On May 7th I crossed a finish line in this marathon of breast cancer.  I had my final Herceptin infusion.  As usual I don’t feel well for the first few days.  This time, however, I am happy beyond belief because I am so grateful to be passed this tough part.

I can recall my first round of chemo as if it happened yesterday.  It was spring 2012.  Cancer is often associated with loss ranging from hair loss to loss of life.  Since my first round a year ago, I have gained so much.  Apart from the weight I put on, I feel incredibly blessed.

I did everything I could to ensure Cancer takes away as little as possible from my family and I.  This past year, I gained some incredible friendships, ended up even stronger in an already pretty awesome marriage, and, best of all, welcomed a beautiful baby boy.

Nate hanging out with me during chemo.

My little boy.

A few years ago, a medical journal introduced the concept of having a heart attack, or worse, as a result of a broken heart.  A sudden large burden of grief or sadness can literally result in a broken heart.  Drawing from my own experience, I remember my heart felt broken in August 2010 – when my father died.  While I did not sustain any actual damage to my heart, I wonder if my breast cancer had something to do with the intense sadness my dad’s passing caused me.  I am not saying that my dad’s passing caused my breast cancer.  I just wonder if my reaction and grief had a role.

My dad, or “Papa”, had a stroke in September 2009.  The stroke destroyed the part of his brain responsible for speaking and moving the right side of his body.  The only way I could communicate with him after the stroke was in person.  He could no longer talk on the phone.  After a lot of research and difficult decisions, I opted to keep my dad in Toronto – where he lived – as the stroke care there was superior to anything on my side of the country.  I still second guess that decision because the distance between us meant I could not visit him nearly as often as I wanted to.  I cannot help but wonder if I was by his side more often after his stroke, would he have survived?  I will never know.

My dad and I had a very special connection that intensified as I got older.  After a turbulent divorce from my mom when I was still too young to understand what was going on, we managed to put the bad memories behind us and focus on the present.  Papa was very eccentric due to his being a genius who had lived a hard life.  He had a very generous heart and was always willing to help anyone in need.  I remember once while training to be an ER doc, I went through a brief period of feeling depressed – likely due to sleep deprivation.  We talked on the phone every day.  One day, a large parcel was delivered to my door.   He sent me two dozen boxes of chocolate and liquor cherries, as well as some other fun items.  I absolutely loved his present and it truly got me out of a funk.  Who else would send someone a crate of chocolate?  Most people would send a box or two.  Not my dad!

When he died a year after initially suffering a stroke, my heart broke.  I am still far from being over it and doubt I ever will.  The loss of my dad was the biggest loss I ever experienced.  There is nothing I can do to change that.  However, I can change my reaction to it.  I can focus on being as courageous as my dad was throughout his life.  I can try to celebrate my life – the life he helped give me – instead of mourn his death.  I believe he is still with me.  Papa is always in my heart.  He also lives on through my son who is named after my dad.  Whenever I think of something sad or negative, I will try to think of something positive as well.

Window in a church.

Something has changed in my outlook and energy this past week.  I have to say that I am at a low point right now on this roller coaster cancer ride.  I have done 15 rounds of chemotherapy and am feeling mentally done.  The problem is that I still have two rounds left.  When I was initially diagnosed with breast cancer, I so wanted to be an inspirational and positive motivator for others going through similar challenges.  I still aspire to reach that goal on most days.  Today was a watershed day.  After trying to keep myself together, I ended up crying for most of the afternoon.  Some of tears were due to self-pity; others were due to fatigue.  Better out than in.  For the time being I am living in quarters.  Instead of living one day at a time, I am living 6 hours at a time.  Every six hours I set small goals.  When times are difficult, living in quarters helps me get through.  Feeling quite drained, I will keep this article short.  Wishing all of my readers peace, health, happiness, and strength.  There is nothing wrong with a bad day.

Nate loves being in water. His joy is contagious.

I just finished a string of five shifts.  Even if I weren’t still having chemo, I would be exhausted.  I derive energy from loving my career and feel blessed to work in a field that is so fulfilling.  Today was a special shift in that I can honestly say I saved a life.  Truth be known, I believe that 80% of what comes into the ER would get better without treatment or my involvement.  The human body is pretty terrific when it comes to healing.  Most of the time my job is to merely help it along.  This patient that I saved came into the ER with a heart rate that was not compatible with life.  With only a limited medical history to rely on, I pieced together that her potassium level was critically high and, in turn, was causing her heart to fail.  Before a blood test proved me right, I started the protocol for high potassium.   There wasn’t any time to wait for test results.  Sure enough, the patient’s condition stabilized.  This was a very rewarding case.

Lately working has been difficult.  If money were not an issue, I would take more time off to focus on getting physically stronger.  Chemo often leaves me feeling tired and sore most of the time.  I know that the discomfort is temporary.  With three more rounds of chemo to go, I feel that easier times are coming.  Every day that I am alive is a great day.  Having a new baby amplifies that joy a hundred fold.  He is my little miracle.  At almost two months old, he smiles all of the time and processes his surroundings with wonder in his eyes.  He inspires me and reminds me how beautiful life is.

I feel I should write more but I cannot keep my eyes open.  I have a few days off and hope to write more.  Carpe Diem everyone!

