Breakfast with Signy

Hi, everyone. This is Lauren once again, checking in after breakfasting with Signy yesterday morning. I stopped by for a couple of hours and we made protein shakes (another healing recipe courtesy of our fabulous naturopath, Glenda Laxton) with many exciting supplements, from bee pollen and spirulina to vitamins and acidophilus. Signy's commitment to her health is so inspiring... she pulled out a veritable cornucopia of ingredients to play with.

Anyway, Signy was having a pretty good day yesterday. Still having some pain, and when she stands she's experiencing some dizziness. She mentioned that she's having a hard time not being impatient with herself, because she has been comparing her recovery progress to her previous surgery and keeps forgetting that last time they kept her in the hospital for two days afterward! She's comparing her second day back to her second day at home last time around, but it's an unfair comparison.

I think it's safe to say that it's a struggle for Signy to stay still and rest... she was up and about every few minutes during my visit despite feeling dizzy. She mentioned that on Saturday night she walked across the street to the video store (about half a block away) to pick up some movies. (Aside: apparently Maggie shadowed her the whole way there, something she's never done before.) She was referring to this as her "unsupervised walk" so I guess she knows her friends would all disapprove of her wandering out of the house less than 36 hours after surgery! But she does seem very well, all things considered -- her colour is good and her eyes bright -- and I trust that she won't push herself too much.

Her mom arrives today, and I know I for one am very happy that Signy will have 24-hour human companionship for a few days, particularly of the "mom" variety.

Oh, and I did print out your comments here and took them to her... she really enjoyed reading them and alternated between laughter and exclamations of "awww".

If any of you have been by to visit Signy, it would be great to hear your stories, too.... feel free to post them in the comments area, or email me at (sorry, just trying to avoid getting spam) and I'll post them here.

Here's Glenda's basic protein shake recipe:
1 banana
1/2 cup frozen fruit (Berries and peaches are good, but you can use any fruit. Use locally-grown fruit if possible -- i.e. no tropical fruit if you live in Canada)
1 cup soy/rice milk (or whatever liquid works for you -- but these two have particular health benefits)
2 Tablespoons protein powder (soy, whey, rice, hemp, etc.)
1 Tablespoon flax seed oil
supplements as you see fit (break caplets open & sprinkle powder straight into the blender)

Combine all ingredients in a blender. Mix well until smooth and drink up!

Saturday Report

Lauren again... I spoke with Signy around 6pm tonight and she asked me to give you all a more detailed update. So here goes. It's going to be a bit, shall we say, fluid... much like the conversation I had with our darling Signy.

First things first: according to friend Seana, who picked Signy up at the hospital yesterday and accompanied her home, the surgeon (Dr. Kusk) mentioned that when she removed the calcification she tried to "eyeball" it to see if she could sense whether or not it was cancerous. (Sometimes she has had success in identifying these things, apparently.) Unfortunately she didn't feel like she had a good idea one way or the other, so we will need to hold out for the test results -- these should come in about two weeks, so hold onto those uplifting, supportive thoughts and prayers.

In lighter news, Signy was by all accounts having a good time under anaesthesia, even going so far as to flirt with her anesthesiologist. No word yet on whether they've made a date!

Today, Signy has been feeling okay, but in more pain than yesterday (as the drugs have now worn off). She's been taking Tylenol 3's, napping and is eating well. She's had her scheduled visitors over and is really appreciating the company -- as well as the many wonderful, well-wishing phone calls that have come in.

Maggie (Signy's beautiful black cat) has been very attentive and according to Signy, "trying to purr me to good health". It's good to know that Signy has company 24 hours a day; Maggie has not left her side since she came home yesterday, which is unusual behaviour for the usually quite independent kitty.

What else? She mentioned she didn't sleep well last night, despite using the castor oil pack, but thought that may have been because she had slept all day. She is in some pain now, and is tired -- but she emphasized that the pain is at least keeping her from being bored. That's our gal!

Finally, happy birthday to Signy's mom! Signy mentioned she had a chance to talk to her on the phone and extend her birthday greetings.

I am on breakfast duty tomorrow, so will try and check in again to let you all know how she's doing.

Oh, and thanks for all your comments here -- I'm going to print off the most recent ones and bring them to Signy in the morning. I know she'll be delighted to hear all of your good wishes and thoughts.

All the best to all of you Team Signy stalwarts!
Lauren

All is well.

Lauren here. Seana has just checked in to report that Signy is home resting, and that everything went well. I'm sure there will be more details soon, but that's the news for now!

Sent home again - the final countdown

Well, the final countdown is on, and yes, I have been sent home again. Makes sense really. Part of my job involves counselling students, guiding them to discover what might be a good career fit for them. That involves being a relatively neutral influence, reflecting back their interests and other things they talk about. Well, lets face it, recently, every science student that walks through the door, I am TELLING them (not very counsel-y, not very coach-y) that they should go and discover the cure for cancer. Yeah, it was time for me to go home.

So now I need to occupy my mind, in good ways, for the next few hours, until the first shift of “distraction” arrives. This is tricky. The only things left to do right now are surgery related. Get my T3s and Xanax prescription filled. Buy good “recovery food”. Hydrate myself (so my veins are fat and juicy). So you got it, I am blogging my time away.

Tragically, I am presently pre-menstrual, leaving me wildly emotional and with very tender breasts. Can you say Mammogram and Very Tender Breasts 10 times fast with gritted teeth? I sure can, and expect to say it even more than that (but maybe slow, with all that sedation), with either fits of anger or spurts of tears. But I am sure I will get over that. All the love that has been flowing in today (and I am sure, tomorrow) has me choosing gratitude over the many other things I could be thinking about.

All my workmates were so lovely today. Giving me flowers, but not just any flower, instead ones with meaning, about hope for the future. And scarves the represent virtual hugs. What a great place I work in. And all the calls and prayers and poems and flowers I have gotten. The distractions, the laughter. Thank you all for your love. It is HUGE. And appreciated. And now, the vigil begins. A more intense form of waiting. Nothing left to DO. Just being. Being with myself. Being with the Goddess. Cultivating trust and gratitude. Leaning into faith and courage and grace. One friend reminded me: Signy, you are all about miracles and magic, just hold the space. She is another of today’s birthday gals. So blessing on all of you for the blessings you have sent me. 24 hours from now, it will all look different.

