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Showing posts with label cancer blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cancer blog. Show all posts

questions for candidates

From the Canadian Breast Cancer Network: Questions to ask your local candidates during the election campaign
 
Question 1: The Financial Impact of Breast Cancer
  
In May 2010, the Canadian Breast Cancer Network released the research report entitled Breast Cancer: Economic Impact & Labour Force Re-Entry, which firmly positioned breast cancer as an economic as well as a healthcare issue.
  
The economic impact of breast cancer is significant, and in many cases devastating for patients and their families. 80% of respondents experienced an economic impact following their diagnosis, often with distressing long-term financial consequences.
  
Some report findings:
  • Average decline in household income was $12,000 or 10% of family income
  • 44% of respondents used savings, while 27% took on debt
  • One fifth of respondents returned to work before they were ready because of financial pressure
  • Those who had chemotherapy had a greater loss of household income and were 49% more likely to take longer than 16 weeks off work
Survey respondents reported that the average duration of their breast cancer treatment was 38 weeks, and two-thirds of the respondents took 16 weeks or more off from work. Because Employment Insurance Sickness Benefits last for a maximum of 15 weeks, there was an average gap of 23 weeks during treatment without coverage.
  
If elected, will your government:
  
A. Lengthen Employment Insurance Sickness Benefits for Canadians undergoing treatment for breast and other cancers as well as other illnesses and chronic diseases that require long periods of treatment so that no one who is ill is penalized by the current limit of 15 weeks of sickness benefits?
  
B. Cancel the two-week waiting period for EI Sickness Benefits so that sick Canadians are not penalized?
  
C. Immediately extend the Employment Insurance Compassionate Care Benefit to cover family caregivers providing care to those with breast cancer, other cancers and other long-term conditions?
a. Increase the benefit to 75% of workers' earnings?
b. Increase the benefit period to a maximum of 52 weeks?
c. Allow partial weeks of compassionate care leave over a longer period?
d. Expand the eligibility criteria beyond imminent death within 26 weeks?
  

Question 2: Drug Approval Process in Canada
  
The drug approval process in Canada is lengthy and complex. Currently the performance targets as outlined on the Health Canada website is 300 days for "non-priority" drugs and 180 days for "priority" drugs.
  
Once drugs are approved by Health Canada, cancer drugs pass through the Pan-Canadian Oncology Drug Review (pCODR), formally the Joint Oncology Drug Review (JODR).This process can take up to a year for recommendation to be made. Provinces and territories may then either confirm or disagree with pCODR's recommendations, often resulting in further significant delays and an uneven patchwork of drug coverage across Canada.
  
Cancer patients in Canada face unduly long waits for much-needed drugs, and medications available in one province or territory may not be available in another. But when it comes to cancer treatment, especially for advanced or metastatic cancer, time is of the essence.
  
If elected, how will your government:
  
A. Ensure that the approval processes for new treatments are shortened to permit timely access to new treatments for those who need them

B. Ensure that no cancer patient in Canada goes without internationally recognized gold standard treatments
  

Question 3: Wait Times 

The Canadian Breast Cancer Network's 2008 Breast Cancer Wait Times in Canada Report Card showed that not all Canadian women are receiving equal access to breast cancer treatment. The project was undertaken in order to gather information about what happens across Canada in terms of wait times in four important areas: from abnormal screen to diagnosis, from diagnosis to surgery, time to radiation, time to chemotherapy.
  
We found some outstanding examples of best practices and much evidence that many jurisdictions across the country are working on innovative solutions to the wait time issue. However, the most disconcerting finding was that there are no national benchmarks for wait times and no standards for wait time reporting systems across the continuum of care. The data reported are calculated differently across jurisdictions making it impossible to compare wait times. This has not changed since 2008.
  
In the absence of comprehensive and consistent wait times data, there is no certainty that people diagnosed with breast cancer are receiving optimal care.
  
This is a complex issue. There needs to be national benchmarks for maximum wait times for diagnosis and treatment. Electronic health records must include consistent reporting of wait times across jurisdiction. Best practices must be shared and implemented across the country. Access to timely cancer care cannot depend upon ones postal code.
  
