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Angelina Jolie's Brave Decision

2013-05-15T16:14:26Z

When Angelina Jolie's opinion piece came out in the New York Times yesterday, revealing that she had a double mastectomy followed by reconstruction, as a result of testing positive for the BRCA1 gene, there was a lot of discussion and chatter by various media outlets and by social media.

I applaud Jolie for her bravery and willingness to share her experience with the public. By doing this, she will be able to shed a greater light on breast cancer in general, and its genetic issues. Knowledge is power, and anyone going through a battle with breast cancer knows that you need to stay well informed in order to make the best decisions for your own case.
As a mother of three daughters, I can also understand where her mind was when she received the bad news. No, she didn't have breast cancer. But she had pretty high odds of getting it. With the passing of her mother, as a result of breast cancer, and at such a young age, there is no doubt in my mind how difficult it must have been to think of her own children, and the unenviable position she found herself in.
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, six years ago, I was not aware of the extent of my family's history with the disease. I knew that one of my aunts had ovarian cancer, and that another also had breast cancer, but after my first surgery, a lumpectomy, more family members came out of the woodwork. As the margins were not clear after the initial surgery for the lumpectomy, I had to go back for more surgery, and had to decide whether I would have another lumpectomy or, as there were no guarantees they'd get all the cancer on the second try, go in for the mastectomy.
It was during the days of contemplation prior to my decision that I heard that not only did I have two cousins that were diagnosed with cancer when they were in their forties, five out of seven of my father's sisters had been diagnosed with breast cancer, another sister had passed away from ovarian cancer, and two out of four brothers had prostate cancer.
My decision became much more crucial. I had already decided to go for a full mastectomy, but now I needed to think of the other breast as well. It was also recommended that I go for genetic testing.
After a few months of testing and waiting for an operation date, I had a double mastectomy and reconstruction. It was a gruelling ten and a half hour operation that, first, had my oncology team in to remove the breasts, the cancer and test my lymph nodes for any sign of cancer cells that could be spreading. The second part of the operation had my plastic surgeon's team reconstructing my breasts, using tissue from my abdomen; in more medical terms, a tram flap.
It was a few years following this operation that I started genetic testing. Much of this involves a detailed family history, so that doctors can determine whether or not it's worthwhile going through the blood tests that would indicate whether I was a carrier of the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene. My decision to go through with the genetic testing was partly for myself, and partly because I had three daughters, and two sisters who would benefit from the information contained in my results. If I was a gene carrier, I would have a much higher chance of getting ovarian cancer, and would have another difficult decision to make. My daughters would have a much higher chance of acquiring breast cancer as well, and would be in the same situation that Jolie found herself in.
The decision was made to go through with the blood tests. I would be called back in a few weeks to get my results. During this time there were many things that went through my mind. I would have to decide, sooner rather than later, that I would have a full hysterectomy.
And I was scared; not only for myself.
I was scared for my daughters, still so young, and their futures. What if breast cancer hits them even earlier than it hit me? I thought of the implications of carrying one, or both, of these genes. Should I get life insurance for the girls? Should I get a safety deposit box and put the results in there, only to be taken out at a much later date? If my daughters were told that I was a gene carrier, they would not be eligible for life insurance in Canada. My sisters, who were already considered high risk, because of me, would have to be tested themselves.
Even while I was afraid, my logical self also thought that, at least, I would have a clearer picture of why I got breast cancer.
It was a beautiful, but cold, sunny day in February of this year that I went to the hospital to get my results. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. In my usual take charge way, I had mentally prepared myself for any bad news. Similar to the day that I was diagnosed with breast cancer, everything was moving in slow motion. I was in a daze, but remember things in vivid detail. I was on an emotional roller coaster as I sat in that hospital waiting room. Alone.
And it was with sweaty palms, like a prisoner in court awaiting the judge to read their verdict, that I sat across from the genetics councillor to get my results. After a few bits of information, that, frankly, I don't even remember, she said the words I longed to hear: you tested negative for both genes.
Relief cannot amply describe my feelings, at that point. The information that followed was a blur as well. And when I left, my results on one piece of paper, neatly folded in my purse, I sat in my car and cried. Tears of relief, tears of gratitude and tears of joy. The emotions that had been cooped up for many months spilled out on my steering wheel and down my winter coat.
I know how it feels to be there. And even if you're a movie star, those decisions remain the same.