Basic Itinerary for the day of

It is a fabulous Tuesday, and on Fabulous Friday (Feb 24th), exciting things happen. This is a reminder and request for prayers, thoughts, love, power, whatever your pleasure, with specific time and location details, in case you like to focus your thoughts.

7:20 am arrive at Cancer World - 600 West 10th Ave, Vancouver (read: pacific time)

7:30 am IV line put in, I believe to my left side (a bit dodgy, since that is where I had nodal dissection almost 5 years ago)

8:20 am carted off to have a mammogram guided fine wire put in (apparently this takes anywhere from 30mins to a hour) to my right breast

10 am local freezing

10:15 am surgery starts (in theory, but who knows about timing)

noon - picked up by Seana and taken home


For the rest of you, just general yummy vibes are great too.

EMDR

No, this is not a personality preference result for people most likely to be afraid of needles. It is not a coaching term. It is not even a short form astrological transit thingy (and I bet you sooo wanted it to be that). This is the acronym (apparently, although I can’t make heads or tails of how it the letters come from the words) for a kind of therapy called Rapid Eye Movement that is especially good for dealing with traumatic experiences. It has often been used with people who suffer from PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder, you see, this one makes sense). It involves going back to the traumatic experience (in my case, any one of the many needle “incidences”), and looking at the details of the experience (blood forced to pool in my hand, trapped there, the skin being broken and the needle penetrating the vein), the negative beliefs you have of yourself around the experience (I have no control, I am powerless over this process), as well as the positive beliefs you would like to have (I am strong, I ask for what I need and want, I take care of myself). Then you do some processing work, and the mind and body together organically unravel the ball of yarn to discover the core issues and diffuse the suffering and stuck places. Very powerful and a little bit magic. Now wonder I like it so much. That and the body as ally thing.

I did a session today. I learned some cool things about how I don’t speak my truth in these crucial situations; I dissociate, and just sort of abandon myself by keeping silent. AAAHHHHHH. Me, silent. It seems such a contradiction, an antithesis, an oxymoron (definitely some kind of moron). It is such a betrayal of myself and that hurts me almost more than anything else. And I hid the betrayal behind “being reasonable”, trying not to interfere, bias, or influence someone. Well sometimes I should be influencing people, and how they work and what they think and what decision they come to. For the love of god, isn’t that the whole point? To have some sort of impact. It is not about “leaving no trace” when it comes to human life. It is about splashing around it the pool of experience WITH people and trusting that our relationship will either come out intact or not, and that either way is fine and that a bit of healthy conflict can refine a relationship (I know there a few of you out there nodding your heads, remembering the experience of having had the pottery of your life fired in the heat of my kiln). And yet, I recently discovered that one of the “things I can’t be with” (see yesterday’s post for more on that) is conflict. Yikes. That is a bit of a set up. Maybe I will address that with my EMDR-ist after I am done with this pesky surgery thing.

Here is a question for you:
What is the conversation that you are avoiding having?

Waiting

There is a ton of waiting involved in this medical dance. Waiting for surgery, waiting for results, waiting to talk to doctors, etc. And unfortunately, I HATE waiting. Hate it with a passion. Intense passion. I won’t wait in lines, won’t wait patiently in traffic jams. I would rather be late, rather miss an appointment, rather chew through my own arm than have to wait. I traveled through New Zealand with a friend some number of years ago now, and we used to laugh at ourselves, because she couldn’t stand rain (which I am quite ok with) and I couldn’t stand waiting (which she asserts she doesn’t mind a whit) and the number of hours we spent waiting, in the rain was comical. And probably doubly comical for her watching my face turn a great number of shades of red and purple with sheer fury. So what an exciting lesson is this!?!?

So a couple of thoughts sprout off from this branch of the tree.

How do we become ok with the things we hate? Do you just sit in it long enough until you’re good and sick of it and stop doing it? Seems a little simple (or is it just that I like my life complex?). At the Coaches Training Institute, in one of the courses I teach, we take a look at “What is the thing you can’t be with?” and really open up a space to explore how it holds us back, what it is costing us, what it gives us, and letting ourselves deeply feel into whatever is there. There seems a bit of a metamorphosis, a magic that happens when we stay down at the bottom of the cold, dark well with our crap for long enough. There is something about the “for long enough” part of it though. It is too easy to touch it lightly and run triumphant, declaring the deed done. Instead really being there until IT is done, not until when we conceive it should be done. This takes a lot of courage. And often reveals something different than what we expected. Perhaps it is time for me to enter “waiting” into my front-runners for the next exploration.

How do we pass the time, the time of waiting for the thing we want, or the thing we don’t want as in my case here? How to we engage our minds; keep ourselves occupied. Some go the “think good thoughts” route (picture the best possible outcome), some the other end of the continuum (What’s the worst thing that could happen, so anything less is good news). Body type that I am, I tend to engage my mind by engaging my body (this is not to say that I distract myself by having wild and crazy sex, although that might not be a bad idea). You have already heard the not so useful ways, getting busy, DOING until I explode, dashing from one activity to another. So what ways work well for me? Exercise. Stretching. Yoga. Breathing. Getting aggression and anger OUT. Dancing. Laughing. Movement or the opposite of that with sitting very, very still, but doing so consciously.

What works for you?

Where is the Goddess in all this?

Where indeed!

One noticeable piece of this journey (as compared to the last one, I don’t like to collapse them, since this one has nothing to do with cancer), is that I am not feeling too connected with the G-force. Holy shit, now that is not sitting so well with me. I expected myself to be all down on my knees or repentant or beseeching or something. Not that I was last time, and yes I am exaggerating for my love of drama (I mean really, what would I repent for anyway, not jogging enough, eating too much cheese, come on!), but still, what the hell is going on? Where am I in this, where is Goddess in this, to quote the Black Eyed Peas, “Where is the love?” And from a theoretical standpoint, I know that She is there, watching over, everything is exactly as it is meant to be, etc. So, really the question is, where the hell am I?