If elected, how will your government:
  
A) Provide the infrastructure necessary to ensure comprehensive and consistent standards for wait time reporting for breast cancer diagnosis and treatment across Canada

B) Ensure that national benchmarks are established for wait times associated with surgery and chemotherapy

C) Ensure the adoption of electronic health records
  
  
Join our survivor advocate campaign and make canada's decision makers aware of the issues that are important to you. Contact khurley@cbcn.ca for more information on how a little bit of your time can make a big impact.

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i'll take it.


No nausea.

No bad taste in my mouth.

No rage or sadness.

No aches and pains.

I'm just very, very tired.

I'm not complaining.

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what if nothing changes?

Today is a treatment day.

For the first time ever, I will have Herceptin on its own (if you don't count the Demerol and Gravol I get to keep the shakes and fevers at bay).

Some people have almost no side effects with Herceptin. Some feel like they have the flu.

Will the fact that my body has such a strong response to Herceptin mean that I feel more of its side effects?

The break from chemotherapy is meant to help me heal and rebuild - physically and emotionally.

The break from chemo is also a risk.

Here's hoping it all works out for the best.

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giving in to the monkey brain

Herceptin

I think I'm happy with the outcome of the brouhaha over Herceptin in Ontario. For those of you outside the province or outside the loop. Jill Anzarut, a 35 year old woman undergoing treatment for breast cancer made the news last week when she announced that the province had to pay for Herceptin because her Her2+ tumour was less than one centimetre (that's about 1/4 inch) in diameter.

The province initially refused to budge but eventually caved after a massive campaign played out in the social and traditional media. Access to Herceptin will now much more room for discretion when it comes to providing access to the drug.

I feel good about this. It's not that I think that every drug should be funded for every person. Her2+ cancers are very aggressive and, as best put by Stephen Chia, chair of the British Columbia breast-tumour group, “In HER-2 positive cancers, it’s not the size that drives it; it’s the HER-2 gene that drives it.” 

Election

Canadians are once again going to the polls. I am not happy about this. 

I'm sad that the long overdue Bill C-389 protecting the rights of transgendered people will die before it gets the chance to be thrown out by the Senate.

I'm worried that we will end up with a Conservative majority.

I have election fatigue. There was a time in my life when an election would make me feel excited and hopeful. Now I just think, "Ugh."

Presents in the mail

Did you see my scrabble pendant in yesterday's post? My friend Leslie sent it to me after I told her I'd like to have on with my initial on it. It made me very happy to open the envelope that held my surprise.

The bad with the good

Last week, I received my author's copy of the current issue of Canadian Woman Studies. The theme this quarter is Women and Cancer and I have a poem that is part of a piece called "Seven Reflections on Breast Cancer by Seven Women Who Worked Together." I'm happy about that.

I'm far less happy about another piece I stumbled on when I was leafing through the issue. It's called "The Private/Public Split in Breast Cancer Memoirs." It was written by a woman who came to my book launch in Toronto and asked for permission to speak in order to seek contributions - something to which I readily agreed. She also asked me to contribute to the issue, which prompted me to reach out to my writing group.

I had no idea that she planned to write a scathing deconstruction of my book - but that's what she did. I know that all writers get bad reviews but I found her comments to be very critical of me as a person (I guess you can't seperate the analysis of a memoir from its author) and quite unfair. 

I'm sure how to respond or react, or whether I should do so at all. I've actually been unable to finish reading the article. With a distinct lack of maturity, I threw the journal onto the living room floor and it stayed there for several days. I only just picked it up, in order to write this post.

I'll let you know what I decide to do. Meanwhile, I'm pasting my very own contribution below. It's a very small part of a greater whole (and not the strongest piece by the seven of us by any stretch) but it's mine and, like all my writing, expresses a little bit of what has been in my heart.


Snap shots

December 2nd, 2005.
When I close my eyes, I see myself as I was then.
Short dark hair and boots with heels.
Irritable and excited in equal measure.
I knew big change was coming. And it did. But it was not what I expected.
I was getting undressed when I found the lump.