Happy Mother's Day

2013-05-12T20:26:06Z

It has been six years since my life took a drastic change with my diagnosis of breast cancer. Back then I was a forty five year old that had finally started taking her health more seriously....I had started running, and was training for a half marathon. But I was also a workaholic, had more of a type A personality, had run for public office....twice, a superwoman....took care of all the children's activities and their various appointments, and tried to keep up with a social life while living in one city, and working in another.

Phew!!! I feel tired already!

Then came the day....a few months after I ran my first half marathon. Twenty pounds lighter than I was before I started running, I felt fantastic! I was in better shape than I had been since I was a competitive swimmer, track and field runner, and ballerina in my teens and early twenties. That day I lost some blood from a nipple on my right breast. It was a small amount....the size of a needle head....and I probably wouldn't have seen it, if I hadn't been wearing a white bra. That spot of blood would come and go, but never went away.

I knew something was wrong.

And in April of 2007 I heard the words, from my newly appointed oncologist, that nobody wants to hear...."You have cancer".

That's the day my life changed. I was dumbfounded, confused, mad, in denial and hurt....not physically, but mentally. How could this happen to me????? I had three daughters, aged thirteen, eleven, and seven at the time. My mother and one of my sisters lived seven hours away from me. The other sister was closer, but several hundred more miles away in other ways.

I felt alone.

These are real feelings felt by many cancer patients and survivors around the world. They come and they go.

They are more pronounced when first diagnosed. Once treatment starts, cancer patients tend to be vey concentrated on getting better, and are not as concerned with the feelings of isolation.

Once treatment is over, the feelings of depression and isolation tend to come back twofold. Many worry about what is to come next..... Suddenly the doctor visits go from two weeks to three months.

That is the bad side of cancer.

But there is another side to things. The one where the cancer patients decides in their mind that they are going to survive. The one where they start to really appreciate the small things in life. The one where family takes a truly special significance, and the people who have stuck around, not only through treatment,.....but more importantly....way after that...are an important part of your life. The one where you are incredibly grateful for your children, and you give thanks for them every day when you wake up. The one that uplifts you, almost to tears, when you are running the last kilometre of your half marathon. The one where you are sooooo happy to celebrate the special holidays with your family and loved ones beside you. The one where your are incredibly happy to be alive.

Nobody can feel this as much as a cancer survivor.

And that is what I'm feeling today. A mother, to three incredible daughters, a daughter to one incredible mother (who has been there for me through thick and thin), and a sister to one.....who is still very far away (but I hope will come closer one day), and one who is had become more and more close to my heart.

It's Mother's Day, and I have appreciated celebrating this day, more and more, since I have survived cancer.

This has been a wonderful weekend spent with my daughters. The first one since I have survived past five years. They have shown me how important I am to them too....by giving up much of their time to be there with me.

Thank you.

And to all mothers out there; whether cancer survivors, or not.....Be grateful, be happy, and enjoy your day immensely.

Change....It's Your Decision

2013-04-26T17:28:58Z

Recently, a good friend of mine wrote me, wanting to introduce me to an esteemed colleague, and friend, who has cancer. She wanted me to meet him, and felt I would have a lot to share with him. She spoke to him about me as well. She shared this blog, and my history.

And yesterday I met him for the first time.

I'm always a little nervous before I meet someone I don't know regarding something as personal and life changing as cancer.

