Mike and Mel Skating ... February 24th, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
On moving forward ... or something like that
It's Day 21 of my fourth and final chemotherapy treatment ... and boy do I have a lot to think about. I developed a serious case of tunnel vision throughout all of this. Since the very first day I was diagnosed, and especially since the very first day I began chemo, all I could think about was how happy I would be when it was all over. I passed each and every day away, striving with all I could for the end of all this mess. Was that a good idea? I'm sure people would have varying opinions on the matter. I do believe that spending all your time wishing for the future is merely a form of wasting your life away, but I also believe that in this particular situation tunnel vision became a tool that helped me to get through it all without 'cracking up' before it had a chance to end.
And here we are. At the end of the tunnel. Or is it? I expected much more of 'the end' (or the new beginning) than this that I am now experiencing. I guess I never really knew where the end of the tunnel would lead me, I simply knew that it could only be better than what I was experiencing thus far. Perhaps I trivialized moving forward--it is much more difficult than I ever imagined. Now that I am left to begin picking up the pieces of my shattered life, I am also left to wonder where I should begin.
I would like to get back into running and playing squash, but my nervousness about my current physical strength holds me back. Am I moving too quickly? I worry that I will be placing too much strain on my already weakened body. I joined the gym to begin weight training, but I also find myself nervous to go there in fear that, again, it may be too strenuous too soon. What if I faint or get sick there? My plans for getting back into physical activity in full force at 'the end of the tunnel' now seem jeopardized. It will not be as easy as I imagined ...
I would like to begin teaching again very much as well. I miss being around children and I miss the business of my previous life (although I never thought I would be saying this a year ago!). I was always such an active person ... constantly busy and 'on the go.' My recent house-ridden life has thrown my mind a huge curve ball. I'm not used to lazing around in boredom and, frankly, I do not enjoy it in the least. Children have always been a part of my life. I enjoy being around them-- their innocence and naivete gives me a fresh outlook on life. My ties with children were abruptly dismantled when all of this began. So, as you can imagine, teaching was also a big piece of the tunnel's end. However, now that I am "here," I wonder if it may be too soon for me to get back into the stressful and demanding work I once did. I planned to begin substitute teaching and offering private piano lessons in mid-March (following March break), but I have recently had various people warn me that I may be moving too fast. They say both my body AND my mind need lots of time to heal and rest after all they have been through. Now I wonder, should I begin teaching next month? Or will this jeopardize the healing process?
I would also very much like to pick my social life up where I left it when all this began. My life was once bustling with friendships and social events, but since hell broke loose, that part of my life was quickly put on hold. Now that I have been basically house-bound for over half a year, I find this difficult. I do not feel as though I am in the correct mindset for 'partying' and I happen to be in Cape Breton--home of pogy and beer (which means that this is what most people my age are interested in doing with their spare time). And, athough I thought this experience would bring me closer to friends, it actually managed to distance me from many people who I once considered best friends. This was not only because of my inability to go out and do most things that other people my age were doing, but also because of others' inability to accomodate my temporary disabilities. I have heard so many cancer survivors (especially my age) that say that many people whom they would have expected to be there for them just abandoned them during the most difficult time in their lives. The same rings true for me. It is difficult to understand how anyone could behave this way, but it also really allows you to see who your true friends are. Because of all this, however, I feel reluctant to rekindle some of those friendships and I'm left to shuffle through the remains.
Finally, I saw 'the end of the tunnel' as being the time when I would return to my normal life. But frankly, being hairless is making normalcy seem impossible. Although I am finished chemo, my hair has just begun showing signs of regrowth. I feel as though it will be a very long process that will make moving on very challenging. And I'll add a newsflash, my eyelashes HAVE begun thinning over the past week (so, approx. 2 weeks into the fourth chemo treatment). They have not completely fallen out, but they seem thinner than usual. My eyebrows still seem the same. But, if I lose my eyelashes and eyebrows completely it will make the process of moving on even more difficult for me.
So, I suppose the end of the tunnel is not as cut and dry as I once assumed it would be. The process of getting my life back is going to be a slow and sometimes painful one and will be almost as though I am gathering fallen pieces and slowly placing them back together. I will need to acquire as much patience and diligence as is humanly possible. My task now is to learn how to keep the tunnel vision that has gotten me this far, while at the same time learning not to waste my life away wishing and waiting for days to come. I really do not want to take anything for granted. I want to cherish everyday, even if it has its challenges. I feel that this will be the only way for me to really enjoy the process of moving forward.