Seems I am in a nasty little middle zone, a kind of no man’s land. Where things are comfortable but not exceptional. It is like I am not fighting with Goddess, expressing my anger (yes, my anger is suspiciously absent), fist raised to the sky. There is no passion, no “show yourself to me”, no “I have had enough” (me expressing any of these things is a very good sign). Instead it is just me going about my business. Which could be fine, but I am also not surrendered. I am not willing and trusting and giving myself over to the process. I have not turned my will and my life (and my body) over. I am still holding on. I am in the middle. Like driving with the brakes on. I want to be in control. Of the process, of the outcome, of everything. And it’s not working. Sure, I am doing all the “right things” (eating well, exercising, thinking good thoughts) but my heart is not in it. I am half here. And for me, this is a dangerous place to be. If I am not fully bought in, it is hard for me to get my body’s cooperation. And on this one, I really need my body’s cooperation.

So how the heck do I surrender?

Firstly, I need to know why I am holding out? And it is true; I have a resentment towards the G-force. Yes, I am holding my breath because I am mad at the Goddess. Darn fed up. I am not getting the life that I want. And like a child, I have been holding my breath waiting for an apology from Her for about 10 months now. We are at a stand off, and I am not really sure of the way out. I suspect it involves humility. And acceptance. And gratitude. And willingness. All things I am a bit short on right now. Do you think there is like a bank of these somewhere, where you could withdraw 10 gratitude chits, and 50 willingness credits? Or can I borrow someone else’s until I get enough of my own to go on?

And secondly, what I have learned is that I am even powerless over when I surrender. I can’t time it, or coordinate it, or think my way to it. I can’t get it just by asking, or pleading or demanding. It comes in it’s own time. Apparently when it is ready or when I am ready or some damn thing that I can’t see. And right now, I just hate that. Which only adds to my mad! Oh look, some anger is bubbling to the surface. Maybe tomorrow I will head down to Jericho Beach to smash a few plates on the rocks and see where that takes me.

Excellent, because the third thing I know about this subject is that often that act of truly feeling my feelings, letting them have full rein and full expression, that is the gateway to surrender.

Extreme Self-care

Here I am, a Thursday, at home. I was forbidden to go to work today (well, maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration). I have the start of a cold, tickling it’s way down the ivories of the back of my throat. I can’t have a cold, and have surgery. And come Friday, a week out from surgery, I can’t take the kinds of things that ward of colds (Echinacea, garlic, etc). So, sleep is the answer. Staying home, rest and relaxation, these are now on the schedule. Literally.

I guess I had been overdoing it a bit (imagine that?). Even Maggie (my fine, black cat, for those a bit behind the times) is on the bandwagon, pinning me down, lying on me and giving me Purr Therapy. I am being forced into what I like to call Extreme Self-Care. You know, the taking care of ourselves to the nth degree. It is ironic, because I am a big advocate for it, especially in other people’s lives. And there are times I have lived it right down to the ground (gee, 2001, when I had cancer, comes to mind). But I get slack. I forget how important it is. And extreme self-care, by the very nature of the title, is not something one can participate in everyday; it is for extreme or unusual situations. Well, here I am, extreme and unusual (the situation, not me. Well, then again, I guess both are true).

Another way it has manifested is in needing to boundary set. The one out-of-the-house thing I did do was go to Cancer World, to get a bit more information on how the day will unfold. I want to know the flow; it gives me a much-needed-under-the-circumstance sense of control. Well, turns out this gal told me things that we very different from the first gal. Oh dear. And this second opinion was not to my liking. She told me no Emla (topical Novocain) on the breast. She told me they might put the IV into either arm, can’t tell until the day of. She told me the might use local, they might use general, it all depends. Depends on what? I wonder to myself. Well, turns out, along these extreme self-care lines, that I need to wonder it out loud too. I was reminded by dear friends that it is time to go and get assertive, and clear and no shit, no kidding with these people. I need to decide what I want and then let them know what it is, because not knowing takes away my power and my sense of safely, and right now, I need those.

I have yet another example of it. My mother is coming to be with me after surgery (bless her, there is nothing like having your mom around when you are sick, it is sort of healing and nurturing by its very nature, regardless of how old you are). And yet, I do this thing when people come from out of town, where I Put My Life On Hold. They don’t ask me to (I have already had this chat with my mother, she said, and I quote “you don’t need to entertain me”), but it just happens, I don’t know how else to do it. I stop calling my friends and going out with them. I don’t take my afternoon naps or watch the silly mind numbing TV shows or videos that I like. I try to plan and structure things (when what I really like is to just flow and see where life and the day takes me). Correcting this behaviour quirk baffles and consistently exceeds me. And, under this situation, correcting this behaviour (and I guess attitudinal) quirk would fall into the category of extreme self-care. So I guess it is time to learn some new behaviours. This surgery sure has lessons pouring out left, right and center. I hope I am as good at integrating them as the surgery is at providing them. Wish me luck.

Update on this JOY thing

Ok, so now I have had a week or so to be in this place of choosing joy, living joy, being joy. What have I learned so far?

Here is an obvious one. When I choose joy and choose joy and then choose some more joy, eventually my head and my life explodes. And not really in a good way. I always think it will be so fun, just all joy, all the time. But there is so much joy to be had, so many great things to do. How do we pick? I guess that is the point of the Balance course we teach at the Coaches Training Institute. Eventually, when life gets so full and so rich and so big, there will come a day when you even need to say no to delightful things, desirable things, A-list things. I have spent so much time yearning to have my life filled with fun stuff that now that it is here and I am forced to pick between excellent things, I am at a loss. As I keep saying when I lead the Balance course: to reach your dream you need to say no to something else.

And what happens if we don’t pick? There is this running ragged thing. And eventually, even the joy stops being joyful because it is overwhelming. Is there really such a thing as too much joy? Well, here I am, doing tons. Stuff I like. But something happens. It is like I step onto this treadmill of Doing. I go onto autopilot and when I am here it is hard to hear what I really need or want to do. It is like I am in overdrive, with a burning, feverish need to DO things, when what I really need is to gear down. Is it our society that has us be such doers, or it is in my DNA, coming from busy people stock, or is it in my personality? I am learning that picking is a better answer for me that this doing thing. And slowing down between activities enough that I get to listen to my heart is crucial.

