made me furious. Suddenly the reason changed. Basically it was stated that for them it wasn’t the distance that was the issue after all but the border crossing that might cause delays/detention and since they cared deeply for their kittens they didn’t want to potentially subject one to that.

::Mrtl Style Tangent:: I’ve researched bringing a pet cat over the border and it is seriously no problem. Any cat over 3 months of age simply needs a current rabies vaccination (And proof thereof. IE: the receipt) and that is it! Younger kittens don’t need anything. Canada doesn’t quarantine pet animals at all. I wouldn’t even have to get out of my car crossing the border. Soooo not any kind of potential negative situation. If there was any risk that the cat would be taken away from me at the border for ANY reason I would never ever think of risking that. Jeeeez. ::End of Mrtl Style Tangent::

It was then said in their email that, differing policy aside, they thought they had possibly found a home for the cat anyway and they were sorry they couldn’t help me. Yes, a home for a cat I wanted to apply to adopt SEVERAL DAYS prior.

So in short I was told I couldn’t apply to adopt a kitten due to a rule that didn’t exist by people who normally have little to no final say over who gets to adopt said kitten or make rules in the first place and then was told upon further questioning that it wasn’t actually the first stated rule that was keeping me from applying to adopt the kitten but now a fear of ‘potential’ issues that are, in fact, total non-issues (easily discovered by anyone with internet access and Google) (and really only the concern of the shelter anyway) that imply a lack of care and concern by me for the kitten. This situation caused me to miss my legitimate and time sensitive opportunity to apply to adopt.

Um…OK! Not so short, huh?

I know I might not have been accepted to adopt this kitten by the humane society but I should have been offered the opportunity to apply.

I was terribly upset, angry and insulted. And sad, really sad. Hence the emotional rollercoaster mentioned above.

So I called the shelter again and explained everything that had gone on wondering if somehow I had missed something or if there was some sort of unique arrangement with these foster people that gave them special authority. The regular fostering co-ordinator was not in but the woman I talked to encouraged me to call the acting co-ordinator today and report what had happened.

I just got off the phone with her and she apologized which was very kind and much appreciated. While I won’t get into any details of our conversation I can say I feel much better about the situation and I felt very heard and understood by her.

And if you love happy endings then I’ll give you one. There apparently is a leeetle eeeensy teensy kitten that is similar to the one that got away. He/she is too young to be adopted yet but I get first dibs when that time comes. I’m just waiting to receive the call to drive down and take a look.

So YAY!

And whew! I need a nap.

The Silence of the Hamstrings

I’ve never been one for video games nor do I salivate over the latest technology. I can’t say I’m afraid of it but have more of a certain distrust of The Hype and a desire to keep life pretty simple. I also don’t have a lot of disposable income. So the other day I noticed Dooce was giving away some Wii Fit sets and I immediately started to covet. Sadly being a Canadian resident I am not eligible for the contest. However, I suddenly decided that I desperately neeeeeed one of these things. Admittedly I’ve never tried one. I’ve never actually seen one in the shiny and plastic-y flesh. But for some reason I am absolutely convinced that this, THIS contraption is the key to my physical fitness reform.

I have a long and sordid affair with exercise that has left me wary as well as emotionally and physically beaten. It all started when I was born. I don’t have any other reason why I was never really adventurous physically or competitive on any level other than it has got to be missing from my DNA. Kids in the playground would run around screaming their fool heads off swinging on monkey bars and flinging their bodies in all sorts of dangerous ways and I was the one sitting off to the side with a book. As a child I was cautious and always afraid to get hurt. Perhaps it was that I was very small and not very strong. Or maybe it was that I was a city kid who wasn’t exposed to the great outdoors a lot. In any case I was, from an early age, an obvious target for ridicule and torment by ‘regular’ kids.

When I was 10 years old we moved from the city centre into a suburb and the new school had a very different type of Phys Ed curriculum. Specifically it was much more competitive, team based and not at all user friendly for geeky little wimps like me. Very soon I found myself caught up in a nightmare of bullying-verbal, physical and even, frankly, sexual from my classmates. It certainly didn’t help that my PE teacher laughed at my expense frequently and quickly nicknamed me ‘Useless’ in front of my peers. It got so bad that my younger brother soon was identified by this teacher as ‘Useless’s Brother’ and eventually transferred into a completely different school as following in the footsteps of my academic reputation was too unbearable to contemplate.