But we instantly bonded, and the conversation was easy and flowed naturally. At first our discussion revolved around his particular case, and the decisions he would have to make for his treatment path, moving forward. Not an easy feat, to say the least.

As it is with all cancer patients, and survivors, we compared our individual experiences. Many of them are similar, with, perhaps, slightly different outcomes. For example, those who have had this disease have all gone through the inevitable natural selection of friends. In my case, one of my best friends of more than twenty years disappeared after my cancer diagnosis. On the other hand, some mere acquaintances; people I hardly knew, were there for me at every turn.

Following our discussion, I reflected on a few things. I have since accepted some of, what I perceived at the time, as "deceptions" from friends gone by, who were unable to handle the sad fact I was struck with the disease. Some people are just not equipped to handle the intense feelings and heartbreak of seeing a loved one who is sick. Others were of the absurd, yet completely real to them, impression that they could actually "catch" cancer from me. In any case, the people that surround me now, are the true souls who were there when I needed them. My life, as it is now, was simply meant to reflect the internal changes I went through on this truly remarkable journey.

It is these subtle, yet transformative changes in a cancer survivor that gives us our strength. People naturally resist and fear change. We are human beings that are just comfortable in what we know, and how we feel; no matter how toxic those feelings or situations may be. Lissa Rankin's Daily "Your Inner Pilot Light" spoke about change in today's edition: "We try to protect ourselves from change by clinging to what we cannot make unchangeable, then we mourn it....even when what we lost really didn't make us happy in the first place.

She concluded with " Change is inevitable. Suffering is optional."

This struck a cord in me, as a cancer survivor. Anyone who has had cancer, and anyone who has been with a cancer survivor through their journey, can attest to the fact that the disease is life transforming. It changes you.

I, as many of us, was afraid of change. I was scared, more than words can describe, the day I heard the words "you have cancer". In fact I went into immediate denial.

I'm too young.....I still have so much of my life to live......So much to do...What will my young children do without their mother?.....

I scratched, clawed and resisted any way I could. I cried. I wanted to cling to my old life; the healthier and carefree me.

Many of the survivors I know went though this as well.

However, what isn't always the case with every cancer survivor, is that I didn't really suffer. Yes I lost my hair to chemotherapy. I went through the terrible depression of coming down from the steroids I needed to take with every chemotherapy treatment. I had a severe allergic reaction to one of my chemotherapy treatments, and would have died, if not for the watchful eye of my mother, who had accompanied me that particular day. I went through a ten and a half hour operation, and four blood transfusions, to remove my breasts and have them reconstructed with skin from my abdomen. I saw the sorry looks from a thousand people; some who knew what to say, others who didn't. I had four subsequent operations following the first two....some that I couldn't anticipate or prepare for.

But through it all, I made a choice. I chose not to suffer. I chose to survive. I believed I'd be well.

So Lissa's wise words can be applied to us as well. We cannot change the fact that we got cancer. But we can decide whether we suffer. The mind is a very powerful tool in the art of overcoming a disease.

And suffering IS optional.

Welcome Back

2013-04-18T18:17:51Z

This week I did something that I hadn't done in longer than I'd like to admit. I went for a run. Now one would ask why I haven't gone out for a run in awhile; especially since I've been writing a blog on cancer survivorship and running over the past two and a half years.

A few months ago in mid-November I had my last surgery. It was the sixth surgery that I had related to my breast cancer diagnosis. When I had the double mastectomy in August of 2007, I also had reconstruction done at the same time, using tissue from another part of my body. The reconstruction was well done and I was very happy with it. Unfortunately, after time, and when everything had settled, the breast on the side I had cancer in became noticeably smaller. So for the past few years I have undergone a couple of surgeries to correct the situation.

Once this last surgery was over, I had the standard six week period of no exercise....running included. This brought me into the month of December, and the Christmas season. One thing led to another and before I could blink, the New Year had been rung in, and 2013 was off to its start.