Here is another big thing I got feedback on. My dear friends, who have dear children, oh boy. When you have kids it is all about them. So guess what, it is about choosing their joy. And at the end of the day, there isn’t time left for your joy, or rather you are too exhausted and the only real joy is sleep. Your joy takes second place or else you are dealing with their non-joy and with little kids that seems to look like tears or temper tantrums. Lions and tigers and bears. Oh my. So I don’t know what to say. I am in the very luxurious position of having all the time in the world, to focus on me (not that I have always appreciated being in this position, as many of you know). I guess it then becomes my responsibility to make use of that time. But here is my one thought on what I have done when I am in a position where I don’t get to choose what is or is not a part of my day, and I don’t get to pick what my heart’s first choice is. I try to do whatever I have to do with joy. Pat and simple sounding I know, but not easy. Sort of like gratitude, it needs to be cultivated and created, for it doesn’t seem to grow on it’s own, unattended. Another important lesson around joy then. How do we find what is joyful in all that we do, instead of living in the place of longing for the thing we can’t or don’t have.

Things I am doing to support my body

Ok, this entry is more like a how to guide, for others walking the road, for posterity, for if I ever have to go here again (my memory can be remarkable mushy when it comes to remember the nuances of medical and health related thingy’s). So here is a broad list of some of my best practices (in no particular order), and in later posts I will go into greater detail on the more obscure or far-reaching ones.

1) Getting lots of exercise – well, lots for me is maybe jogging every two days and yoga twice a week. Boy, I sure would like to do some kickboxing too; I think that would be a double winner for a release of some of the anger I am feeling. Racquetball was good that way too, you can make so many guttural, sharp, loud sounds and no one bats an eyelash (except for that cute chick who was fluttering her eyelashes all over me afterwards, now that can’t be bad). I am also hoping to take up archery on Feb 27th. Being active, whatever that looks like, is a Good Thing.
2) Drinking lots of crazy tea made up of roots and bark and leaves – yum! I have my standard burdock root and dandelion root combo. I like to boil the crap out of it, for at least an hour, to get out all the good nutrition (hell, that’s why I am drinking it, not for the taste!). It is good for the immune system, and lymphatic drainage. I will tell you a little story about that in a later post!
3) Getting really hydrated the day or two before surgery, so that they can easily find my veins. Yuck.
4) Castor oil packs – more on this later.
5) Getting lots of sleep. Apparently, if I have a cold or flu I am not allowed to have the surgery. Don’t tempt me.
6) Having fit of laughter and other fun things. I am calling, and calling on the people that make me laugh so hard that I almost pee my pants and think that I have damaged some internal organs. We all need at least 15 friends like these. You know who you are. Keep it coming.
7) Seeing funny or hopeful movies. This is not the time to see the scary shit. The death and violent ones. No thank you! Inspiration all the way.
8) Getting lots of cuddles – really. From anyone who will give them. I love being touched. And it is a bit hard to ask in this world, and people sure look at you weird when you start touching them, randomly. I hate that (the funny looks, not the random touching).
9) Getting massages and seeing other healers. I have booked ended my surgery with two different massage practitioners. Before, the one who is like a safe, nurturing oasis. Whenever she works on me I totally forget where I am, what I am thinking and what I owe her (which has caused a few awkward moments). And after, I have the “work the heck out of my muscles” guy. To kick start me again. I have also booked a number of appointments, before and after, with my PT, energy worker that she is. My homeopath has me on aconite before (to calm me) and arnica after (to speed recovery of my body). Obviously I am not seeing an acupuncturist. My naturopath has me on rescue remedy for leading up to and the day of surgery, as well as the best vitamins going. Although who knew you had to refrain from things like garlic, ginseng, kava kava and valerian root a week before surgery because they can promote bleeding. And we don’t need any extra blood spurting around.
10) Rally the troops, far and wide. This means you. Creating my community and support around me. I talked about some of that on Feb 12th’s posting.
11) Accept the help when offered. Nuff said.
12) Getting pampered – scalp massages and pedicures work for me. Surgery is not an easy process, rewarding myself for doing my best and doing all that I can, well that just seems like a nice thing to do.
13) Eating right – yes, organic, that should be obvious. As is cutting out sugar, and coffee (not that I ever indulged), and meat and dairy. So if you are reading this and wondering what the hell left there is to eat, check out Sally Errey’s Staying Alive Cookbook (see my links) Good easy recipes, as well as some of the facts and theory behind what we eat and what we should be eating. For instance: did you know that almonds are a natural chemotherapy? Everybody (but the allergic) should eat 7 almonds a day, cancer survivors like myself should eat 20 (not sure I got that from Sally’s book, but interesting and important none the less!). Perhaps I need to write more on this later.
14) Meditating, whether that is actual sitting cross-legged and still for an hour, or a walking mediation, or a guided visualization or, in my case, quilting. Just something that quiets the mind, that focuses me.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. Brown paper packages tied up with string, these are a few of my favourite things.

Creating community

Today we had a Team Signy meeting. A group of about half a dozen women got together at my house and prepared me for surgery. Being women, we also ate some good food, and being my friends, we also meditated, chanted, prayed, and shared. The miracle of it is that in about half an hour we had brainstormed all that needed to be done, before, day of and after, and assigned roles for different key tasks.

So a bit of history on Team Signy is in order. Almost five years ago, when I got diagnosed with cancer I immediately called my 8 or so closest friends. The women I could count on. The people that I loved. I invited them to come and meet with me, and support me in my journey. Not surprisingly, all of them came. People want to help. I have already blogged about this, but it is so true it deserves repeating. When I ask, I will repeat that because it is key to the process and the point, WHEN I ASK for help, I am flooded with yeses. Flooded with offers. Flooded with people wanting to know what I need. And when a team/circle/posse/party of people shares the load, the load is lightened, even for the person who is under the knife and mainlining the chemo.

These people saved my life. In all ways: they carried the weight of daily life when I couldn’t (food shopping, apartment cleaning, meal making, sponge bathing); they created and protected the safe space for me to grieve, get angry, feel sorry for myself, the whole range; they were my hope on the days I ran out; they were my source of strength; they were the clear voice when I needed to make decisions but was overwhelmed. They were my north, my south, my east, my west, my working clothes, my Sunday best. And that was just the home team. I was in Roman Catholic prayer circles, prayed for in sweat lodges, was on the Dalai Lama’s prayer list and had all the witches of Norway working magic for me. I got so many cards, all filling my clear and specific request that I wanted them to tell me what about me inspires them, what do I bring to the planet, why and how is the world a better place because I am here (I needed to know this, to help me keep fighting on the dark days. And yes, there were dark days.). I put those cards on the wall, by my bed, to help me to remember my magnificence. Everyone, near and far, was a part of my healing.