Do you believe
In what you see?
Motionless wheel,
Nothing is real.
Wasting my time
In the waiting line.
Do you believe
In what you see?
...Zero7- In the Waiting Line...
(Listen to this song in the side panel)
And here we are. At the end of the tunnel. Or is it? I expected much more of 'the end' (or the new beginning) than this that I am now experiencing. I guess I never really knew where the end of the tunnel would lead me, I simply knew that it could only be better than what I was experiencing thus far. Perhaps I trivialized moving forward--it is much more difficult than I ever imagined. Now that I am left to begin picking up the pieces of my shattered life, I am also left to wonder where I should begin.
I would like to get back into running and playing squash, but my nervousness about my current physical strength holds me back. Am I moving too quickly? I worry that I will be placing too much strain on my already weakened body. I joined the gym to begin weight training, but I also find myself nervous to go there in fear that, again, it may be too strenuous too soon. What if I faint or get sick there? My plans for getting back into physical activity in full force at 'the end of the tunnel' now seem jeopardized. It will not be as easy as I imagined ...
I would like to begin teaching again very much as well. I miss being around children and I miss the business of my previous life (although I never thought I would be saying this a year ago!). I was always such an active person ... constantly busy and 'on the go.' My recent house-ridden life has thrown my mind a huge curve ball. I'm not used to lazing around in boredom and, frankly, I do not enjoy it in the least. Children have always been a part of my life. I enjoy being around them-- their innocence and naivete gives me a fresh outlook on life. My ties with children were abruptly dismantled when all of this began. So, as you can imagine, teaching was also a big piece of the tunnel's end. However, now that I am "here," I wonder if it may be too soon for me to get back into the stressful and demanding work I once did. I planned to begin substitute teaching and offering private piano lessons in mid-March (following March break), but I have recently had various people warn me that I may be moving too fast. They say both my body AND my mind need lots of time to heal and rest after all they have been through. Now I wonder, should I begin teaching next month? Or will this jeopardize the healing process?
I would also very much like to pick my social life up where I left it when all this began. My life was once bustling with friendships and social events, but since hell broke loose, that part of my life was quickly put on hold. Now that I have been basically house-bound for over half a year, I find this difficult. I do not feel as though I am in the correct mindset for 'partying' and I happen to be in Cape Breton--home of pogy and beer (which means that this is what most people my age are interested in doing with their spare time). And, athough I thought this experience would bring me closer to friends, it actually managed to distance me from many people who I once considered best friends. This was not only because of my inability to go out and do most things that other people my age were doing, but also because of others' inability to accomodate my temporary disabilities. I have heard so many cancer survivors (especially my age) that say that many people whom they would have expected to be there for them just abandoned them during the most difficult time in their lives. The same rings true for me. It is difficult to understand how anyone could behave this way, but it also really allows you to see who your true friends are. Because of all this, however, I feel reluctant to rekindle some of those friendships and I'm left to shuffle through the remains.
Finally, I saw 'the end of the tunnel' as being the time when I would return to my normal life. But frankly, being hairless is making normalcy seem impossible. Although I am finished chemo, my hair has just begun showing signs of regrowth. I feel as though it will be a very long process that will make moving on very challenging. And I'll add a newsflash, my eyelashes HAVE begun thinning over the past week (so, approx. 2 weeks into the fourth chemo treatment). They have not completely fallen out, but they seem thinner than usual. My eyebrows still seem the same. But, if I lose my eyelashes and eyebrows completely it will make the process of moving on even more difficult for me.
So, I suppose the end of the tunnel is not as cut and dry as I once assumed it would be. The process of getting my life back is going to be a slow and sometimes painful one and will be almost as though I am gathering fallen pieces and slowly placing them back together. I will need to acquire as much patience and diligence as is humanly possible. My task now is to learn how to keep the tunnel vision that has gotten me this far, while at the same time learning not to waste my life away wishing and waiting for days to come. I really do not want to take anything for granted. I want to cherish everyday, even if it has its challenges. I feel that this will be the only way for me to really enjoy the process of moving forward.
Do you believe
In what you see?
Motionless wheel,
Nothing is real.
Wasting my time
In the waiting line.
Do you believe
In what you see?
...Zero7- In the Waiting Line...
(Listen to this song in the side panel)
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Dedicated To All Women ...
