Dear Pre-Cancer Me 

This week What's Next had an interesting post on Facebook asking cancer survivors what they would write to their pre-cancer self if they had the chance. I shared the post and wrote a shortened version of what I decided would be a good blog post here.

 Dear pre-cancer me,

You are enough. Please don't let negative people bring you down. Those that don't appreciate you for the smart, generous and loving person that you are don't deserve you. Let them go. Surround yourself with positive nurturing people who truly want what's best for you. Reciprocate by being there for them. This may not be easy, but your body's good health will be the ultimate reward.

Wake up feeling grateful, and give thanks for the wonderful day that is about to unfold before you. Be thankful for your family, your children and your loving pets. Believe that you are exactly where you should be at this time, and that you will never face any situation you can't handle.

Take some time to smell the roses. Life is not a race. There is absolutely no rush to get to the end. Savour the moment and sing in the rain. Celebrate your successes and bask in the lessons you learn through your failures. Don't be so hard on yourself. You don't have to be your own worst critic. Be as gentle to yourself as you would be with your dearest friend.

Life is not about the things you have, but the moments you make. The people you impress with the things you have are not the ones who will be there for you on the rainy days. Create your memories with the people you cherish the most. The ones who love you unconditionally.  

Love the work that you do. So many hours are spent on the job, that it is essential to do what inspires you and makes you happy. As with your personal life, don't waste your time in a negative workplace. Those that can't work in an atmosphere of support, encouragement and sharing of ideas should not have the privilege of working with you.

Most of all have a blast! Try new things. Challenge yourself. Walk on that sandy beach. Ride those waves.  Don't sweat the small stuff and always live in the moment. It's all there.

With love and snuggles. xo




The Seven Year Itch

Last August marked seven years since I had the mastectomies and reconstruction. January marked seven years since I finished chemotherapy. Since then I have had four more surgeries related to my breast cancer diagnosis and initial treatments. The last one happened at the end of November 2012.
There are so many phases to suvivorship. They differ depending on how one reacts to the inital diagnosis and how they handle treatment. It may also depend on the relationship the patient has with their medical team, and the habits they develop as survivors.
All patients feel some letdown following the completion of treatment. While going through surgery, physiotherapy and susequent treatment; whether chemotherapy, radiation therapy or both, a patient is kept busy, and your mind is dedicated to "winning" the battle. You are left on your own after that, with only two to four visits to see your oncologist per year.
And perhaps that's where I can comment on the not so small subleties of the changes that occur, the further you get from your diagnosis and treatment. I no longer see this as "winning the battle". I see it more at putting my body at ease. My body was not healthy, and was diseased when they found the cancer. The initial diagnosis was DCIS in situ, and I was told that it was the best cancer I could get. I'm not sure if doctors say this as a sort of consolation prize after telling a patient the bad news, but it didn't seem to work for me. I was young; only 45 years old, with three young girls who needed their mother.
My initial diagnosis was made in April 2007. I had my first surgery that same month; a lumpectomy. My oncologist was hoping to remove all the cancer at that time, based on the results from my ultra sound and infrared testing. Unfortunately the margins were not clear, and I was faced with the decision of either going back for another lumpectomy, with the hope that the margins would be clear at that point, or a mastectomy. I chose the latter. By the time I had surgery; over three months later, the cancer was not only all over the right breast, but it had started forming into a tumour and was moving through my lymph nodes. All I can say, is that given this is a a slow moving cancer, by my oncologist's standards, my body was probably dis-eased for a few years before diagnosis.
So why, do you ask, did I title this blog post "The Seven Year Itch"? It's because being a cancer survivor is a title we have had bestowed on us for the rest of our lives. There are days we use it for good things and there are days we wish we never had it. Luckily the self pity parties are few and far between for me. I nevertheless need to say that the more time that is put between a cancer diagnosis, and therefore adds to my cancer survivorship, the more I have put in time to delve into my inner soul to figure out why my body became dis-eased in the first place.
I have mentioned in my blog posts before....Cancer happens for a reason. I initially thought that it was for a good reason, and I still believe this to be true today; but for different reasons. It enabled me to see through people more clearly, to weed out the people in my life who were only there for the sunny days anyway. It helped me be centered and start new habits of meditation and inner soul searching. It helped me live in the day and not in the past or the future. It helped me appreciate and be more grateful. These are all good things, but the real work starts when you have to clear all those roadblocks that initially caused the dis-ease in your body to start with. They can be more easily seen through regular meditation and soul searching, but one has to be realistic when confronted with the truth. I call these more profound realizations the cancer survivor's seven year itch.
My surviorship has reached a new level, and so have I. The true work has just begun.