And so there I was, in early January; one of the coldest months of the year, where I come from. The snow banks were huge, thanks to record snow falls in December, and my motivation was low. For some reason I cringed at the thought of putting on my coldest winter running gear, my ice grips and getting out the door.

And I have always loved running outdoors. No matter how cold, or what the weather forecast is.

But this year I didn't.

There are many reasons why, and none at the same time. Suffice it to say that a couple of months later, and a trip to Florida, I still wasn't out on the road.....or even a treadmill for that matter. Sure, I had been walking. I have two dogs, and I'm out with them all the time. There's nothing I like to do more at the beach than go for a long walk with a loved one. While in Florida walking was a daily occurrence.

Then came Monday, April 15th. The day of the Boston Marathon. Although I have never run it, I always get excited for those that are there. Having run several half marathons, I can easily imagine the excitement in the air, and the delighted anticipation of the runners at the start of the race.

And I put on my shoes and went for a run. It was fantastic and everything I had hoped for. Inspiration and hope for the future.

Then I returned home to the news from Boston. How horrible! Gut wrenching. My sympathies go out to the families who lost a loved one, and to all those innocent victims; runners, spectators, volunteers, race officials, and law enforcement, who were traumatized or injured as a result of this senseless act of terrorism. I hope they find the perpetrators, and that they receive their due punishment.

But the running world is strong and resilient. It reminds me of the world of cancer survivorship; a second family. There is a strong sense of camaraderie and friendship in both worlds. It's all about positivity and humility. Runners, like cancer survivors, stand up for one another. They lend support, encouragement and inspiration.

And so yesterday evening, in the middle of rush hour, across the Charles River, in the parking lot of a bar in Boston, a group of three hundred runners did a commemorative four mile run following a 26.2 (the number of miles in a marathon) moment of silence. Feisty and resilient, these runners sent out a clear message. You can't knock them down. Although this race was targeted, they wanted the world to know that nothing can stop a runner from what they love.

If I wasn't inspired to get back on the road then, I sure am now.

I'm back!

And I, too, will run another race!

Back to My Normal....or Where I Was All Along

2013-04-09T14:51:07Z

A few days ago I had my regular biannual appointment with my oncologist. Going on six years later, the process, strange as it seems, is still the same....... I get a case of the jitters, and start a list of topics I'd like to discuss with my doctor. In some circumstances I write my pivot nurse, Dail, and send the questions ahead of time so she can speak to my doctor, and have the answers ready for me when I get to his office. I see my doctor, ask the questions I want answered, and then go home, or to work, with a deep sense of relief that I'm OK.....in fact I feel like a rock star!

Prior to this appointment, there had been a few medical articles published regarding tamoxifen, the drug I'm on. When I started it, the prescription length was for five years. Medical specialists and researchers are starting to suggest a period closer to ten years instead. I wanted to have a discussion with my own physician regarding these most recent studies, and his suggested treatment for me.

I knew when I was driving over to the hospital that there was a possibility that I would have to remain on my medication for a longer time. At the same time, I was really......really....looking forward to coming off of it, and getting "back to normal". The behind the scenes story, and one that most people don't talk about, is that this medication is known as the twenty pound pill. Does every patient that takes it gain twenty pounds? Probably not. But I did.

And I wanted off of it. I wanted to run with that extra weight off. Imagine running, or walking, with that extra twenty pound sack of potatoes all the time.....

As with everything since being diagnosed with breast cancer, life is different, and the twists and turns that I have been subjected to in the past with this disease will continue in the disease free life that I know now. I left the hospital with the understanding that if I wasn't going to be on one pill, I'd be on another.

And I realized that the "normal" I was looking for was no longer my normal. It hasn't been my normal for six years now, when my new normal started.