This post is dedicated to all women out there. One of the biggest risk factors for breast cancer is being a woman. The ugly truth is that 1 in 8 of you out there will develop breast cancer at some point in your lives, and this number has been rising at an alarming rate over the past few decades. The scary part is that we don't know why. The good news is that survival rates for this disease are higher than they ever were and there is a good chance that if breast cancer is detected early it can be overcome. Because of this, it is extremely important that all women (especially young women) learn the importance of self breast exams so that we can arm and protect ourselves against this near-epidemic disease and nip cancer in the bud before it has a chance to potentially take our lives. If it weren't for my taking an active role in my health, I would likely still be walking around with cancer growing like wildfire within me and not even know it.
Back in late July, as I discussed quite a while back, I went to my family doctor in preparation for my travels to South Korea to get my yearly 'women's exam' and some vaccinations. I received a pap test and a breast exam (after my doctor asked if I would "like" a breast exam) and was sent on my merry way, not even considering that something was wrong with me. Just one month later, it was while performing a self breast exam (in South Korea) that I discovered the lump that changed my life.
There are a few things you can take from this. The first is that young people aren't expected to get breast cancer or other kinds of cancers, but they do. Although it is not AS common, it happens, and it is not as rare as you may think. So, young women beware. Be sure you go get a yearly exam no matter how horrible it may be. And, if your doctor does not offer a breast exam, ASK for one. Your yearly exam could save you not only from breast cancer, but also from cervical, uterine, and ovarian cancers, which are also quite common among us women (I recently learned of a 20 year old in my area diagnosed with uterine cancer!).
The second thing you can take from this is that my cancer was found through a self breast exam, and by doing this frequently, I managed to catch my breast cancer in its earliest stage, which heavily increased my chances of survival. Self breast exams could SAVE YOUR LIFE. And they only take a few minutes.
The final thing you may take from this is that at the end of July I received a self breast exam from my doctor. She did not feel a lump, which meant it was probably too small to be felt or to be noticed as anything abnormal. By the end of August, the lump was almost 1 cm in size, or approx. this big: (-----). Thus, within a month the lump grew from an insignificant size that could not be felt, to an easily distinguishable bump that could easily be felt. Thus, it is important to do exams frequently (at least monthly) to check for changes.
I know a lot of women are unsure about self breast exams. They aren't sure what to be looking for--what's normal and what's not. They aren't sure exactly how it's done. I found a very helpful 3 minute video on how to perform a self breast exam that can be viewed by click the following link: Self Breast Examination
For further information on self-breast exams, visit the following websites:
And ... Some personal tips:
Back in late July, as I discussed quite a while back, I went to my family doctor in preparation for my travels to South Korea to get my yearly 'women's exam' and some vaccinations. I received a pap test and a breast exam (after my doctor asked if I would "like" a breast exam) and was sent on my merry way, not even considering that something was wrong with me. Just one month later, it was while performing a self breast exam (in South Korea) that I discovered the lump that changed my life.
There are a few things you can take from this. The first is that young people aren't expected to get breast cancer or other kinds of cancers, but they do. Although it is not AS common, it happens, and it is not as rare as you may think. So, young women beware. Be sure you go get a yearly exam no matter how horrible it may be. And, if your doctor does not offer a breast exam, ASK for one. Your yearly exam could save you not only from breast cancer, but also from cervical, uterine, and ovarian cancers, which are also quite common among us women (I recently learned of a 20 year old in my area diagnosed with uterine cancer!).
The second thing you can take from this is that my cancer was found through a self breast exam, and by doing this frequently, I managed to catch my breast cancer in its earliest stage, which heavily increased my chances of survival. Self breast exams could SAVE YOUR LIFE. And they only take a few minutes.
The final thing you may take from this is that at the end of July I received a self breast exam from my doctor. She did not feel a lump, which meant it was probably too small to be felt or to be noticed as anything abnormal. By the end of August, the lump was almost 1 cm in size, or approx. this big: (-----). Thus, within a month the lump grew from an insignificant size that could not be felt, to an easily distinguishable bump that could easily be felt. Thus, it is important to do exams frequently (at least monthly) to check for changes.