A Tribute to Jim Flaherty and All Who Have Come Before and Will Come After Him

As I was writing a decision this afternoon, I thought of the funeral that was about to happen for a person I was fortunate enough to see on a regular basis over a number of years. Not fortunate to have known terribly well, but grateful to have on the same team. 
He was a person who grew up in the same neighbourhood as I did; the suburbs of Montreal. He eventually moved into the same profession as I did; politics. Having left Quebec, he eventually ended up in provincial politics in Ontario. I worked for cabinet ministers and MNAs in Quebec. He as an elected official, and I not for the lack of trying, as a staffer. We eventually gravitated to Federal politics and both ended up in Ottawa. Again, he as an elected official and eventually Minister, and I, again not for the lack of trying, as a staffer. 
He is the late Honourable Jim Flaherty.
The work of a politician, and those who work as their loyal staffers is often misunderstood. People just don't get what we do; even those closest to us. Because it's a profession that's misunderstood it's also open for criticism. Our profession is tough. We are open for partisan attacks on a regular basis. We suffer the wrath of those who do not agree with our policy or opinion. However difficult this can be.....we are only human.....we are strong with our convictions and work hard to accomplish what we believe in. Those that succeed and are liked get into the business for all the right reasons. We think we can make a difference. We are not in it for ourselves, but are in it for others. We believe we have something to offer. Something that will better the lives of those who live in our communities. We have the calling of public service.
This is the case of the short, free spirited Irishman that I got to know from afar. He worked hard and lead by example. He fought for the underdog and did what he thought was best for Canadians. He had friends in the greatest and most elite of international financial circles, and was the hero of those who could not fend for themselves.
We have another thing in common as well. He was afflicted with a rare skin ailment and I with cancer. We both worked through our illness and treatment, and gave our all to our political family and to Canadians; regardless of the pain and fatigue.  Sadly, having just resigned from such a stressful and busy life, Minister Flaherty would not live to enjoy some of the many pleasures life would have waiting for him. I am no longer part of that world either, but I am still working for Canadians through public service in another way. 
And herein lies the heartache for the loss of someone who was suddenly taken from us, after giving so much of himself, and at a time when he was free to give his time to those that counted the most. Your contributions will not be forgotten. Thank you, and rest in peace.



Growing is Key to Cancer Survivorship

I have been writing about cancer surviorship and running for over four years now, and sometimes I find it hard to believe. When I first started writing the ideas just flowed from me. I was still a "fresh" cancer survivor, with the experience still etched in my mind. This year, in August,  I will be seven years cancer free.  The experience of the double mastectomies and chemotherapy are further behind me. In a way I have made peace with it. I am also a more experienced runner.

Looking back, I think the start of this was therapeutic. It was good for the soul to let out all that emotion while feeling I could help others. I suppose it was either writing or succombing to my emotions in other less constructive ways.

And so I chose to write.

There was much to write about during those early days. Topics that are obvious to a cancer survivor, through experience, but really important information to have for a patient about to start chemotherapy.  Take, for example, the steroids that a cancer patient must take prior to a round of chemotherapy. They are prescribed, in part, to help control nausea; a side effect of the treatment. When I started treatment, I too was on steroids prior to treatment.  Once over, I went home feeling like superwoman. I could rule the world, go for a five kilometre run, make a gourmet dinner and clean every nook and cranny in the house in half a day.  I had eight arms. I was a queen! I rocked!

This great energy lasted for less than 48 hours, after which I came crashing down from my throne. By then, after my first of eight treatments,  I recall one dinner with my family where I burst into tears and said that I didn't think I was going to be able to make it through my treatment. You should know that I am definately not the type of person that gets depressed like this. 

If the professionals at the hospital would have told me to expect this crash after treatment, I wouldn't have been taken by surprise. Instead, I was overwhelmed, and frightened.