Bottom line, this is not the time to go it alone, to be brave, to practice being independent. This is the time to ask for help. I need to keep remembering that people get from giving. They get their own sense of hope, they get to contribute. I believe we all hunger to be a part of a bigger whole, a part of a community.

So how do we do it, this creating community? Invite people in, ask for help, be willing to receive, open yourself up to receive some more, set aside the lying feelings of shame or incompetence (my grandmother role modeled this in the most amazing way. As she got old, she didn’t hide away, embarrassed about how her body was less able to take commands then it used to be. She just kept showing up and doing her best, being as present as she could and letting us love her. Boy, do I love her!). Let the people in, let them love you. This one act will explode your world. And that is where healing starts.

The glass slipper

ARRRGGGGHHHHH

I went into a gym today (those of you who know me well must be scratching your head in confusion, suffice it to say that it was recommended for the yoga classes and proximity to my home), hoping to get to sample some classes before considering joining. Seemed reasonable to me. So what went wrong? I got in there, asked for what I wanted, and was immediately sucked into a vortex of sales jargon and athletic attitudes. The fitness consultant started showing me around. I don’t want around, I want yoga. She pointed proudly to the treadmills. But I want yoga. She introduced me to the free weight section. I want yoga. She walked me through the showers. I WANT YOGA.

Then she trapped me in a room and started asking me questions. What changes was I looking to make? I want yoga. No really, what changes? I want to relieve some of my mounting tension, in other words, I want yoga. Are you looking to lose some weight? Do I look like I want to lose some weight? If I lost any weight over 5 lbs my doctors would hit the roof and then the panic button. I want yoga. Not only was this not getting me anywhere, it wasn’t even that entertaining, unless you are one of my friends, who gets joy out of watching me make people squirm just because I can. What package would you like? I want yoga. Do you want a membership that transfers to gyms in other cities? I WANT YOGA. What was so freakin’ hard to understand!?!?!?!? And why the hell was she not listening to me. In an industry reputed to be totally centered around customer service, how can you get away with spending 15 straight minutes ignoring what the customer is saying. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PEOPLE!!! Work with me!

The thing I know, and I suspect I am not the only one this applies to, is that when you don’t listen to me, I resist you. Really simple stuff here. When you don’t pay attention to what I am actually asking for, and in this case, it took a lot of work to not hear me, then I will dig in my heels. It is human nature. You have to meet me before you point me. In this situation, I believe that what happened was that she has an agenda, a script, a desired outcome that dictates how she behaves. And she has a system. Here is the thing. I DON”T FIT INTO A SYSTEM. I can’t be typecast, I don’t do what I am told, I am a wild card. I will not fit into the mold, I just won’t. If I even so much as catch the whiff of a mold, I will try to break it. You can’t chop off my toes and my heels and force me into the glass slipper. So stop trying.

And how is this related to my present circumstance (read: why the hell am I writing about it here, instead of just ranting to my friends). I remember when I got diagnosed with cancer, my doctor invited me to be really conscious and intentional (yes, I have a fun, flaky, signy-style MD, how exciting is that) about how I wanted to be with the process I was about to embark on. She warned me about the medical conveyor belt, and not to just hop on and “do what I was told”. She urged me to choose, really choose, and to explore and ask questions and not settle for stupid, pat, easy answers. Bless her.

I understand how systems come to be, the best possible way to meet the widest possible needs. But at some point or other, on some issue or other, we all fall beyond that easy category. We need something different, something outside the range of “normal” or “customary”. Recognizing when that is happening, and standing up for ourselves when it does, is so freakin’ important I can barely breathe when I think of someone forsaking this right and responsibility. So here is my question for you – where in your life are you forcing yourself to fit, and what are you going to do about it?

Fridays are hard

I was at yoga class today, you know, getting my body all limber and ready for the big day, and at the end, the final meditation, when we are meant to be clearing our minds and relaxing and being with our bodies, I got a bit too much with my body. But combined with an unclear mind. Which is bad, bad, bad news for me. Suddenly I noticed that it was just past 10am and it occurred to me that in exactly two weeks I will have already been operated on and be slowing coming to, with a big grog factor. My heart leapt into my throat and started pounding out the tune to Back in Black at full force. Sweet baby Jesus, this is not helping me become one with the carpet. Breath in, breath out, relax, r-e-l-a-x, RELAX! No, nothing seemed able to tune out the now faint strains of AC/DC in the background.

Anniversaries and pre-views. It is like my body remembers them or anticipates them. Some deep body memory or wisdom, it alerts me, asks me to pay attention. Even years out of chemotherapy, I will hit upon a day that is just another day, and my body is freaked out, scared, uptight, and well, nauseous. It makes no sense, there is no rational reason (recalling that I grew up in an academic household and so being rational, and reasonable for that matter, held a very high value). So I investigate (gee, seems like just referring to the academic perspective here has me now using words like investigate – what up with that?). Turns out it is the anniversary of the day I had chemo. It shouldn’t surprise me anymore. And maybe the anniversary part doesn’t, but the anticipation part, well dang, I just wish it wasn’t happening. My body can almost feel the needle enter my vein (am I really typing that??!?!), the cold whoosh of the new liquid pushing through it, the fine wire, the needle behind my breast (I don’t even want to picture how they accomplish that), and the incision. Maybe fainting is a way to relax myself. It shouldn’t be hard to try that under the circumstances.

Is it my creative mind, or my self-abusive nature that has me unable to stop thinking about it? Or could it be, like with basketball players picturing the winning hoop, I am walking myself through a successful procedure, so that when I am unconscious, my body will find its equilibrium easily. My body knows, it is wise. I have learned that over and over and over again. Mostly the hard way. But right now it seems that trusting it requires coming dangerously close to a mental precipice, inviting catastrophe. Is there an off switch for the brain? Not like I haven’t asked that question before, but for different reasons, and this one seems more important, useful, noble, all of the above. I just need it to stop. I need some peace. Mercy. Uncle. I give.

Father, into your hands, I command my spirit.

NOT giving my power away

Yikes. Today I was at an al anon meeting and I had a feeling. Not that I have been trying to avoid having a feeling, just that it took me a bit by surprise. You know, I thought I was just skipping along, everything fine, as fine as things can be, under the circumstances. Then WHAM, there it was, staring me in the face, all energetic and dramatic, like feelings can be (or my feelings anyway).