I know a lot of women are unsure about self breast exams. They aren't sure what to be looking for--what's normal and what's not. They aren't sure exactly how it's done. I found a very helpful 3 minute video on how to perform a self breast exam that can be viewed by click the following link: Self Breast Examination
For further information on self-breast exams, visit the following websites:
- http://imaginis.com/breasthealth/bse.asp
- http://www.doctorshospital.org/bodymayo.cfm?id=6&action=detail&ref=2369&hr=Healthy%20Living&topic=Women's%20Health&subtopic=General
- http://www.nationalbreastcancer.org/early_detection/index.html
And ... Some personal tips:
- Become familiar with the feeling of your breasts and look for changes. If you do self-exams regularly you will come to know the natural feeling of your breasts, which may include some normal lumpiness or bumps. Many women say "But mine feel lumpy anyway, so how do you know?" You are looking for changes in the normal feeling of your breasts, which will become more distinguishable if you know how they normally look and feel.
- A cancerous lump will be a hard bump within the tissue that is fixed in one spot. Cysts (non-cancerous lumps) can often be moved.
- Painful lumps are less likely to be cancerous. Cancerous breast lumps are usually not painful at all.
- Examine your breasts just after your period, when they are less likly to be swollen or tender from hormonal changes.
- Do the exam at the same time every month.
- If you are over 40, use mammography to your advantage. Mammography is still the best way to detect breast cancer and it is a service you are lucky to have available to you. Younger women need to rely on clinical and self-exams, but women over 40 can use a combination of mammogram, clinical exam, and self-exam to detect breast cancer as early as possible.
- If you find a lump, don't panic. Most of the time lumps are benign, cystic, or the result of natural changes in breast tissue or hormonal changes. But also be proactive and be sure to discuss any changes with your doctor.
I hope you found this post useful. Remember, know your breasts. It could save your life!
Self Breast Exams: Polls
Ladies: Since we're on the topic of self breast exams, I've added a couple quick polls about self breast exams. Put your two cents worth in!!!
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Sunday, February 11, 2007
The Trials and Tribulations of Mastectomies
I had a small scare this week when I noticed a small red circle beginning on my mastectomy scar and protruding upwards about .5cms. It was moreso a mark than a bump. But, why would a red mark suddenly be forming on the mastectomy scar four months after the operation? The scar had already healed and was even fading in colour now. It had to mean something. As soon as I noticed the mark, I went to the internet to find some answers. What is a local recurrence? When does a local recurrence normally happen? What does it look like? I found out that local recurrence (a recurrence in the breast where cancer was already removed) happens in 10% of patients who had a lumpectomy and 1% of patients who had a mastectomy. It usually happens within the first 3-5 years and is normally a result of cancer cells that were 'left behind' after surgery (in other words, an unsuccessful surgery). In those who have had a lumpectomy, local recurrence normally presents itself in the form of another lump in the breast. In mastectomy patients, it will normally be a lump on the chest wall OR redness/ blistering/ bump at the mastectomy scar.
OH NO. What if this is a recurrence? This would be EXACTLY my luck. A thousands thoughts trickled through my mind. My heart fluttered. I showed my mother the mark. I showed my father the mark. I showed Mike the mark. All of them thought it was noticeable and that I should mention it to the doctor, but none of them seemed to think I should be overly concerned about it. My mind raced. I checked my appointment book. February 8th, 9:45 am: appointment with Dr. Butler. Perfect. I decided that I would not rush this and overreact because it would really do nothing for me anyway. Because I am still technically on chemotherapy, my cell counts are too low for for me to receive an operation. So, if the doctors were to discover that I had a local recurrence, there would be nothing they could do about it until well after my treatment ended anyway. I may as well try and forget about it, relax, and just ask Dr. Butler next week when I see him.
As the week passed, the redness of the mark diminished, as did my nervousness. I went into the appointment confidently to meet with Dr. Butler. The first thing he wanted to do was give me a breast exam and take a look at the scar to be sure it was healing properly. Perfect. I showed him the mark immediately and his only reply was: "Nope that's normal ... just a bit of scar tissue forming there that's all. Nothing at all to worry about." Ahhhh. I could take a deep breath and be happy. I am assuming this will be the first of many MANY scares I will have in the years ahead of me. Recovering, both mentally and physically, and dealing with the remnants of this disease, is a whole battle in its own.
Dr. Butler was then interested in knowing more about the letter he received from Dr. MacCormick, which was about my interest in receiving a prophylactic mastectomy of the right breast. He told me, just as Dr. MacCormick did, that this was something I would need to decide on my own, but he would be supportive of whatever decision I would make. He went on to say that if I do decide that this is the way I want to go, that he would try to arrange a mastectomy with immediate reconstruction, something which is quite rare in this geographic location. Dr. Butler had previously told me that this type of surgery didn't happen around here because they simply did not have the resources available. So, he was once again going above and beyond for me. I felt so grateful. Dr. Butler has done so much for me since all this began.