And so I write for those who are in the same situation. Those who are vulnerable and scared. Those who turn to the internet and social media for information from other survivors who have already been there. A place where cancer patients can find a shoulder to lean on. A place where they can voice their fear and their pain. 

As time goes on, the emotional need is lessened, and the passion of survivorship takes somewhat of a back seat to a sense of contentment and peace. Now the work of the first few years of survivorship is done, and it's time to refine it. Since my promotion to the illustrious role of cancer survivor, I have changed as a person. I have learned how to respect myself and put myself first (although I have been known to regress from time to time...). I know the importance of taking time outs, and listening to the wisdom of my inner voice. I have learned, and deeply appreciate, how to meditate. In short, my perspective in life has completely changed.

I even see people in a different way. I'm more open to talk to strangers and smile at those who need a little pick me up in their day. As I look at the faces of strangers, I sometimes wonder what's behind their mask. Are they happy or suffering? I always send good thoughts their way.

And on my many hours of travel by train to my work, I meditate or read....From inspirational stories to those that make you laugh. This is my learning platform. A platform from which I will continue to grow.

So I believe I have come to a new phase of survivorship. One that is exciting, challenging and gratifying. One that still has many lessons to teach. One where listening is key. One that I would be honoured if you continue to run beside me on this amazing journey .




Making Strides on World Cancer Day

Today is World Cancer Day. A day that means different things to different people. For some it's an opportunity to highlight what their healthcare organizations do to benefit cancer patients. For others it highlights fundraising or research successes.

But for the average cancer patient or survivor, it brings up mixed emotions. It's not really something we want to think about, but we can't really help it, with all the newspaper and television headlines there to remind us.

Things sure have changed in the six years since I had the mastectomies. Research has come a long way, and cancer organizations such as the Army of Women have really helped gather women from all over to tell their stories and relate their experiences. More women have participated in medical trials as a result.

There's also a much bigger emphasis on the importance of exercise than ever before. Exercise is important, not only for those of us that have been through cancer and have now hung our cap on the survivor peg, but as a form of prevention as well. The clinic where I was first diagnosed with cancer didn’t even whisper the word exercise back in 2007, but they are now strongly encouraging their patients to participate regularly as a form of prevention. This warms my heart, as I know all too well the benefits of exercise; even while going through chemo. Although some patients may be too tired to run or do another form of exercise while undergoing chemo, and it's always best to listen to your body, I found that running during my treatment made me less tired and helped tremendously with my energy levels.

Another improvement in the cancer survivor's world is the vast amount of information about healthy eating. Changing bad eating habits is so important, and there are many cookbooks out there that can inspire it. Check out Kris Carr's blog and cookbooks for some really fine inspiration. A cancer survivor herself, she keeps cancer abay partly by eating the right foods, and sharing her ideas in a fun and witty way. She put a smile on my face with her first book “Crazy Sexy Cancer”; a book I received it as a gift when I was first diagnosed.

And to inspire us to change the way we see a medical diagnosis, Lissa Rankin, a medical doctor herself, has some new and innovative ways of treatment. I’m sure she will go a long way to revolutionize standard medical treatment!

And last, but not least, my running hero, Kristin Armstrong, whose love of the sport and quirky way of tying it into her everyday family life is also inspiring. Her Runner’s World blog, Mile Markers, highlights the highs and lows of a long distance runner in training. Recently one of her blogs highlighted the thrill of pinning on a race bib. For anyone who has done this, you know what I mean. I can’t adequately explain the feeling when you take your bib; number and name, and proudly pin it on the front of your race shirt for all to see. It symbolizes the many kilometres of running, the several hours of meditation done on a peaceful solitary run outside, and the accomplishment of your person. And what is my best race day bib? The 26.2 With Donna, in Jacksonville, Florida; a run for cancer.

So on this World Cancer Day I may not want to see all those “c” words around me, but I sure am proud of the strides our collective community has taken to better our whole person. The people I mentioned in this blog are some of my heroes, and ones I tend to read regularly, however there are many more out there, including the hard working professionals on Oncology wards in hospitals around the World. One could not finish commemorating this fine day without thanking her homegrown hero, and pivot nurse at St Mary's Hospital in Montreal, Dail Jacob.  

There's a wealth of innovative knowledge at our fingertips and it's encouraging to see the direction we are going in. The future is sure looking bright!