In fact, my new normal is way better. Since I have been cancer free, I have gained a few friends, and lost others. I have changed my lifestyle and become much more health conscious. I eat healthy and exercise regularly. I meditate, and have developed a more positive attitude. This blog, I truly hope, is helping more and more patients and survivors find their happy space, as well as the inspiration to find that special light in their "new normal". I have been a public speaker, and love talking to high school aged children about my experience, and about the importance of learning to maintain a healthy lifestyle at a young age. This summer I'll be walking to raise money for women's cancers during the "Weekend to End Women's Cancers" at the end of August.

This IS my normal, and it's so much better than the normal I have been looking for in my future. Sometimes we spend too much time and energy coveting one small thing in life...and we get lost in there. It's similar to those who are never happy with what they have.....They always want that special something that is bigger and better.

When all the time........it's been under your nose.

So here I am, once again, smelling the flowers (albeit figuratively........please, please, please go away snow) and dancing in the rain (that I can do). Being grateful for who is in this journey with me....pills and all.

Teaching By Example

2013-03-22T13:47:02Z

Back in the day, when I was in Grade 9 at Malcolm Campbell High School, in Montreal, I played the flute in the high school senior band. Miss Gold, our band leader/teacher and a very involved and active conductor, was always looking for opportunities for our band to flourish and perform our magic.

One of the opportunities we had was to do a band exchange with a school in Belleville, New Jersey; not far from New York City. It was during that time that I met Joanne and Donna, students and musicians at Belleville High School. They came to Montreal for a few days, and both girls came to stay at my family home. When it was our turn to go to New Jersey, I stayed with Joanne's family.

We put on concerts, went sightseeing and had a few parties. It was everything a fifteen year old travelling with a very cool and mother-like band leader, and a busload of her fellow band members could imagine. I had a wonderful time, and the hospitality of my American family was warm and generous. Friendship bonds were made, and remained strong over a number of years, where the only means of keeping in touch was good old snail mail.

As with most things in life, we fell out of touch. Life has a way of twisting and turning, and some people stay along the winding road. Others do not. All of us went on to higher education, met our significant others, and started families.

And that's where most people would end their stories......in the sad limbo of life where you never really get to know what happened in the lives of their good friends.

But the unexpected happened a few years ago, when Joanne and Donna found me on Facebook. We were thrilled, and grateful to have found one another again. This was followed with a long phone call with Joanne, where we caught up with each other and the successes, as well as the trials and tribulations in our lives. We have seen pictures of each others' children, and now share the successes of their lives as well.

And this happy story is a very longwinded way for me to get to the point of today's blog. I have always believed, and ....... yes, pontificated..... (there will be a few eye rolls here) about how important it is to teach children through our actions. Words are cheap sometimes, and simply saying "I love you" or "I'm sorry", without showing it through actions and intentions will not allow that message to strike home. Children are very observant. They watch and hear more than any grown up or parent can imagine.

The way we conduct our lives, and the way we treat people is the ultimate lesson for those following in our footsteps. My friend, Joanne is one of those examples. She has brought up two girls who have learned, and continue to learn from her generosity and the number of hours she gives freely of her time.

The result? Her daughter, Jenna, just donated ten inches of her hair for Pantene who is accepting these donations in Canada in order to make wigs for those going through breast cancer treatment. When Joanne contacted me yesterday to let me know, I was so touched. She told me that Jenna had a particular interest, partly because she knows of her mother's link to her Canadian friend, and her journey through breast cancer.

This is but a mere drop in the sea of generous donations that are made to the cause on a daily basis. But to me, it is like gold. The importance of such a gesture is indicative of the nature of the leadership that surrounds her, and the compassion she has in her heart for people who are suffering. At a time where most pre-teens or teenagers are worried about things like getting the newest electronic gadget, or getting their hair and makeup just so.....it's nice to see that there are young people in the generations that are following ours that are aware of the impact that cancer, or other chronic diseases has on a family and loved oness. The drastic change in in her image by cutting off ten inches of her hair is something that would be stressful for someone her age, and it takes a lot of will to overcome the anxiety she would have had, in order to offer such a precious gift.