I was feeling scared. But not scared about the possibility of cancer, not even scared about the surgery. I was feeling scared that I might give my power away during these medical procedures. I hate that. I hate when I do that. I hate that I even spend time thinking about that.

Partly I am scared of this because I have done it before, this given my power away, especially to people in authority. Five years ago, when I was diagnosed with cancer I was sent to a surgeon who was startlingly condescending and uncompassionate, rolling her eyes as I asked the kinds of questions that anyone might ask having just received the news that they have cancer. It took me a couple of weeks and two cancelled surgeries to recognize that I was not comfortable putting my body in the care of this person. Mostly I hesitated to find a new surgeon because lots of onlookers to my process said things like “That is just what surgeons are like, you can’t expect them to have people skills, when they are dealing with unconscious bodies all day long”. Well in the end, that wasn’t good enough for me. But I needed to realize it. I needed to discover what was true for me and not worry about what other people thought of me or my decisions. I reclaimed my power the day I finally stood up to the surgeon. And the process of my taking responsibility for myself and my health continued throughout the cancer road.

It is up to me to get my needs met. No one else can do it. Bernie Siegel talks about the kind of patient that survives cancer. He says it is the person who fights, and fights back. These fighters will take on the disease head first, and face off against it and stare it down. Guess what, there are also the kinds of people that will fight their doctors, on something they don’t like about the surgery or whatever. These are the people that stand up for themselves.

And here I am again. On Feb 24th, these are people who can really mess with me if I am not “careful” (that is what I tell myself). “I don’t want to piss them off. What if I rock the boat, or annoy them or make their life more difficult and they decide to punish me. Punish me in a place I can’t fight back, when I am all unconscious and vulnerable.”

I can’t afford to look at it that way. I need to keep going into Cancer World, as many times as it takes, and not worry about being a squeaky wheel or a pain in the ass, and not worry about asking for too much. I need to do it because I need to do to it. And I get to do it because I am a child of god and I deserve to be well cared for. But making sure I get my needs met, that has to start with me. Ain’t no one else going to take the lead on this one. And, let’s face it, if they did, I would be annoyed at them for being “in charge”. Double yikes.

Being gentle with ourselves (this means you)

Along with remembering to choose joy, being gentle with myself is a huge lesson that I seem to need to learn over and over again. I am so used to struggling, so used to trying hard and working hard and just generally either assuming life is hard or making life hard that being gentle seems foreign, awkward, even wrong at times. But, usually, the worse things get the more I need to be gentle with myself.

For me, gentle usually looks like forgiving myself my human foibles, as in not roasting myself on the spit of self-criticism. It is taking the time to do things, really going at my own pace, instead of rushing. It is backing off and not pushing harder when pushing harder has not been working for days, or hours, or even minutes. Gentle is cutting myself some slack. Not expecting everything to be done perfectly. And let’s face it, I always create a “to do” list that is unrealistic, I recognize that at the beginning of the day when I make it, I tell myself it is so that I stretch myself, challenge myself, it will ensure that I get more things done in a day. But by the time the end of the day has rolled around I have convinced myself that the list was do-able, I just wasn’t good enough. That kind of thinking and behaving has got to go. It doesn’t serve me. It doesn’t serve others.

Ironically in my work as a life coach, many people come to coaching wanting that someone to chase them down, to hold their feet to the fire and really give them hell when they don’t do that one important thing they committed do. But when we get to coaching, what they really need is to learn how and when to be gentle, to have compassion for themselves.

The metaphor I used the other day with a friend is that of a guitar string. As I try to tighten it to get the right sound, stretching it further and further, longer and longer, I run the risk of snapping the string. Somehow I keep thinking that it can take being tightened just a smidge more, just one tiny smidge more again. I assume that it will take too much precious time to loosen the string and start again. And then I am so startled when the string breaks. Picture the surprise (not to mention annoyance) when I realize how much more time it is going to take to have to go to the store, buy a new string, remove the old one, put in the new one and tighten it. The same is true of my life. I can choose to back off, give myself a break, and be gentle, thereby ensuring that my mental or physical “string” does not snap. Isn’t that easier, more worthwhile and more efficient then everything I will have to do to get myself back on track if I push myself too hard (all the while thinking I don’t have time to be gentle).

The choice is mine. The decision starts now.

Making Comments

I have gotten a bit of phone and email feedback that some folks are having a hard time figuring out how to make comments, so I will quickly outline it here.

At the bottom of each discrete posting there is a line that says who posted this particular piece as well as a part that has a little word bubble and pencil beside it. It says a number and comments. So... "2 comments", something like that. What you want to do is click your mouse over the "2 comments" part and then it will open up a new page. Where the cursor is in that little window on the right is where you write whatever comment you want to make, and sign your name. Then below that you want to click the "button" beside Anonymous. Then either preview it (by pressing the grey button) or publish it by pressing the blue button.

Happy commenting!

Feeling sorry for myself

Today, I am feeling sorry for myself. Not in the traditional self pity, "woe is me" sort of way, although I am sure I could muster it, given slightly more provocation (Christ, how much more provocation do I need, my more effusive half says). But rather, I am feeling sorry for my body (yes I do realize that I have started splitting off parts of myself, mind, body, etc, and no, I do not think it is a condition). Here is this noblest of creatures, the human body. This never-ending, always-willing, deeply committed best friend just keeps giving and giving. It gets poked and prodded on a good day, and now it would appear, sliced and diced on a bad day. That's a lot to ask. An awful lot to ask. I mean I would think twice before happily giving up my kidney to a family member. I would probably do it, but I would think twice. Even three times. And know that I would forever remind them how much I gave.

So what do I owe this gracious body of mine, that tolerates my almost constant taking-it-for-granted, assuming-it-will-be-there-when-I-need-it, dismissive-of-it's-needs abuse. Sure I could bother eating right, or going to yoga now and then, or giving in to sleep when I am exhausted, or for heaven's sake have a bit of fun now and again. You know, body fun, like dancing, or laughing or having all my senses fully engaged. But do I? Nooooooo. I only do it when I have to. When it might cost me something if I don't. This should not be too much to ask. It is so little the body yearns for in return for it's slavish devotion.