Some highlights of my PE classes were team captains arguing over who would NOT get to have me on their team. I also was kicked in the face causing my front tooth to crack and called a wuss when I asked to go to the school nurse. Good times. I could go on an on but I fear, should I do so, I may eventually find myself in the corner of my closet weeping and viciously stabbing my lone dusty pair of running shoes.

Later I was diagnosed with asthma which explained why my stamina wasn’t so hot but it didn’t take long before I was dreading PE to the point of other physical symptoms. Once at the doctor office I begged to be excused from PE class due to some small ailment. The doc sensed my desperation and asked me some pointed questions. I explained everything with tears rolling down my face and he wrote me a note excusing me from PE for the rest of my school life. And then the angels sang and the weight of the entire 6^th grade co-ed second period PE class was lifted from my shoulders. Literally.

A year or so went by and I joined a friendly neighbourhood girls softball team with much encouragement from my friends (AKA: peer pressure) and assurances (from my deluded parents) that it was all about having fun and it is not whether you win or lose but…say it now, people…how you play the game. I hated it and I totally sucked at it but I tried to be a good sport and did my very best, which was, obviously, not very good at all. Then one day I overheard the coaches talking about how they thought our team was ahead enough to put me on the field. I was so crushed and embarrassed and learned that for most obsessively competitive folk sportsmanship was a load of bullshit and even pot-bellied middle-aged coaches of girls softball teams only cared about winning.

So now I am an adult and as much I know that all that happened in the past is over and the bullies were a bunch of ass-wipes who are now probably meth addicts or in jail I STILL dread any kind of sports or exercise. I dread it, dread it, DREEEEEEAAAD EEEEET! I become paralyzed and absolutely refuse to participate in any kind of organized sports and fall into a shame spiral at the thought of working out.

I’ve tried all sorts of fitness regiments and I either hate it, can’t afford it, or I hurt myself. Damaged rotator cuffs and shin splints. I think I even broke my axel once. Pinched nerves and pulled muscles. $25 individual yoga classes which make you sweat. Crowded and smelly gyms where it is more about getting picked-up than getting fit. Driving in traffic and costly parking fees for specialty fitness centres catering to us gals who are chunky and just really want to be left alone when we copiously sweat while doing puny exercises with eeensy teensy weights. All of it = FAIL!

I get discouraged easily and bored almost immediately. And being prone to panic attacks in crowded and noisy places doesn’t help. But I have to GET OFF MY ASS! Some way, somehow. I’m putting on weight, I have arthritis in my foot and my right upper body is so stiff and sore from all my breast re-construction surgery even getting started on anything is daunting. I can’t even say I am out of shape as that would imply I once was fit. It feels like a lose/lose situation and I am not talking about the saddlebags below my hips.

But what? WHAT? What is out there for me that isn’t too hard, too expensive or too humiliating in some way?

And that is where the Wii Fit comes in. Yes, it is more than I can afford but it is certainly cheaper than a year’s gym membership. Bowling, boxing, tennis and yoga…interactive style! All sorts of fun stuff that I couldn’t and wouldn’t normally do right at my fingertips along with goals to set and achieve. My own little white cubic fitness instructor! It sounds like it just might work. Is this Wii Fit thing the way to go for a fitness-phobe like me?

FINALLY! *

So I’ve been a little sick the last few days. It started out like strep throat which, of course, hit me during our Canadian long weekend. By the time my doc’s office was open again the lurgy had morphed into a cold where antibiotics were useless. It was a weird and wonderful sniffle where I’d suddenly cough until I gagged and I’d sweat until drenched. My voice warbled, my tummy grumbled and I was very out of sorts. One of those kinds of viruses that make you feel like ass but don’t quite knock you on it. Being upright felt terrible but lying in bed was worse; really boring.

While I missed a much needed haircut and a consultation for laser hair removal (what a sexy theme) I did manage to go an ‘Emergency Preparedness’ seminar at my local community centre. I was asked to attend as I am on-call for a week every month or so for emergency situations in my apartment building. We don’t have an on-site manager after business hours so some tenants, including me, were hired to be available if the shit hits the fan. Figuratively. If any real shit hits any actual fan and causes a big mess then that is the tenant’s problem and isn’t considered a real emergency and, therefore, not my responsibility. However, if the fecal collision causes fire, flood or injury then I’m the one who calls the authorities and lets them into the building.

So what I thought was an informal chat about general emergency situations turned out to be an emotional plea from a uniformed fireman to get it into our thick heads that an earthquake, THE BIG ONE, was imminent and we should all GET PREPARED!