So to Joanne, and Jenna, as well as all those who are, or who have wonderful role models in their lives, I say thanks. On behalf of all breast cancer patients, and those who have survived and know the importance of such a gesture, we are grateful beyond words. Your action says it all.

Life is My Beach

2013-03-14T13:57:34Z

The beach has always held a special place in my heart. When I walk on the sand and listen to the waves hit the shore, there's a veil of peace that covers me. It brings me joy and happiness...like I'm walking on clouds. I'm sure it's probably like that for a fair number of people. Others may find their joy and peace at the top of a mountain, by a lake, or in a forest. When you find that special place, you know it. You've found your inner child....your inspiration....your true emotions.

I've been at the beach for two weeks now. I'm visiting my parents, whom I haven't seen since Canadian Thanksgiving, last October. They didn't come back to Canada for Christmas, so it's been a long time. Since my cancer diagnosis, times like this have taken a much greater importance. The "taken for granted" factor of my earlier, pre-cancer years has been replaced with a deep appreciation of where I have come from, and the people who are important in my life. My parents will not be around forever, but none of us will. There are people that leave this world early, and all too suddenly. Others fight an illness over a number of years. Some leave this world peacefully in their sleep.

And so here I am at the beach, being at one with my inner child and at peace. I am also creating memories with my family members that are so dear to me. The longer I get into cancer survivourship, the more I look for occasions like this. That new dress, or that newest gadget will always be there for one to buy. The experience of a holiday, a cruise, an out of town visit, or just plain making time to see the ones that are the most important to you will not. These are the occasions that you'll remember when you're old; the memories that will cause your heart to flutter as you replay that time in your mind, or share a laugh with your friends while telling them your story about it.

This is the true meaning of happiness, but one many people tend to ignore. As our life passes before us, and as our busy schedules dictate where our time and energy is spent, we overlook the child before us that only wants you to read them a book, or an elderly friend or neighbour who would be thrilled with a visit and a few minutes of your time.

Life waits for no one. People come and people go. It's up to you to choose whether you create memories with them or not. The satisfaction of creating these special times far outweighs the temporary thrill of a shopping spree, or the laughs one shares with a sunny day friend.

And even the beach will see the rain from time to time. Those that remain there, similar to the rainy day friends, see it for what it's truly worth. For even in the rain, there is peace and warmth. I was walking on the beach with my eldest daughter, Stephanie, a few days ago. She remarked that even when the harsh waves slap up on the shore, there is balence. They eventually retreat, and the land knows they will be back with a vengence, or maybe a little calmer next time. They are in harmony and peacefully co-exist.

I will remember that conversation as we walked along the beach that day, as I will remember the conversations during the many walks I took with my parents. You see, the problems of the world can be resolved while walking along the water. The most ingenious ideas are born there as well. Look around at the beach some day. There are not many sad people there.

And while I must leave soon, I will do so with a tear in my eye and a smile on my face....and a whole lot of memories that will fill my scrapbook of life, to be taken out when I need some warmth, or to plain just keep that smile on my face.

That scrapbook is getting much fuller now....with the rich memories that count.

Running for Gold

2013-02-16T02:23:09Z

The other day I was going through a box of accumulated stuff in my house. In one of the boxes I found a pile of Runner's World calendars. I use them to record my runs and my usual form of cross training; biking. I would also write down the times that I did weights in the gym.

I started doing this in 2007, a few months after I had run my first half marathon in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. It was very encouraging to look at the month on my wall, and see all training I had accomplished. I would line the square with a different colour for each; pink for running, green for biking and orange for weights. It inspired me to keep it up.

Flipping through my calendars, I got to April of 2007. That was the month I was diagnosed with cancer. My first operation; a lumpectomy was done on April 25th. I ran a 4k the day prior to my operation. One week later, On May 3rd, I did my first 3k walk (wasn't allowed to run yet). A couple of walks later, and two weeks after my first operation, I started running again.By the third week of May, I was back on track with my training schedule, and by early June, I had run 13.1k, or half marathon distance.