July 1st, 2006
I close my eyes and see myself as I was then.
Round, bald and bloated. But happy.
Chemo is behind me. Or so I expect.
I am self-conscious but also hungry.
I eat two burgers at the barbecue.

December 24th, 2006
I close my eyes and see myself as I was.
I rallied for Christmas Eve but in the end the pain got the best of me.
My liver was riddled with tumours. And I had waited too long for the morphine.
My mother had to put me to bed. That comforted me.
And so did the drugs.

June 25th, 2007
I close my eyes and I can taste
The strawberries on my tongue
The sensual pleasure of the whipped cream
And the Niagara ice wine as it slid down my throat.
I knew I would soon have something to celebrate.

December 16th, 2009
I close my eyes so I can think.
I have now been in remission for 30 months.
And I will be in treatment for the rest of my life.
Some days I wake up celebrating.
Some days I grieve for what I have lost.
Today is a sad day.
Tomorrow will be better. Or maybe the day after that.

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now this could be fun

I've written before about the one major limitation of Herceptin - that it doesn't cross the brain-blood barrier. A couple of years ago (after meeting several young women with metastasis that had spread to the brain), I underwent a brain MRI. To my very great relief, there was no evidence of trouble but I think I'll will be requesting another before too long.

A few days ago, my friend Deanna posted a link to Breast Cancer? But Doctor...I Hate Pink and to Ann's take on the news that Viagra may help Herceptin to (ahem) penetrate the blood-brain barrier and thus help reduce the size of brain tumours.

"Herceptin, the wonder drug, has a flaw: it does not cross the blood-brain barrier. The blood-brain barrier was erected designed by nature to protect our brains from dangerous substances, such as bad viagra jokes, but what it means for cancer patients is that certain drugs can't get through to kill swollen bad cells. Herceptin cannot treat HER2+ breast cancer that has engorged spread invaded the brain. Apparently, if you add a big large generous dose of Viagra to Herceptin, it adds enough thrust power to break through that blood-brain barrier and bathe the brain in its heaving healing properties."
It's seriously interesting news but go read Ann's full post. It will make you laugh.
 

Cross-posted to Mothers With Cancer.

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mixed. but good. i think.


And I'm not talking about the weather, which while it has been mixed, has been pretty consistently bad for the last twenty four hours. We had a big dump of snow (the photo above was taken from my front door), followed by freezing rain, which will be followed by ordinary rain.

Good thing I just bought rain boots.

My GP called me last week to let me know the results of my endoscopy (I won't get in to see the gastroenterologist until March 21st). All my results were negative - no celiac, no bacterial infection, no cancer. It's all good.

Then I talked to my oncologist on Friday. We discussed my scope results and my digestive symptoms (diarrhea, heartburn, abdominal pain). He expressed surprised that I was still feeling lousy on Friday after a Tuesday treatment. I told him that my recovery time had gone from four to six days and that last round, I'd felt sick for a week (this ended up being the case this time, too).

Then my oncologist said, "It's time to take a break."

I was floored.

I had been hoping to hear these words for months (years even) but when I finally did, I definitely had a mixed reaction. I'm being taken off the chemotherapy not because I've been in remission for a while (although I have) but because the chemo has started to take too big a toll on my body.

As Dr. G. said, "You can't stay on vinorelbine forever."

I'm going to continue with the Herceptin but take a break from the chemo for at least three months. Herceptin is also known to induce flu-like symptoms but I don't think it has the lasting toxicity of chemotherapy drugs. I'm likely to bounce back more quickly after treatments.

So we'll see what happens. There are no guarantees of anything and no promises. Every change involves risk.

But the next few months will be devoted to healing.




Cross-posted to Mothers With Cancer.

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scoped

I once had a colleague who was a former Fleet Street journalist. I can't remember his name but I do remember a story he told over a particularly boozy dinner.

"The worst kinds of press releases," he said, "keep all the best bits for the end. That's just not how it should be done. It's like reading a news story that says 'A crowd gathered at Buckingham Palace today. There were also fire engines and ambulances. The corgies were brought out to safety. The Palace burned to the ground. The Queen is dead."

As I went on to work in communications, I kept that anecdote in mind and tried to make sure that the most important facts were kept in the lead of my news releases.