Now if you live on the West Coast you have heard your whole life that there is going to be a HUGE earthquake; sometime between the next minute and 600 years. This sort of time-frame doesn’t really light a Boy Scout fire under my butt to ‘Be Prepared’ with any kind of urgency.

Well sisters and brothers, after 4 hours in gory detail of what to expect when (not IF, dammit, but whennnnnnn…) The Big One hits I have been converted. I am now a card carrying fear monger. I’ve been spreading the anxiety to others and, to practice what I preach, spending the last few days compiling my emergency kit and making list of what I need to know to survive in the urban wilderness sans water, food and a toilet.

In the past, when thinking about what I would do in event of an actual earthquake I have to admit to assuming that, yeah, there will be a jiggle or two and I could just wander down to the local community centre, my nearest emergency resource location, and get water, food and medical assistance as I needed. Even seeing all the terrible news footage of the big California quake in the 90’s and what happened after Katrina I still managed to blame that on crappy building codes and stupid government policy. I rationalized that the Canadian government actually took care of its citizens and that we (the grand yet ambiguous we) had our shit together and would be taken care of.

Oh ho! Soooooo not the case. Denial was my bedmate but now I sleep alone. Afraid and alone. All sorts of acronyms were thrown at me but the one that sticks in my mind the most is YOYO. That, my friends, translates to You’re On Your Own. I learned that it will be at least 72 hours, if not several days, before anybody can expect any kind of assistance from authorities and aide workers. OMG! That means unless you provide the basics for yourself you are SOL. And if that is the case nobody will be there to hear your whining so STFU. Also BYOB. I packed water but vodka would work too.

So many interesting points were brought up, yet the one foremost in my mind was the suggestion to pack garbage bags into your emergency kit as it is likely your toilets will no longer work and you basically have to poop somewhere. Fabulous. The Bag of Shame.

* Um, actually this post is about a week old and I still have to catch you all up on even more recent news. Also my Bloglines isn't working right so I have to catch up on all your blogs as well. Bear with me. I'll be around, I promise.

The Scoop, The Poop, The Skinny

*big sigh*

You have no idea how many times I've said to myself that I HAVE to update my blog and then get totally distracted and, well, don't.

So sorry.

Here is what is happening with me lately.

I am EXTREMELY busy.

Specifically I have, with very little notice, committed to participating in a craft fair. In theory this is a great thing. In practice it means I've been up to 2-2:30 am every night madly sewing stuff to sell. I've got lavender owls (Nighty Night Owls), little zippered pouches, fabric magnets and fabric grocery bags.

I seriously lost my mind and bought a total shit load of incredibly beautiful designer fabric (like several hundred dollars worth [I am a total fabric whore at the best of times but I went overboard with this]) planning to make billions of these bags. Well, it takes about 2 hours for each bag so I am totally running out of time before I am running out of fabric. I know I can sell stuff at the Christmas craft fairs but I really want to do well this weekend so I don't feel bad for buying so much.

You know, that evil mix of guilt and high expectations and stress? I call it 'Oh My God What Have I Done!?!' - That would be me.

Did I mention that somehow I got roped into the committee that is arranging this craft fair (actually they are calling it a Art Market but it takes everything I've got not to call it a Fart Market to their faces) (you know-because it rhymes) (and because I am a 10 year old boy deep inside) so I've got that on my mind as well.

And Oh YES! I've started a little job while not time consuming is also very much on my mind. And then all the work I am doing for UrbanBeast.ca is taking up some serious time.

So the poor blog is really being ignored. So is Yoshi who punished me by pooping on my bathmat the other day. The first time she has ever done anything like that in her 10 years on this planet. The same 10 years that nearly ended when I saw the poop. But it did work as I very quickly stopped ignoring her. Very loudly too.

Anyway, so that is my life right now. Please forgive my lack of updates.

Also anybody want to buy a fabric grocery bag or 6?

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-Snoozapaloooza

It has been a bit of a rough week here in my body. I've been getting terrible migraine type headaches which then lead to horrible neck and shoulder spasms. If I'm not in pain I'm on painkillers or hung-over from painkillers. This is something I deal with often this time of year due to the seriously wacked out weather (you called it Squirl!) that occurs with Springtime. High pressure followed by low pressure etc. several times a day. Rain, sun, hail, lightening, sun, rain, sun, wind, cats, dogs, toads, blood filled rivers...

You get the picture.

I'm not sure which is worse; the headaches or not knowing what the frick to wear when I go out.

So this post's theme is sleeping. Something I've been doing a lot this week and something that Yoshi is exceptionally good at.

Somebody is going to need a muscle relaxant after this nap.

Sleeping in a Meerkat Manner.