During this time I had received the unfortunate news that the first operation was unsuccessful. The margins were not clear. We were now discussing a mastectomy.

But running kept me company during the hot summer months leading up to the double mastectomy operation scheduled for August 3rd, 2007. The operation lasted ten and a half hours, and I was in the hospital for one week; a long time in hospital standards here. For six long weeks I was recovering at home. I had strict instructions from my surgeon to stay at home, and for a few weeks, was not even able to walk off my property. It would cause serious damage, if I was to fall.

I was allowed to start running on September 10th. I have a big "OK TO START RUNNING" written in the square on my calendar for that day. I ran a 1k. Underneath my distance I wrote "very difficult". But I kept up with it and slowly started increasing the mileage.

Again, and as fate would have it, I was not out of the woods yet. They had removed 17 lymph nodes during surgery as they had found traces of cancer cells. I started the first of eight chemotherapy treatments on September 20th that same year. Running had become my lifeline at this time. I was running an average of three times per week, and even ran a 5k race in Ottawa, Ontario on October 28th.

You see, running was good for my health; even then. Even when I was weakened by surgery and chemo. Even when I had a high level of stress in my life. As hard as it may seem, continuing with an exercise regime improved my outlook, helped reduce my side affects from chemo, and lightened my mood. I may not have covered the distances I would have as a healthy person, but the distances I covered mentally and spiritually were even better.

And my daughters saw, first hand, how to act in the face of difficulty. I hope this will be a comfort to them later in their lives. When I look back at this time in my life, I even surprise myself! I was a gold medal winner in the race of life.

Cancer- Did You Know?

2013-02-06T19:44:26Z

This week we celebrated World Cancer Day. The declaration and theme of this year's important day is to dispel damaging myths and misconceptions about cancer, and uses the tagline “Cancer - Did you know?”. This day gives anyone who has been touched by cancer a chance to collectively call for improvement of general knowledge around cancer and to raise awareness about some of the misconceptions about the disease.

On a global level, World Cancer Day targets four myths: That....Cancer's just a health issue; it's a disease of the wealthy, elderly and that found in developed countries; it's a death sentence; and it's my fate.

As an example, data from a recent international study, and initiative of the International Cancer Benchmarking Partnership (includes Canada, Australia, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and the United Kingdom) is very revealing. The data reveals there are a variety of reasons why people delay going to the doctor. Some believe that cancer means a death sentence. Others think that if they were to be diagnosed with cancer, the treatment would actually be worse than the cancer itself. Other reasons to delay visiting the doctor are that they are worried about what may be found, or that people are just too busy.

So.... if I get this right, the early signs of cancer are being ignored, and people are putting off going to see their doctors because of a variety of fears and their busy schedules.

Having been through cancer, I can attest that nudging yourself out the door was the hardest thing I ever did. I was losing blood from a breast nipple. I knew it wasn't normal. I was also training for a half marathon. I had read in my running books that this was common among women that were training hard.

It's not like the blood was trickling out constantly. It was a little speck, hardly visible at first. But I went to the doctor anyway. He actually agreed with me that it was quite possible that I was chafing as a result of running, and told me to get a more supportive bra.

And he sent me for a mammogram.

I'd like to say that's how I was diagnosed, but it wasn't. The mammogram came back negative. Turns out I have dense breast tissue, but didn't find this out until I WAS diagnosed.

So I had to push for more testing. You see, I knew something was wrong. We are very in tune with our bodies, if we just sit back and feel.... Two weeks after my "normal mammogram" I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

And through all this, was I afraid? Yes I was terrified.

Was I worried about what they would find? Absolutely, although I inherently knew what was going on; I was just in denial.

Was I too busy to see the doctor? Oh yes! I was working 90 hours per week in a high stress job. The excuse, "I have no time" would have been easy.