What does this mean? Dr. Butler would make arrangements so that he, Dr. Atiyah (the plastic surgeon), and the anesthesist would all meet in the OR for my arranged operation. Dr. Butler would remove the breast and, immediately following, (under the same anesthetic) Dr. Atiyah would insert the implants to begin the breast reconstruction. This would save me an extra operation and the negative effects of being under anesthetic too often. It would also get the most difficult part of the reconstruction out of the way. To read in more detail about the type of reconstructive surgery Dr. Atiyah has suggested for me, read the post Twins or Sisters?
Dr. Butler suggested having the surgery sometime in the next 3-6 months, between June and August, so we scheduled another appointment for May, when we will discuss my intentions and a specific surgery date further.
When I left the appointment I felt very relieved and even excited. The appointment made me feel more like I was moving on, and Dr. Butler's reassurance that Dr. Atiyah's work is excellent and the results look very nice made me anxious to have the procedure. As I thought about things more and more, I came to the conclusion that a prophylactic mastecomy and reconstruction would provide me with the most peace of mind for my future. And, being reassured that after receiving this surgery I could still have breasts (although not natural), made me feel all the more confident in my decision.
OH NO. What if this is a recurrence? This would be EXACTLY my luck. A thousands thoughts trickled through my mind. My heart fluttered. I showed my mother the mark. I showed my father the mark. I showed Mike the mark. All of them thought it was noticeable and that I should mention it to the doctor, but none of them seemed to think I should be overly concerned about it. My mind raced. I checked my appointment book. February 8th, 9:45 am: appointment with Dr. Butler. Perfect. I decided that I would not rush this and overreact because it would really do nothing for me anyway. Because I am still technically on chemotherapy, my cell counts are too low for for me to receive an operation. So, if the doctors were to discover that I had a local recurrence, there would be nothing they could do about it until well after my treatment ended anyway. I may as well try and forget about it, relax, and just ask Dr. Butler next week when I see him.
As the week passed, the redness of the mark diminished, as did my nervousness. I went into the appointment confidently to meet with Dr. Butler. The first thing he wanted to do was give me a breast exam and take a look at the scar to be sure it was healing properly. Perfect. I showed him the mark immediately and his only reply was: "Nope that's normal ... just a bit of scar tissue forming there that's all. Nothing at all to worry about." Ahhhh. I could take a deep breath and be happy. I am assuming this will be the first of many MANY scares I will have in the years ahead of me. Recovering, both mentally and physically, and dealing with the remnants of this disease, is a whole battle in its own.
Dr. Butler was then interested in knowing more about the letter he received from Dr. MacCormick, which was about my interest in receiving a prophylactic mastectomy of the right breast. He told me, just as Dr. MacCormick did, that this was something I would need to decide on my own, but he would be supportive of whatever decision I would make. He went on to say that if I do decide that this is the way I want to go, that he would try to arrange a mastectomy with immediate reconstruction, something which is quite rare in this geographic location. Dr. Butler had previously told me that this type of surgery didn't happen around here because they simply did not have the resources available. So, he was once again going above and beyond for me. I felt so grateful. Dr. Butler has done so much for me since all this began.
What does this mean? Dr. Butler would make arrangements so that he, Dr. Atiyah (the plastic surgeon), and the anesthesist would all meet in the OR for my arranged operation. Dr. Butler would remove the breast and, immediately following, (under the same anesthetic) Dr. Atiyah would insert the implants to begin the breast reconstruction. This would save me an extra operation and the negative effects of being under anesthetic too often. It would also get the most difficult part of the reconstruction out of the way. To read in more detail about the type of reconstructive surgery Dr. Atiyah has suggested for me, read the post Twins or Sisters?
Dr. Butler suggested having the surgery sometime in the next 3-6 months, between June and August, so we scheduled another appointment for May, when we will discuss my intentions and a specific surgery date further.
When I left the appointment I felt very relieved and even excited. The appointment made me feel more like I was moving on, and Dr. Butler's reassurance that Dr. Atiyah's work is excellent and the results look very nice made me anxious to have the procedure. As I thought about things more and more, I came to the conclusion that a prophylactic mastecomy and reconstruction would provide me with the most peace of mind for my future. And, being reassured that after receiving this surgery I could still have breasts (although not natural), made me feel all the more confident in my decision.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Viva La Musica!