But this is not a news release and I can tell my story in way that pleases me.

I had an endoscopy yesterday.

I wasn't terribly worried when the secretary at reception couldn't find any record of me. I credit the Ativan for that. You still feel the anxiety but it's further away. Almost like it's someone else's anxiety.

She must have found me in the end, because I was called into the endoscopy unit, given an id bracelet and told to change into a robe.

The endoscopy unit at the Civic Hospital could use a facelift. The paint was peeling off the walls in the waiting room and the beds in the prep and recovery area are separated by curtains. My neighbour and I learned a lot about each others' medical histories and bowel movements.

Every nurse I spoke to was very taken aback that I should have metastatic breast cancer at my age.

Every one of the nurses was really kind.

The nurse who took my history and prepped me for the anesthetic noted my "crappy veins" but she got the vein accessed in one poke, so major kudos to her.

My bed was eventually wheeled into the room where the procedure would be done. At this point, I met Dr. A. for the first time. There was another doctor with him who introduced himself so quickly that I didn't catch his name. This second doctor, who I assume was a resident (why don't they introduce themselves as such? Residents always say, "I work with Dr. So and So." They never say "I am learning from Dr. So and So. Do they think the patients can't be trusted with this information? This really bugs me because I can always tell they are residents and I would be much more forgiving if they were honest with me) began to very rapidly list off all the horrendous risks of the procedure and then handed me a waver to sign. 

It's a good thing that I had done tons of my own research (and that I had taken the Ativan) because I might have demanded that they wheel me out of there.

Dr. A. asked me if I had signed the waiver and if I had any questions. I said, "I just want to get this over with."

I mentioned my strong gag reflex to Dr. Resident. He instructed the nurse (pompously? Am I being biased?) to give me some extra shots of the anesthetic spray for my throat (I had the distinct impression that the nurse was going to do this anyway but perhaps I am biased). Then they hooked me up to the drip, placed a plastic frame with a hole in it in my mouth and shoved a tube down my throat.

I then proceeded to gag, choke and gasp for breath. Tears streamed down my face. 

I'll never forget the nurse who gently held my head and spoke comfortingly to me.

It's amazing how big the endoscopy tube looked to me. There's no way it could have  been that big in real life.

I heard Dr. A. say something about how studies had shown that the gag reflex was greatly diminished when Fentanyl is administered.

I heard Dr. Resident sound surprised.

A nurse administered Fentanyl via my IV. And then I was really, really stoned (I just read that Fentanyl is 100 times more potent than morphine and I had a cocktail with other sedatives).

Not sure if I passed out or not but I was pretty woozy. I know they called T. to come and get me. And I know that one of the nurses suggested I try and get dressed.

I sat up and nearly puked. The nurse got me to lie back down again.

Lather, rinse and repeat a few times.

One of the nurses gave me some apple juice, which helped.

I asked what drugs I had been given. A nurse looked that up and said with surprise that I had been given a drug in the Valium family and Fentanyl. She said, "No wonder you're so wasted."

I heard someone mention Gravol (known as Dramamine in the US). I now understand why they give it to me each time they give me Demerol at the cancer centre. They gave me a barf bag.

I texted T. to see why he still hadn't arrived. He texted back that he was in the waiting room. I told him to come get me. He said that the secretary wouldn't let him past the waiting room.

If he wasn't allowed past the waiting room and I wasn't allowed to leave without him (nor could I walk on my own), we were kind of stuck.

One of the nurses went to get him.

Before I left, Dr. A. came to talk to me. He said that I am to come to his office in around four weeks, at which time I will get my results. He also told me that there were no visible tumours (see what I mean about burying the good stuff under a whole pile of details?).

I went home and slept for 6 and a half hours. It would have been longer if T. hadn't come into the room to check on me. I was pretty dopey all evening (giving all my online Scrabble opponents an unfair advantage) and hit the hay before 10.

My throat hurts today and I'm still kind of tired but I did get out for a run (it's 10C here today that's 50F), so I guess I'm recovering pretty well.

In a months time, I'll find out if the biopsies revealed any pre-cancerous cells. Or if I have celiac disease. And Dr. A. promised that if they don't find anyting, he's going to want to do a colonoscopy.

