Anniversaries and Epiphanies

I had not visited this site since I last posted in July until yesterday, when I decided to have a look. I had some ideas for a new post that I wanted to write this weekend. When I signed in, I discovered that the background frame had disappeared, and had been replaced with a box with a message inside, saying something about the selected wallpaper being no longer available. This message was transposed over top ofmy individual entries, and made them difficult to read. For those of you who saw this blog in such disrepair, I apologize. I have addressed the problem, and have found a new background, which is probably even more appropriate than the first one. Lesson learned: if I want to keep a blog, I have to make sure it is always "presentable". After all, at anytime, someone could happen upon it.

So what is new? Happily, I can say, nothing - and everything. Today is a special day, as it marks the second anniversary of my hearing the words, "You have breast cancer." I have arrived at this milestone in great health and with each year that passes, I become statistically farther removed from my days as a cancer sufferer - a good thing, for sure. This disease is largely based on numbers. Cancer tumours are graded from 1 to 3, cancer growth is staged from 1 to 4, and survival rates are tracked by the numbers. When I chose to undergo chemotherapy, for instance, I reduced my chances of recurance by half - odds that made the side effects well worth it.

Since I last posted, I have seen each of my three oncologists at least once. With the Beatrice study ongoing, I get called back to see Dr. Bovett or Dr. Dent every three months, most recently in October. The last time I also had an echocardiogram and a ECG, procedures I must undergo every six months. In September, I saw my surgeon, Dr. George and in November, I saw the radiation oncologist, Dr. Larochelle. When she looked at my file, she commented that I was "over-doctored". This is not a bad thing since the result of these visits has been, in every case, good. All of them closely examine my breasts to make sure there is no new cancerous growth. All my doctors feel me up - and I am thankful for it. Also, if I have ANY health concerns, they want to hear about them. A history of cancer makes the doctors in my life very solicitous for my well-being. An illustration of this occurred at my most recent doctor's visit a few weeks ago, this time with my GP, Dr. Kane, (who also did a breast examination - that's four months straight!) She discovered that I had a urinary tract infection. I had no symptoms, but she was concerned enough to prescribe antibiotics and to arrange a transvaginal and cervical scan in

a few weeks, as a precautionary look at some of my other female parts. As you can see, I am well cared for, in spite of the fact that I am the picture of health - or so I believe. In fact, as I look ahead to 2011, I have follow-up visits to various oncologists every month until May, when I will have to manage without doctors poking and prodding me, requiring blood and urine tests, arranging other procedures, and of course, touching my breasts.

Since September, I have been back teaching full

time, filling in for a former colleague at York Mills who is himself in a battle against cancer. I am happy to help out and to work again with the delightful students and staff at that school. Some of the English department folks have supported me this fall as I joined my daughter's team, "The Tit Crew", in fundraising for breast cancer research, and participating in "The Run for the Cure" on the first Sunday of October. As team captain, Jess organized a karaoke night fundraiser on a Friday evening in late September at the Gladstone Hotel. We "pinked it up" for the night (photo attached) and it was heartwarming to see so many of Jess and Graeme's friends at the event which raised over $300. Even better was the run day itself, where my Toronto family did the 5K walk together, in a team that included both Matt and Jess Bassett-Spears, whose Mom succumbed to breast cancer over two years ago, as well as other friends. I wore a hot pink feather boa for the occasion. A few hours later,

Katie walked "for MOM" in Calgary. It is all so very heartwarming to have this much support, and to have my family members rally behind me. Special credit goes to Jess for the hard work she put into both events this year. I am a lucky Mom, indeed.

I have called this entry "anniversaries and epiphanies" because there are many of both. Soon, I will celebrate the anniversary of my surgery, and then another anniversary of chemo, then radiation and so on. It is an ongoing celebration, in a sense. There are many epiphanies as well. Being a cancer survivor has provided me with many insights and realizations about life. I never pass up an opportunity to celebrate being alive, to enjoy the company of good friends and to seize the day. Carpe Diem has become my motto.