Music- that liquid beauty that seeps into our hearts, our minds, our ears, our fingertips and that drips from our lips and our tears.
Since I was a young girl of 5, I have been using music as an outlet ... so much that it has come to define me over the years. Growing up in a household of trained musicians and music lovers, it started with mere exposure to everything and anything from classical, to jazz, to rock and roll. Little did I realize how profound an effect all this exposure would have on my little untrained ears. Here I am, after 20 years of training in piano and various other instrutments, a music degree, and lots of experience performing and teaching that art I call mine. During my training in music, I became so engulfed in the academic and stressful side of it all that I began to lose sight of the true reason I ever decided to extend the training I had and enjoyment I once knew and make it a profession. Music was no longer simple--it was a whole other system, a whole other language, a whole other discipline ... most of which I had yet to embrace, even after the 15 years of training I receieved before entering university. As Aaron Copland once said: "Most people use music as a couch; they want to be pillowed on it, relaxed and consoled for the stress of daily living. But serious music was never meant to be soporific." This is the type of thinking that continued to present itself throughout my university years.
All that has come full circle for me since this crazy war was waged back in September. I was able to take a step back and allow music to give back to me ... and boy did it help. I have been turning to music more and more to deal with stress, to relate, and as a form of meditation, whether it be through singing, playing the piano or guitar, or through listening to music. I remember writing a whole chapter in my honours thesis back at Dalhousie U in 2004 about the relationship between music and self-expression, emotion, and feeling. I had no idea what I was writing about until now! Music has the power to ease or minds, touch our hearts, and speak to our souls. It is a therapy which we should all embrace in times like these (take that, Aaron Copland!).
So, although I have found myself complaining at times that I may have "wasted" the past year musicially simply because I was not teaching, studying, or performing, I now choose to look at my "break" from professional activity in music as a chance to regain my love for it and to use it to my personal advantage. It certinaly has helped me through some very tough times.
With all that said, I have decided to add an mp3 player to The Pink Diaries, through which I will play some of the music I enjoy that has helped me along this crazy journey. Some of the songs/ pieces are simply therapeutic, while other have lyrics I cannot help but relate to. You can simply turn the player off (just press the stop button!) if it is an annoyance.
Hope you enjoy!
"Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken." ~Ludwig van Beethoven
Since I was a young girl of 5, I have been using music as an outlet ... so much that it has come to define me over the years. Growing up in a household of trained musicians and music lovers, it started with mere exposure to everything and anything from classical, to jazz, to rock and roll. Little did I realize how profound an effect all this exposure would have on my little untrained ears. Here I am, after 20 years of training in piano and various other instrutments, a music degree, and lots of experience performing and teaching that art I call mine. During my training in music, I became so engulfed in the academic and stressful side of it all that I began to lose sight of the true reason I ever decided to extend the training I had and enjoyment I once knew and make it a profession. Music was no longer simple--it was a whole other system, a whole other language, a whole other discipline ... most of which I had yet to embrace, even after the 15 years of training I receieved before entering university. As Aaron Copland once said: "Most people use music as a couch; they want to be pillowed on it, relaxed and consoled for the stress of daily living. But serious music was never meant to be soporific." This is the type of thinking that continued to present itself throughout my university years.
All that has come full circle for me since this crazy war was waged back in September. I was able to take a step back and allow music to give back to me ... and boy did it help. I have been turning to music more and more to deal with stress, to relate, and as a form of meditation, whether it be through singing, playing the piano or guitar, or through listening to music. I remember writing a whole chapter in my honours thesis back at Dalhousie U in 2004 about the relationship between music and self-expression, emotion, and feeling. I had no idea what I was writing about until now! Music has the power to ease or minds, touch our hearts, and speak to our souls. It is a therapy which we should all embrace in times like these (take that, Aaron Copland!).
So, although I have found myself complaining at times that I may have "wasted" the past year musicially simply because I was not teaching, studying, or performing, I now choose to look at my "break" from professional activity in music as a chance to regain my love for it and to use it to my personal advantage. It certinaly has helped me through some very tough times.
With all that said, I have decided to add an mp3 player to The Pink Diaries, through which I will play some of the music I enjoy that has helped me along this crazy journey. Some of the songs/ pieces are simply therapeutic, while other have lyrics I cannot help but relate to. You can simply turn the player off (just press the stop button!) if it is an annoyance.