What fun.


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feeling better



Because I've been able to go out for walks and for runs with the dog.

Because I had a really nice weekend and a very nice Valentine's Day (especially for someone who doesn't really celebrate it).

Because I have so many wonderful people in my life.

Because some of my symptoms have improved considerably (and they most definitely did not improve at all before I was diagnosed with the recurrence of cancer).

Because I have survived experiences that have been far more physically traumatic (like giving birth. Twice) than an endoscopy could possibly be.

I am feeling better today.

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when Google is not your friend

So I've been having some (ahem) gastrointestinal issues for a while. Last spring, I was diagnosed with GERD. Things got better after I made some amendments to my diet and started taking meds (so much better that I got lazy about the diet and just took the meds). But now the issues are back in spades, along with abdominal discomfort and a feeling I can only discribe as "weasels chewing on my innards."

A couple of weeks ago, I went to see my GP who doubled my dose of the meds, ordered some blood tests and other (ahem) samples and put in a referral to a gastroenterologist. She told me that it would likely be a six month wait.

I had chemo on Tuesday, February 1st, which means I should have been feeling more or less like myself on the week end. I did not. By Saturday, I was still achy, weak, nauseated and the stomach weasels were out in full force. On Sunday, I felt no better.

On Monday, I went back to my doctor. 

She examined me and, to my enormous relief, reassured me that my liver is where it should be (not swollen and tender like it was when I was diagnosed with liver metastasis. She also said that I should  take comfort from the fact that my blood counts, taken less than a week before had shown all my liver functions to be perfectly normal.

We discussed the possibility of me having contracted a parasite or a virus (I certainly know enough people who've been ill, including my two kids. My suppressed immune system - from the chemo - makes me susceptible to every passing illness) or that anxiety could be playing a role in my physical condition.

My doc is a great advocate, though, and she picked up the phone while I was still with her and left a message for the gastroenterologist, asking if I could be seen more quickly.

I left her office feeling almost euphoric, with all health related anxiety pushed to the back of my mind (there was enough other anxiety to take up all the space in the forefront).

Then yesterday, I got a call from my doc's office, telling me that I have an appointment with the gastroenterologist - and an endoscopy - scheduled for February 17. That's really soon.

I've heard that endoscopies can be really traumatic experiences, so I Googled "endoscopy" just to reassure myself (seriously, that's what I told myself).

Well, not only do I not feel reassured (they shove a camera down your throat to look at your innards! I have a very strong gag reflex) but I am now freaking out about the test and about exactly what it is they might find down there. It could be nothing. Could be something relatively benign. Or it could be...well I'm trying not to think about it.

I haven't been for a run in more than a week because of chemo and the (ahem) gastrointestinal issues. But I think I might risk it.

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small changes

My life is a work in progress (some days I feel like there has been more progress than others) and I can never quite escape the urge to make changes as the new year rolls in.

In the past I have I not found sweeping changes to be sustainable. Even my list of monthly changes last year didn't last past June. 

However, my pledge to make soup was a huge success and has served me well. In fact, today's lunch was soup (kale, sweet potato and red lentil with home made turkey broth) I made and froze a couple of weeks ago. During a chemo week, when I don't feel much like eating anything, it's a real gift to have something easy to heat up and healthy to eat.

This year, I resolved that it would suit me best to make one new small change every week. And so far, this is working pretty well. I haven't been perfect but the changes are adding up and I do feel like new, healthful habits are being created.

So today, on the eve of the Chinese New Year, it seems fitting to come clean on the blog and go public with my changes. You can all help me stay accountable.

And do let me know if you have made any healthy changes so far in 2011. I realized the other day that I'm far from alone. Over at BlogHer they were talking about taking small steps to get healthy for the entire month of January. How'd I miss that?

Here are my changes so far:

Week 1: Weigh in and record my weight every Monday.

Week 2: Begin doing strength training exercises developed for cancer survivors. I've been doing these on run days and plan to work up to about thirty minutes, three times a week.

Week 3: Drink no more than five alcoholic drinks per week. I've gone over this limit every week so far but not by a lot.