Must...nibble....toes...with dipping sauce.

I'm Totally Seriously...

Guess what? Another migraine looms on my horizon so I am off to bed with more Tylenol 3s. However, I shall return tomorrow (or I guess today but later on, right?). In the meantime check this out. My cross-stitch was featured on this site.

A Lengthy Excuse

My typical Crush Your Cat's Head Friday post is MIA because of an unscheduled change in plans. Without warning it became Fall Asleep On The Couch Ridiculously Early Friday which unexpectedly turned into a Pukey Migraine From Hell Saturday. The next thing I knew it was the afternoon of Brutal Painkiller Hangover Sunday which then predictably lead to Catch Up On My Whole Life Monday.

Here is hoping that Running Errands All Over The City Tuesday will allow for an Obsessively Reflecting On My Boring Mundane Life Wednesday post.

Bet you can't wait.

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-A Piss in the Hand is Worth Two in the Litter Box

So Yoshi turned 10 years old on Monday and we celebrated with a can of crab (which she turned her nose up at) and a call from the on-call vet with a diagnosis of severe urine crystals. He seemed quite concerned and hoped Yoshi was feeling better. I had to explain that Yoshi is feeling just fine and has no symptoms at all of this condition. I just had the testing done as a routine thing at her last check-up. He was confused and told me to make the cat drink more water to flush those little suckers out.

Yeah...ok.

So she has a lovely brand new water fountain which she sniffs at and perhaps touches her tongue to but otherwise pretty much ignores. So it just sits there making gurgling noises which inspires a somewhat uncomfortable feeling in my bladder leading to the occasional pee pee dance.

I've now changed her diet from mostly dry kibble with a small serving of canned food to a very smelly large bowl of watered down canned food and a few nuggets of dry featuring actual flavour and texture. And did I mention water? Lots of water.

It is all about the water. And keeping me paranoid.

Did you know that you can't even lead a cat to water let alone make the little turd drink?

I now lurk around her litter box making sure she isn't in any pain or discomfort when she takes a wazz. She seems fine except for the very telling embarrassed posture of her tail. Madam desires privacy and what I am doing feels worse than reading a child's diary. Way worse and much weirder.

If I don't chill out I may be pissing diamonds myself before long.

Your concern bores me.

You have got to chillax.

Sparkly Pee Pee - I Has It.

The Curse Continues

It has been a less than fun week for me. I got sick. Quite sick. In fact 2008 will forever be remembered as The Year I Puked On My Birthday And I Wasn’t Even Drunk. And if you don’t know me then you cannot fully understand how traumatic this was on a couple levels.

First of all I suffer from this pretty severely. And as such I will not get into my particular lurgie with any great details. Secondly it was my 39^th birthday. The LAST YEAR I will be in my 30s. A dinner party was planned and had to be cancelled. In fact my whole birthday weekend was a complete blur of ick and grossness.

I woke up Saturday (March 1-my birfday) quite early with terrible cramps. Whole torso cramps opposed to your typical gurgley tummy type situation. Only now that I am feeling better do I understand how sick I really was as I simply laid in bed, labour breathing through each spasm, idly thinking, “Hmmmmm…I wonder why my stomach feels so bad.” Opposed to say, calling 911 or getting my ass to my doctor.

I eventually called my folks to let them know that I was likely not going to make it to dinner citing ‘gas pains or something.’

I then took some Tylenol 3s and dozed for awhile.

Other than the cramps I felt fine.

Then I got out of bed and walked around a little.

Big mistake.

Gravity was the final incentive my gut needed and I experienced the worst Thunder From Down Under in my life. Thinking it was a good idea to drink a little to keep hydrated it was then I was joined by a disgusting rally from the northern regions.

The next few days were unpleasant to say the least.

As such I was unable to attend the Apartment Blessing and remain cursed. I wonder if my stomach flu was a clever ‘spirit ploy’ to keep me from the ceremony thereby reducing the youthful (borderline) energy I would have contributed to banishing the bad vibes or simply a pesky Norwalk virus compliments of the old people in my building. Either way, well played intestinal horrors, well played.

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-Sunday Snooze Report

I've been busy shopping and cleaning and getting ready for my cousin to visit on Monday. She is almost 20 years old so I have to make my pad as cool and groovy as possible. This is no small feat and I am, frankly, exhausted already.

Yes, I know by saying cool and groovy and pad I've just earned all 20 year olds' distain forever. Like, who totally cares?