Hope you enjoy!
"Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken." ~Ludwig van Beethoven
Sunday, February 04, 2007
The Nurses of the CB Cancer Centre
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Chemo 4 (My final treatment!!!)
So far the fourth treatment has been the easiest to deal with. The first day (Thursday) was the hardest, unlike past treatments. I spent most of the evening feeling nauseous and unwell and ended the night with a bout of vomiting. Friday I decided to take it as easy as possible and spent most of the day in bed resting. I ate as much as I could and drank a glass of water each hour. I experienced some mild periods of nausea, but nothing I couldn't handle. The worst part of the day was a serious splitting headache which, at the time, I labelled to be the worst headache I ever had. I took some Tylenol and lay a cold cloth over my forehead and within an hour or so it had eased up significantly.
Today is day #3 and the symptoms have been very bearable. I woke up to a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, orange juice, and fruit, which Mike made for me. The breakfast got me off to a great start and I found myself able to get up and clean the kitchen and my bedroom, get a shower, and go out for a drive. This was a major leap in comparison to the third day of all previous treatments. The afternoon was, very thankfully, passed quite quickly. The faster I can get this overwith, the better.
I'm not sure why this treatment seems to be more well tolerated than others. Perhaps my body is building a tolerance for the drug. Perhaps it is my mindset. I have also come up with the theory that perhaps vomiting on the first day, rather than prolonging it, helped a little. Forcing myself to drink water every hour must also be helping to flush and cleanse my body.
So far, so good ... let's cross our fingers!
Today is day #3 and the symptoms have been very bearable. I woke up to a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, orange juice, and fruit, which Mike made for me. The breakfast got me off to a great start and I found myself able to get up and clean the kitchen and my bedroom, get a shower, and go out for a drive. This was a major leap in comparison to the third day of all previous treatments. The afternoon was, very thankfully, passed quite quickly. The faster I can get this overwith, the better.
I'm not sure why this treatment seems to be more well tolerated than others. Perhaps my body is building a tolerance for the drug. Perhaps it is my mindset. I have also come up with the theory that perhaps vomiting on the first day, rather than prolonging it, helped a little. Forcing myself to drink water every hour must also be helping to flush and cleanse my body.
So far, so good ... let's cross our fingers!
The Beginning of the End
As if "the unexpected" hadn't already taken its toll enough, Thursday's pre-chemo appointment presented even more surprises. With my bloodwork done, I was met once again my one of the cancer centre nurses, who asked, yet again, if I could stay today to receive my final chemo treatment instead of coming in tomorrow. There was a possibility of another storm tomorrow and they had lots of chairs available today. An exact repeat of last week? I think so. But, yet, I was not surprised. I was becoming used to things happening exactly how I did NOT expect them to. After waiting all week for chemo, and wanting to see the end of it all more than ever, I now accepted the offer with open arms. If my cell counts are high enough, I will happily do my last treatment today.
Sure enough, my cell counts were now at a satisfactory level and the doctor gave the 'go ahead' for me to receive treatment a day early. Thursday, February 1st. The beginning of the end.
Everything happened quickly from then. I receieved the chemo as I always did, this time partially alone, however, as Mike and my family tried to hurry in at the last minute, not knowing that I would be receiving chemo that day. I spent the first hour or so alone, but it wasn't so bad. All that filled my mind were thoughts of the future and how this day was essential for me to finally move on. All I could picture was teaching, socialiazing, exercising, moving into my new apartment with Mike, and doing normal everyday things that I used to do. At this point I could bear whatever came to me in order to get all of those things back.
Soon enough I was heading home once again to deal with the brutal effects of the poison which dwelled within me for the past few months ... for the last time.
Sure enough, my cell counts were now at a satisfactory level and the doctor gave the 'go ahead' for me to receive treatment a day early. Thursday, February 1st. The beginning of the end.
Everything happened quickly from then. I receieved the chemo as I always did, this time partially alone, however, as Mike and my family tried to hurry in at the last minute, not knowing that I would be receiving chemo that day. I spent the first hour or so alone, but it wasn't so bad. All that filled my mind were thoughts of the future and how this day was essential for me to finally move on. All I could picture was teaching, socialiazing, exercising, moving into my new apartment with Mike, and doing normal everyday things that I used to do. At this point I could bear whatever came to me in order to get all of those things back.