Week 4: Drink more water. My nutrionist recommended drinking as many ounces as half my weight in pounds. This is a lot of water.

Week 5: Meditate every day. Start at five minutes and work my way up to twenty. This is something I have been meaning to do for a while. So far this week, I have meditated twice for ten minutes each time. It's a start.

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a day at the chemo unit

Today is a chemo day, so I won't be around to post anything new. This piece originally appeared as a guest post on the blog of the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation. It's pretty Ottawa-specific but I suspect that many of the routines are similar, wherever you're being treated.

Further to yesterday's post, I thought I would write about what you can expect when visiting the cancer centre for a chemotherapy or other systemic treatment. When I was starting out, I found the chemo orientation and the tour to be very helpful but there was a lot of information to digest. And I was feeling so overwhelmed that much of it was quickly forgotten.

Checking in:

Present your green hospital card at reception and your requisition form for blood work, if you have an appointment to do that before chemo.

Blood work:

It's worth digressing at this point to talk about blood work. You need to have blood work done in advance of every chemotherapy treatment – usually the day before or the day of treatment. You don't need an appointment to go to the lab, just your requisition.

However, I highly recommend getting a picc or a port. I had a portacath put in after my second treatment (it's a pretty simple and quick procedure) and I have no regrets. Chemotherapy can cause veins to become hard and small and blood draws can become painful, frustrating and traumatic. By my second treatment, finding a working vein was already a challenge. I think that my port makes everything much easier and am always happy to show mine to other patients. 



The only downside to going the port or picc route is that you have to make an appointment through the chemotherapy unit to have your blood drawn by a nurse. It's worth calling as soon as you know when your chemo will be. Allow about two hours between bloodworm and chemo. I always try and do both appointments on the same day – have my blood work done, then go have a snack and come back for chemo.

Back at reception:

Once you have checked in, look at your watch. Then go sit down in the waiting area and get comfortable (this is where a good book, crossword puzzle or knitting come in handy). You can also go and check out the free hats and scarves in the alcove to the right of reception. Just be sure and keep an ear open so that you know when you are being called.

If more than twenty minutes elapse between when you check in and when you are called, it's worth checking in again with reception to make sure there are no delays. In almost five years of treatment, I have only had to wait more than twenty minutes a handful of times.

The receptionist, a volunteer (in the yellow jackets) or a nurse will let you know when it's your turn and send you to one of the “pods” - the numbered units arranged around the outside perimeter of the unit.

Treatment:

Your nurse will introduce herself, go over your info (name other id, to make sure that you get the right drugs!) and you will be settled in a bed or a chair (don't be shy about stating your preference).

There are lots of chairs around for guests. If you have someone with you, ask them to sit on the opposite side from the iv drip, so that the nurse will have easier access and your friend will be more comfortable.

The nurse will take your “vitals” (blood pressure and temperature), check over your blood work and hook you up to the iv unit). Your drugs will be ordered from the pharmacy and while you wait, the nurse will likely start a saline drip, to get you hydrated.

Speaking of hydrated, it's perfectly OK to go to the bathroom during treatment. You're being filled with a lot of liquid! Just unplug your unit from the wall (they have batteries for back up) and head over to one of the washrooms.

I always bring my own blanket to chemo but there are also lovely warm sheets available to patients. Ask the nurse for one if you get cold.

During treatment you can read, talk to your friend, listen to music, watch a DVD and even cruise the internet (ask at reception for the wifi password). Do what you need to pass the time comfortably.

Treatment can take anywhere from ten minutes to several hours. When you're done, the iv unit will beep and the nurse will come and unhook you. She will mostly likely take your vitals again before sending you on your way.

I know that sounds like a lot of information but it's actually all pretty straightforward and there are lots of people there to ask for help and to answer questions. It will be easier than you think.





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welcome to my life

Earlier this week, my friend K. sent me an article from the New York Times that was the best piece of journalistic writing on metastatic breast cancer I've ever read. And I've read a lot on this subject.

I cried when I read it (but as I told K., in a good way) because it resonated so deeply with me, juxtaposing the facts and the experiences of women living with cancer that can never be considered cured. I started to highlight the best bits to share with you here but ended up cutting and pasting more than two thirds of the article.