And what has happened to us as a world that our bodies are an after thought. We see them only as a vehicle to take us places, instead of the fine instrument that they can be, that they long to be. And, to be honest, I treat my car better than my body. Now is that just because my car has a little light that comes on saying "maintenance required" when I am abusing it? If my body had the same would it get more attention? Or, is this situation my little light, coming on, saying "Damn it Signy, you have been ignoring me for months now, and I have had enough." My body can't divorce me if I don't shape up, and I can't trade my body in like a used car. We need to learn to work together. And the start of that process is me coming to respect my body. Love, honour, cherish and respect. I owe it to my own body, and if I can't give it to my own body, can I really give it to anyone else?

Cancer World

I went into Cancer World on Friday.

Before I talk about my visit, I have had a few raised eyebrows and comments on this "Cancer World", so let me explain. Four years ago, when Team Signy had it's debut, we were very clear, we wanted to make everything as fun as we could. Yes, that's right, everything about cancer, as fun as we could. So, we figured... Cancer World, kind of like a theme park, different rides every few months, a little scary, but kind of exciting at the same time (with the right perspective), some rides required adult supervision, you get it.

So now back to the mission. Cancer World, on Friday. I thought I had better go in, early, and find out exactly what we are talking about here. No point in getting any unpleasant surprises (you know, if you are going to go to the ride called "Hell's Gate", you want to find out a bit more, I always say, not that I lack a sense of adventure, just sometimes you want to be a bit, well, informed). So, I planned to storm the castle walls, fully expecting the usual resistance and medical obfuscation that had come to be a regular part of my recent visit's to see Dr. Chia and his friends, Goofy and Grumpy.

I was met by a welcome surprise; the front desk gal was helpful, useful and kind. God be praised. This IS promising. Could Cancer World have recently received a much needed intravenous cash infusion? Up to the second floor, the exact trail I would be walking 3 weeks hence. Turn right and right off the elevator. Into a room. It is empty, apart from those terrible plastic and metal beds, all lined up in a row, waiting. Waiting for people like me. Yikes. About to turn and run, a gentle presence found her way in front of me. She had heard I was coming. How can she help? Two out of two, I am on a role. She sits me down, and we start talking. I am talking topical Novocain, and slathering my entire right breast if I have to, to avoid the feeling of the needle pin prick (recall, I am expecting a fine wire insertion and a needle for local freezing behind my breast - even typing it makes my teeth dance in my mouth). She starts inspecting the back of my hand. Oh great, with the labour market shortage they have now started hiring less than bright and clear thinking nurses. No, no, my breast, my right breast, that is what needs the Novocain. Unperturbed she points out the great veins on my left hand. I accept the compliment, unfazed and undeterred from my mission. Then slowly the fog clears. No, that's not the right metaphor; the veil gets ripped from before my eyes. YOU ARE PLANNING TO PUT IN AN INTRAVENOUS LINE!!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU MAD???? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM???? We are having local freezing, we don't need a general anaesthetic. Now she must think I am the slow one, as she patiently tries to pry me off the ceiling.

Whose crazy ass idea was this??!?!? And why didn't Kuusk tell me? What am I saying, of course she didn't tell me, she knows full well I would have walked away from the surgery, laughing at the 30% chance of cancer in the face of a 100% chance of an IV line. Christ, and now I am committed and not one to go back on promises easily. It was all part of her crafty plan.

So after the nurse, looking more and more like Florence Nightingale, sat me back up in my chair and helped me to return my breathing to at least close to normal, she gently reassured me. Actually, she kind of playfully reassured me, which goes over well with me. Soon we were laughing about the happy drugs I will receive through the very drip that had just sent cold chills up my spine. And she was riffing off a comment I had made about not having many good little friends in the back of my right hand (where they did all the chemo IVs), and pointing to the delightful, easily assessable little friend on my left hand (which I had thought could never be used because of the lymph nodes that had been removed from that arm). Bless her for her love, and her kindness and her patience. For her understanding, her willingness to meet me where I was and not fix me or shame me (yes, nurses have tried that tact with me before, to no avail), but dance with me, and create something that works for me. What a bright light she is. And while I am very grateful to Lynne, and it helps to know that she will be with my on the day of the surgery, I can still feel my heart pound and the bile at the back of my throat just thinking about this new hurdle, my perennial challenge.

Thank goodness I have the opportunity to prepare this time around. Thank goodness I have the love of good friends, and their creative ideas to help me address this looming spectre. For I certainly don't know how I would cope with it alone. So bless you, dear readers, dear friends, for your love and kindness and creativity and willingness to follow me back down this dark, lonely road again. You are the strength that keeps me going.

Choosing JOY (and blueberries)

The day I went to see the surgeon, I also had an appointment with my Physiotherapist. She is really more of an energy healer than at PT, but that is why I like her so much! So naturally, she has a few things to weight in on about health issues.

Not a surprise to either of us, she reported that I don't have anything that feels anything like cancer. Ok, good. So, what else? She said she saw it like a "Do over". You know, what ever the things that I had managed to forget, that apparently were really important for me to remember, I get to go back and start again, wipe the slate clean and really get it, at an even deeper level this time. Cool! We never did "Do overs" when I was a kid.

So what was this really important thing that I forgot, I wondered. Causing poor Bev (PT) to stand there with her mouth hanging open. "You need to stop, you need to stop, you need to stop doing the things you are doing!!! You know the things that are sucking the life out of you! WAKE UP! Where have you been?" (yes, she really does talk to me like that, God I love people that aren't intimidated by me).

"Oh yeah, that. OH YEAH, THAT! Oh my god, how do I stop, how do I learn to stop, how do I know when to stop", I said, hitting my panic botton at the same time. "I know what you mean, there is a line, a line I cross, but I don't know what the line is, I don't know how to recognize it. HOW WILL I RECOGNIZE IT!!!!" (now you can see why is it so important for me to feel my feelings regularly, otherwise they get channeled into unhealthy expressions).

She didn't need to slap me across the face, all she did was, in a quiet little voice, a bit like a 5 year old's, say "joy". What do you mean? (now more loudly and forcefully) "Joy." "Joy, that's the line you can't cross.". Now it was my turn, mouth open, eyes incredulous. Joy, yes, yes it is joy. I totally got it. It all made sense. When I choose people pleasing over joy, when I choose good ideas, or strategic plans, or doing it right or expectations of others or ought to's over joy, over fun, over my heart, over what makes me happy and sing and dance (which, by the way, brings me joy - that is some help I need, take me dancing!!!). When I do that, it doesn't work! What doesn't work? My life doesn't work, my whole life, I shrivel up, I forget who Signy is, I stop seeing myself as precious and important. No, no, no. From now on... NO MORE.