Crossing the finish line at Ironman Canada

In August, 2001, I achieved one of the greatest accomplishments in my life. I crossed the finish line in the Canadian Ironman Championships in Penticton, BC. As I crossed the finish line, a race official put a large shiny “Finisher” medal around my neck. I remember that powerful feeling of being in total control of my destiny and having the ability to accomplish anything I put my mind too. I was so incredibly proud of myself. What bolstered the awesomeness of crossing the finish line was all of the supporters – including my friends and family – and the many strangers who were cheering us on. Then, at midnight, the finish line was taken down and most of the supporters went away.  The race was over.  But there were still racers on the course.

These were racers who were giving it their all but were taking longer to finish the race than the midnight deadline. I remember feeling sad for those racers who were determined to finish but would not have the reception or medal that I, or the hundreds of racers who finished in time, received. Imagine finishing an Ironman triathlon with no supporters or fanfare.

I have felt a bit like one of those “late” racers lately. When I first learned that I had breast cancer last January, the support was incredible. I had friends coming out of the wood work to offer their encouragement. People sent cards, flowers, and good luck charms; they brought over food. I felt like there is no way I won’t beat cancer with all of the support.

Today marks my 14th month of fighting breast cancer. I have three rounds of Herceptin left and then begin the five years of hormone suppression. I have previously written about how I seem to be one of the few who don’t tolerate the Herceptin very well. However, because it is such a life saving drug – massively reducing the risk of recurrence in Her2 +ve tumors like mine – I want to finish the complete course of 17 treatments.

Similar to when I was nearing the end of the Ironman race in 2001, my muscles ache, I am exhausted, I feel like I have given this battle my all. Unlike Ironman, I am still fighting. My race isn’t over yet. However, I feel like many around me expect that, for whatever reason, my life is back to normal and that I no longer have cancer because it has been a long time. There seems to be a time limit imposed on support and encouragement and that time is up for me. I don’t expect my mail box to be full of well wishes. I especially don’t want sympathy. I just wish others realized that I am still on the race course beating breast cancer.

I know many others fighting breast and other cancers experience similar cases of “supporter burnout”. The final months of chemotherapy are very lonely and as a result more difficult. And while I can rationalize why this occurs, I don’t feel any better about it. The last rounds of chemo have been much harder than the first. My body has been stripped down, flooded with cell killing toxins, and my pain receptors are on overdrive. The “fight” to win in my heart is tired. I think about giving up on beating cancer more often because living life like this isn’t worth it to me. If being cancer-free means living every day with inordinate fatigue and pain, I don’t know that I want to. I am tired of the frustration people have with me because I am not back to normal.  I am tired of others thinking I have become lazy or unmotivated.  I hate thinking of myself as being sick but that is what I am.  I am sick.  However, I am fighting like hell to get better and be healthier than ever before.

What I hope people who read this article will do is reach out to someone who is fighting cancer or another disease or hardship. Send them some token of encouragement. Let them know that you are still cheering on the sidelines. Have patience if it is your spouse or partner that is fighting. These cancer warriors still need more rest, more love, more encouragement, and more understanding, than normal.  Especially more love.

My favorite pic of the two of us.

Over the past few weeks I have gotten notices from the site that houses my website telling me I need to buy more memory. My heart feels so heavy because I cannot afford to pay more than I already have. I never realized how expensive running a website is. If I search my soul, the reason I ever started ERtopics was to help me get through cancer. Learning about websites and starting my own had been on my bucket list. Even on the worst days of chemo, I looked forward to and enjoyed molding this place. Later, I realized that a lot of people were deriving benefit from my story. The mere fact that others were enjoying what I was writing meant more to me than I can describe.

Some times this website felt like a chore – though not very often. There were a couple of points in this cancer journey where I became quite depressed and recoiled from things I normally enjoyed. But, I always returned once I was on my feet again.

The rising number of daily visits – and seeing that number climb to over 1000 daily visitors – makes me feel so very honored. I feel like I have to keep going forward with this project. Not being one to ask for things easily, I find it hard to ask readers to chip in a few bucks each so that I can pay for this website and continue to build it into the best site I can. I don’t do things half-ass.  Even if every visitor donates a dollar, my web costs would be covered.

So, I am asking. If you enjoy my website here, please consider clicking on the “donate” button on the right hand side of the panel. Any amount will help me significantly.  I will thank you by continuing to write content that helps others going through cancer, or any life-altering trauma.  This website means so much to me.  Please help me keep it.

This picture has nothing to do with my post.

I have the flu.  It sucks.

For many days after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I would have the same event every morning.  I would wake up, put my hand on my chest and realize that yes, it is true, I am fighting breast cancer.  For the first moments of every day, I would have a feeling of being kicked in the chest.  That was the case until my partner and I learned we were expecting.  After a year of trying various fertility methods, the pregnancy test read “positive”.  Overnight, the morning dread that I awoken to each day was replaced with the pure joy of knowing a baby is on the way.

This Friday, January 25th, Nathan Mark was born.  Weighing 8 lbs 5 Oz, with a perfect number of fingers and toes, little Nate came into our lives.  Nathan truly is a gift from God – as his name implies.

This is our new baby only a couple of days old.

My beautiful partner and our new baby.