I've decided that it's best not violate copyright or my own ethics and just post the link and ask you to please go read this article:




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more yoga for those of us who live with cancer

Do you live in Ottawa? Have you been treated for cancer or are you in treatment now? Can you get to Old Ottawa South on Wednesdays at noon? Maureen Fallis, Director of Surround Circle Yoga, Certified yogaTHRIVE© Teacher has put together what promises to be a great program. I'm excited and planning on participating. Care to join me?


YOGA THRIVE
A course specifically designed for people who have an experience with cancer.
Peace, ease, strength and a renewed sense of being human – this was my experience. It must have been the power of yoga at work!” S.B.
yogaThrive© is a therapeutic yoga program that will help improve body mechanics, breathing, ease, flexibility and strength. This 8-week program is designed to work at a physical level providing for immense shifts physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually … which could open the door to even more profound changes throughout the psyche. What begins on one level tends to continue at multiple levels – an absolute necessity for full healing to occur. The change can be fast, even when the stimulus or the input appears slow and steady.
Discover the beauty of yoga ~ feel better-stronger, more relaxed and in more control!
Surround Circle Yoga
15 Aylmer Avenue, Old Ottawa South
Wednesdays 12:00 – 1:15pm

January 19 – March 9, 2011
March 23 – May 11, 2011
$88.00 (HST is included)
613-730-6649

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guest blogging!


I was honoured to be asked to be this week's guest blogger for the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation (the folks who organized my recent makeover).

Let me know what you think. I even like the photo they're using! 

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speaks to me

Thank you xkcd.

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and then my hair got did (final makeover post, i promise)

Of the four women being made over, two of us picked our clothes and shoes in the morning and then had our hair done after lunch. I was grateful to be in the afternoon group and have someone else do the work for a couple of hours.





Actually, I did have to do a bit of work. It took concentration to separate those little papers.





You can't really see all of them, but there are THREE little bowls of colout being applied to my head.





This is my favourite part.











And this is why my hair will never again look the way it did when Tony was finished with it. How does anyone do the back of their own head like that?







Thanks so much to Tony from L'Elégance Salon (they don't have a web site or I'd provide a link), the St. Laurent Centre and the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation for making all of this possible.



(All photos by S. Sioufi except the last which was provided by T. Vincent)







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and then it got easier

It's not that I don't have anything else to talk about. It's just that life has been really, really busy lately and when I finally get the time to blog, my brain is no longer working.

I thought I'd continue sharing my makeover photo-story with you. Please feel free to move right along if you're bored with this stuff. Let me know in the comments if you've read anything interesting lately.

Meanwhile, the shoe store was more fun than the changing room:

First I had to pretend to be shopping for shoes, so that A Channel could get some footage.

Check out the heels on these babies.


I threw on this dress so that I could be filmed without ruining the surprise. It hadn't even been among the outfits that I considered but I loved it so much that I thought about changing my mind. Or going back a few days later and buying it. But seriously - where would I wear a second fancy outfit? To the dog park? Buying groceries? To parent-teacher interviews?


Can you tell which shoes I came in with?


It just occurred to me that the ones I chose (#53) look a bit like my old Blundstones mated with the those sexy pumps I looked at when I was still wearing the diva dress. Little boots but with a ridiculous heel.

See that crazy grin on my face? I love shopping for shoes.


Here's a better view of the whole ensemble. The St. Laurent Centre even paid to have my top altered. The outfit is hanging in my closet. I may just decide that I will wear it to the dog park.

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chronological order

Arrived at the St. Laurent Centre with my friend SS, met the other women and realized that I was going to have an exciting day.


I was impressed with Tony from L'Elegance. He was consultative but had a pretty clear idea of what he wanted to do.


Trying on clothes was hard work. I don't have photos of some of the real duds or I would share (really I would). Finding items that fit and looked good was a real challenge and there were moments when I felt extremely frustrated. There were lots of great helpers, though.


I was determined to be open-minded but this was just too much sparkly for me. I felt like I was wearing a very shiny washboard.

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