I CHOOSE JOY!!!

Now, how do I actually live that? Well, we shall see, and I shall keep you updated. But so far so good.

The help I need

THE HELP I NEED

People really are so wonderful. They minute they hear that something is up, they lovingly offer, "Is there anything I can do to help. Really, anything." And I know they mean it, and I love them for it. So let me just say it now... THANK YOU!

And here is the challenge it creates. I have to figure out what I want and need help with. Damn. That could be the hardest part (well, there are those that say that asking is the hardest part, and thank Goddess that that is not true for me). That first moment of hearing bad news is so hard, so overwhelming, so confusing. And much as I long to think practically in that moment when people ask how they can help, well, truth is, I am usually in my feelings. Either in my feelings or trying hard not to be in my feelings.

So now, with a clearer (read: post feeling my feelings, not getting around my feelings) head, I offer up some ideas of what I need, and even perhaps the kinds of things that other people could need in these sorts of situations, were they able to quickly access their thoughts.

For me, and I know not everyone shares this need during this vulnerable time, I need company. Lots of company, before and after the surgery (like about at least a week to either side), and for those inclined to other plains, I will even take during the surgery. Being alone is not how I recover (well, being alone is not how I do anything, given the choice).

So what are the things that company can do to help me. Well, firstly, there are the things I need that might fall under the category of "Qualities", and which of them are needed and the amount of them I need varies depending on, well, who knows, but what I am saying is that these require feeling in and sensing the climate.

Here goes:
A) Distraction. Distraction from the many, crazy thoughts and fears that come and go.
B) Room/permission/encouragement to feel my feelings, as they come up. There are lots of them. They all want space. Sometimes what I need is someone to help me feel my feelings, to midwife them, so to speak. I still fall pray to wanting to think things to death (in some cases literally, it would seem), figure them out, be rational. It is other people reminding me that feelings are essential to creating the clear mindedness that helps me move to that clear mindedness.
C) Uplifting. This looks two different ways: Inspiration and Laughter.

Secondly, there are the activities, and there is plenty of room for different levels of involvement here.

1) Planning the surgery day and the recovery needs. I am not good at planning, not my skill set, so any help I can get, greatly appreciated.

2) Meals - preferably to have together, but I will also take a dairy free casserole any day of the week.

3) Walks - for exercise and to connect.

4) Exercise Buddies - for before surgery jogging, yoga, raquetball. For after, probably walks to begin with.

5) Food shopping - either with me or for me, depending on my mobility.

6) Someone to take me to and from the surgery (doesn't need to be the same person). And perhaps related to that, but also doesn't need to be, someone to sleep over the night before and the night after.

7) Fun Buddies - dancing, movies, plays, any of your creative ideas of fun.

8) Picking up perscriptions and such. Unless the planning people have gotten me so well lined up that I do that beforehand.

9) Sending inspiring pictures or poems to me to put on the blog.

10) A communications manager - for the days I can't deal with all the love pouring in (can you imagine?)


So there is it, for now. Please let me know, either by commenting or emailing me, if you can and want to help me in any of these ways. And know that just your prayers and love are more than enough. I appreciate every piece.

Blessings on you.

So here we go again

Good Friends,

You have been patiently (some more than others) waiting for news. And so here it is. But recalling requests of the past, I want to give you options: a short and a long version. The essential details will appear in bold, the rest is just in case you are curious...

While I am not afraid that I am being once again chased by the dragon (the feeling it quite different, it isn't fear and a sinking sensation in my heart, but rather annoyance and frustration - of course, with me, when is it not annoyance and frustration), in my surgeon's keen and humourous way, it was made clear to me that this is no small thing. There is a 30% chance that what I am dealing with is cancer, and the Radiologist is not an extra cautious gal, sending people to their surgeons willy nilly, but rather the opposite, and so on Feb 24th (the day after my dear friend, Lisa's, birthday, and the day before my mother's birthday, sorry darlings, there were no choices) I am having local freezing, and day surgery at Cancer World. I arrive at the hospital at 7:20am, have the fine wire (to guide the surgeon's blade to the precise spot, since the calcifications are so small and hard to find) inserted under ultrasound guidance at 8:20am, and surgery starts at 8:30am (not sure when they freeze me, or when then knock me out, because knock me out they must). I should be home by noon. I will take a week or so to recover at home. I should get test results back in a week, I am guessing March 6th or 7th, which I expect to be all clear (I guess the people at Cancer World need a second round of Signy, to really learn their lessons, because certainly, I don't need a second round of them).

So that is the information, but how am I feeling? As my grandmother would say of this situation, "It's a dirty trick". I couldn't agree more. I feel overwhelmed and annoyed, I feel scared of surgery and sad to put my body through it. I am sure you can picture it. And, as always, I will pull out of those feeling and attack this new challenge with passion, fire, and a dash of irreverence.

In this moment I am not totally clear about what support I need (apart from the perpetual request for prayers and loving thoughts, before - for sanity, during - for the clear minds and steady hands of my health care team, and after - for patience and faith as I await the results, due a week after surgery). For the away team, cards, counting the ways you love me are always welcome (not sure if I want this because I am about to go in for surgery, or just because I love being loved). For the home team, well you can always send cards too if the spirit moves you, and prayer goes without saying, and once I have a clearer idea of my concrete needs I will send up a flare and ask for help and we can take it from there.

To ease the process of things like sending up flares, information dissemination, etc. I have set up a blog. The site is www.teamsigny.blogspot.com. This is where I intend to put updates as well as more lengthy postings outlining my journey and learning's along the way. Read what you want, leave the rest. There is room there for comments (set yourself as anonymous and then sign your name at the end if you don't have an account) at the bottom of postings. Please feel free to share your process or your love or whatever, or you can send me emails directly instead. But from here on in, this is where I will put info, rather than send out emails to everyone, so please check there if you want to learn what's up, what's next and what I need. It means you can be most current, with least hassle (does this mean I have entered the new era? Well, if there is one thing I have learned from Cancer, it is to use the technology that serves my best interest. So here I am, extrapolating my learning.)

As always, thank you so much for your ongoing love and support and I know that with you in my corner, everything will be ok!!!

Love,
Signy