Soon enough I was heading home once again to deal with the brutal effects of the poison which dwelled within me for the past few months ... for the last time.
Friday, February 02, 2007
The light at the end of the tunnel??? Where?!
"Tomorrow" (Jan. 26th) arrived and I went into the hospital amidst the commencing blizzard for my second round of blood work in 2 days. The nurse told me to head back home and they would call me with the results within the hour ... hopefully my white bloods cells would have boosted up that one extra point since yesterday so that I could get chemo and finally see the 'beginning of the end' of this horrible nightmare.
I did as she said and went home to wait for the phonecall. Two hours later (did I mention that hospitals work on their own strange clocks?) they called me back. "Melanie, we got the results of your CBC back. Your white bloodcells were actually just slightly lower than yesterday, so we're going to have to hold off until next week for your chemo." Numbness overcame me. A hundred thoughts raced through my mind. My white blood cells are LOWER than yesterday??? Did I take all those dreadful needles every night for NOTHING? Another WEEK??? Why can't it be in a few days or something? I tried to gather my thoughts. I said: "But I am on Neupogen. How is it possible for my white cells to be that low on Neupogen?" The other end was silent and the nurse replied that she wasn't sure: "Maybe they will have to give you a higher dose next time." I continued: "Does it have to be next week? Like, can't I come in on Monday or something?" She replied: "No, that's how long the white bloods cells normally take to reach the level where we want them to be." I could only hang up the phone in disguist and accept yet another unexpected stroke of bad luck.
I felt so awful. You couldn't begin to understand how much I wanted to get this overwith and move on with my life. This would be two weeks of chemo that were delayed due to Nuetropenia (low white blood cells). Two weeks may seem quick, but when you are suffering through chemotherapy it can seem like an eternity. The end just seemed to be even more unattainable, as if I would never reach it.
I went around the house mumbling and grumbling all day. My dad said: "Melanie, this is awful, but let's just try ot see the positive side of this." Losing all sense of positivity and practically abandoning my own self-motto, I replied: "What could possibly be positive about this?" "You get to spend the rest of this week feeling healthy and can put off being sick until next week." With that perfectly satisfactory idea I decided to take advantage of the wellness I was experiencing for the rest of the week. I took the opportunity to practise the guitar and piano, do some visiting, cook and eat all kinds of delicious food, and get some things done that I needed to do. Before I knew it next week was here and I was heading back into the hospital to do the exact routine I did last week, hopefully for the last time.
I did as she said and went home to wait for the phonecall. Two hours later (did I mention that hospitals work on their own strange clocks?) they called me back. "Melanie, we got the results of your CBC back. Your white bloodcells were actually just slightly lower than yesterday, so we're going to have to hold off until next week for your chemo." Numbness overcame me. A hundred thoughts raced through my mind. My white blood cells are LOWER than yesterday??? Did I take all those dreadful needles every night for NOTHING? Another WEEK??? Why can't it be in a few days or something? I tried to gather my thoughts. I said: "But I am on Neupogen. How is it possible for my white cells to be that low on Neupogen?" The other end was silent and the nurse replied that she wasn't sure: "Maybe they will have to give you a higher dose next time." I continued: "Does it have to be next week? Like, can't I come in on Monday or something?" She replied: "No, that's how long the white bloods cells normally take to reach the level where we want them to be." I could only hang up the phone in disguist and accept yet another unexpected stroke of bad luck.
I felt so awful. You couldn't begin to understand how much I wanted to get this overwith and move on with my life. This would be two weeks of chemo that were delayed due to Nuetropenia (low white blood cells). Two weeks may seem quick, but when you are suffering through chemotherapy it can seem like an eternity. The end just seemed to be even more unattainable, as if I would never reach it.
I went around the house mumbling and grumbling all day. My dad said: "Melanie, this is awful, but let's just try ot see the positive side of this." Losing all sense of positivity and practically abandoning my own self-motto, I replied: "What could possibly be positive about this?" "You get to spend the rest of this week feeling healthy and can put off being sick until next week." With that perfectly satisfactory idea I decided to take advantage of the wellness I was experiencing for the rest of the week. I took the opportunity to practise the guitar and piano, do some visiting, cook and eat all kinds of delicious food, and get some things done that I needed to do. Before I knew it next week was here and I was heading back into the hospital to do the exact routine I did last week, hopefully for the last time.
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