Was the treatment worse than the cancer. No. It's not fun; it's just different.

Cancer is not a death sentence. I am a five year cancer survivour, with intentions to live a full and happy life. Would I be here now, if I chose to ignore the signs? Most likely not. And look at all I'd be missing.

So find it in your heart to treat yourself right. If not for you, then for those you love. My daughters were young when I was diagnosed. They're now 18, 16 and almost 13 years old. They need me. They love me. They would miss me terribly if I was gone. I am here to attest that you have the strength to do it. Whether you initiate it, or that kick in the butt come from someone you love or respect, that doctor appointment can be made. It's not easy, but once you start, you have owned the situation, and more strength will come to you. It will get easier.

And all those myths will be dispelled.

The Luck of the Draw

2013-01-30T15:32:04Z

With 2013 off to a trying start I was sure in need of some fun, enjoyment and good news. It came on Friday last week, when I went to a scheduled appointment at the genetics department at the Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario (CHEO). I had been undergoing genetic testing to find out if I had inherited the breast cancer genes, BRCA-1 and BRCA-2. I wanted to do this, firstly, for my daughters, but also for any other family members who would then be eligible for genetic testing themselves.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, in April of 2007, I had no idea that so many of my family members had been through breast cancer, or prostate cancer, the latter also increasing the likelihood of developing this cancer if you are a carrier of these genes. As it turns out, my father's side hasn't been very fortunate. Two out of the four boys have had prostate cancer, and five out the seven girls had either ovarian cancer (again, the same genes) or breast cancer. What has really been of interest to those in the medical community who work in genetics, is the fact that myself and two of my cousins were diagnosed with breast cancer under the age of fifty (I was 44 years old when it was found). The interest level went up substantially in my case.

The time it took to go through an entire family medical history........and my family is a big one....was time consuming, but worth it. I also had to give a few vials of blood in order for the doctors to complete their testing.

And so there I sat, in the waiting room of the genetics department, having a conversation with my ego. You see we.......more so she......had decided that the probability of getting positive results and being a carrier of these dreaded genes would be shortly confirmed. I had already decided what I would do in this case. I would not disclose this information to any of my family members, especially my daughters, until later on. My fear was that they may encounter difficulties getting life insurance as a result. Those that have a mother that carries the gene have a 50-50 chance of inheriting the genes themselves. I would also have to think much more seriously about having a total hysterectomy in the short term, as being a gene carrier as well as being on tamoxifen, would increase my chances for cancer of the ovaries or the uterus.

Being a cancer survivour for over five years now has significantly changed my perspective on life. I don't get stressed as much with situations, even serious ones such as this one, that are out of my control. The former me would probably have crawled under a rock with a blanket by now, a pair of earplugs firmly ensconced in her ears, and a thumb in her mouth. The rocking survivour me, however, was taking it all in matter-of-factly. It will be what it will be, and we will deal with the results when we get them.

This was the attitude I had when I sat down on the chair in the doctor's office, ready to get my results. And surprise.....surprise. I tested negative! I have to admit; even I was surprised. I wanted to celebrate right there on the spot. I sat and listened to the explanation of my results. I was also warned that there could be other significant findings in the future that could interest me. They would contact me, if that was the case. I asked for a copy of my lab report, and jokingly said it was worthy of being framed (hmmmmmm.....I may just do that). I left the hospital that day feeling lighter, and happier. I had good news for my daughters specifically, and my family. I didn't have to think of more immediate, but necessary surgery. And I received some much needed good news.

I got in the car as a tear rolled down my cheek. Not sad tears, but happy ones laden with a bit of relief. At least this chapter can be closed for awhile. Closed as much as it can be..... It won't be long until I start looking for answers elsewhere. I will bask in these new found results, and ponder what I will do next as a survivour. I'm sure there are more avenues for me to discover, and more things to learn. Until then....I celebrate life!