Yoshi has been helping me out by sleeping the whole weekend and keeping her shedded fur in a small easily contained area. However, she has resorted to some creative coping postures to avoid the pungent stench caused by me scrubbing and wiping with vinegar. My apartment smells like a salad. Environmentally safe for everybody but none too pleasant for sensitive noses.

Regular cute sleeping posture.

Smell avoidance sleeping posture.

An Update: In Case You Were Wondering

So Yoshi seems to have bounced back from her tummy bug and is almost back to eating normal amounts. Sadly, my paper towel supply is sorely depleted and my carpet will never be the same again. Thanks for all your get well wishes.

You may have noticed that I twittered that I was off to the cancer clinic for an appointment. I am still going every 3 months for check-ups and so far they seem very happy with my progress. I found out something interesting as far as how they calculate survivorship, though. I’ve been counting my cancer-free status since I got the all-clear pathology test after my mastectomy in Feb. 2006. It turns out they start your cancer free countdown from your very first cancer positive biopsy test. Makes no sense to me but that is how they roll in Cancerland. So according to them I’ve actually been cancer-free (or whatever they call it) for 3 years. I thought it was 2 years next week. Hmmmm…3 years works for me!

Anyway, I think I posted a TMI list a few weeks back stating that Christmas not only brought me yummy food and great gifts but also a very grinchy bowel. I’m still trying to inspire, um, generosity in that area so I’ve been scheduled for a CT scan in a few weeks to check out all those important bits in my tummy. Nobody expects nastiness there (my blood tests came back normal) but once you’ve had cancer these everyday aches and pains cause worry and stress and, very rarely, might mean something more serious. So I have that to look forward to. It means a very early morning, large amounts of water to consume and a lot of waiting around. Well worth the peace of mind.

And thanks for all your good luck wishes to me too. Yoshi and I are so lucky to have you.

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-Poor Sick Muffin

Laying down funny and favouring her tummy. I wish there was a kitty equivalent to ginger ale.

Poor Yoshi is not feeling well. She stopped eating last night after her 6 pm wet food dinner and barfed a couple times today. She rallied a bit and ate a little wet food for dinner tonight and then promptly yacked it up again. Poor little pooper. But she just ate a little more food a few minutes ago and it seems to be staying down. I hate it when she is sick because she is normally such a healthy cat. Also because she never manages to hurl on the linoleum parts of the apartment. Only on the beige carpet part and exactly where I walk most.

I took her to the vet on Monday for just a check-up. I do that every couple of years to confirm that she is healthy and happy. Since she is going to be 10 years old this March they suggested a geriatric blood panel to look at her function levels. I got a call that I have to bring her in again for a re-check as her kidney functions were a little off. Could be very early kidney issues or just stress. Considering how she tried to climb down the back of my sweater during the exam I am thinking it is probably the stress. However, I think she might have picked up a stomach virus while at the vet. So many germs there. They also shaved half the fur off her neck and chest to take the blood sample so there will be no more costumed photo-shoots for a few weeks until that grows back. It didn't occur to me to mention she is a world famous calendar model.

So poor, poor Yoshi. And poor me as the sole clean-up crew. And poor carpet too.

Crush Your Cat's Head Friday-Yoshi's Kitchen Nightmare

Every blue moon I cook up a huge pot of tomato sauce to spoon into small serving sized containers for my freezer. I hate cooking so this is the only way I can avoid scurvy. One nasty cooking hour resulting in several wondrous microwaving minutes at later dates.

Yoshi should count her blessings that this phenomenon doesn't happen more regularly because her aversion to the smell of onions being cut up is very dramatic and fraught with anguish and despair.

As I start chopping the onions (said in a Creole accent-Onyons!) I can see her out of the corner of my eye sniffing the air with a decidedly peevish cast to her ears.



Then the obsessive head tossing and lip smacking begins.


This part lasts for several minutes.

By this time most likely the onions are in the skillet and the worst is over. My streaming eyes have stopped leaking. But Yoshi? Oh no. She's not finished.

She then runs to my bedroom and starts her pitiful wailing.

Woe, woe, my EYES! They pain me! You are a horrible person to perpetuate such dastardly deeds against my frail person!

I go to her and pet her a little.

It is not enough.

She looks at me, ears at half mast and blinks. And blinks. And blinks some more.

What she wants is for me to wipe away her tears.

Yes, tears. She actually has tears.

I get a tissue and wipe away her tears. Cooing sweet nothings to her.

But too soon I have to return to my cauldron of poison.

And then the whole thing starts again until the sauce is finished cooking and packed away in the freezer.

Actual cat tears.

Actual snotty nose.