Apologies

Wow, travelling and leading and vacationing put a bit of a kink into the otherwise smooth process of blogging. Sorry I dropped off the face of the earth there, without so much as a warning. Well, I guess you had a bit of a warning, and then I daringly tried to keep up the blogging while away, and boom, GONE. If you are a blogger yourself you might have been able to point out the challenges of this unlikely cocktail combination of activities to me, but would I have listen, hmmm, maybe not. So now, next time I am away, I will try something different (like letting you know I'll be gone and not pretending that I will be able to both be away and blog, at the same time, OR creating a bunch of posts ahead of time and then just having to upload them at the appropriate moment/day). Don't you just love trying and failing and then trying something new?

And, since I am not actually home yet (just no longer leading a workshop), don't expect a real, juicy update/posting until sometime Wed or Thurs (depending primarily on my jetlag).

Thanks for hanging tight with me while I learn.

Sally Vs. The Nutritionist

As I mentioned in my last post, over the years I have been moving toward a better and more holistic way of eating, even before I got diagnosed with cancer. I had already come to see the impact that eating had on my energy levels and on my body in general. I had noticed that when I respect my body, it respects me back, that putting high quality into my body (you know, organic food, extra virgin olive oil, etc) produced higher quality output from my body, and that how I treated food was reflected in how it treated me (so for instance, when I saw food as just like the gasoline that I needed to run my car, a utility thing, then it didn't give back as much as when I saw it as the building blocks of all of who I am, that permits me to think more clearly, act more quickly and generally function better). Yes, it would be true to say that I am a convert to ye old adage “You get out what you put in.”

When I got diagnosed with cancer I got to see how other people related to food -good, bad and, well, it's true, ugly- and what impact that had. This furthered my growing perspective that food must be respected. So, today, I want to show the juxtaposition of two different styles of health care provider and how their perspectives on food changed how I think.

After I was diagnosed, but before my surgery, I went to the Centre for Integrated Healing here in Vancouver for their Introductory Program. As part of the program we discussed the impact of diet on the body's ability to heal itself, to fight off illness and to support the immune system. Good stuff. Not new stuff, but it was so great to get it broken down and made visible and clear. Then we got to hear from Sally Errey , who works at the centre, speaks at this Introductory Programs, leads cooking (and other) workshops and does 1:1 councelling around diet and health. I believe she is a registered nutritionist, certainly she is well trained and informed, but that is not what was most important and remarkable about her. This woman is full of energy and passion. She was not trying to protect us or comfort us, she did not feel sorry for us or talk down to us. She was brimming over with enthusiasm. She talked about food like it was her best friend. She was so sure about this and so committed to passing on her knowledge and passion that soon I was filled with a desire to know more, to learn and to get to be good friends with food. God bless her, while I was already moving in that direction this was still a bit of a coo. She made it simple. She made it fun. She gave me a new respect for and love of food. Looking through her eyes, I see the power of how it can heal my body, and nurture me as it gives me nutrition, and not in that comfort way, but in a “bring you more alive” way. And what is what I want to be after talking to her, more alive!

It was after I had been through the program at the Centre that she started working on her book, Staying Alive , a cook book with the success stories of cancer survivors (in which I am featured, even more true, now that I am five years successful!) along with their favourite recipes and Sally's information around important nutritional facts about how to kick cancer's ass through diet. I totally recommend it; her passion comes through on the pages.

Now, compare this to the woman that I went to see at Cancer World during or maybe it was after radiation treatment was done. She is a nutritionist. Probably very certified and maybe quite experienced. She may even be committed to and passionate about food and nutrition. But it just didn't come through; it wasn't in her voice, or her eyes. There was a dead quality, a rote-ness to her. And there was a condecending way about her, or maybe it was pity, for my plight. For her, this meeting, this session with me, it seemed to be more about the job, or more about the rules, or something else for her, but not about the passion. The councelling she gave me was about the basics, and not about getting me excited or seeing the possibility or any such thing. She showed me how big the portions could and should be. She told me that my meal should be balanced, and contain all the suggested food groups. She suggested that maybe I should cut out things like alcohol and coffee. Most of what she said was the stuff they talked about in grade four, when they introduced the food topic in school. What was I learning here? No new information. No excitement. No creativity. This was not the thing that would change the way I related to food and would have me WANT to eat better. This was not fun, or simple or anything but disheartening.

Now I am lucky, I had both experiences and I got to choose which one to live by and with. Plenty of people just get exposed to the one. Where are they supposed to get their hope, and enthusiasm and passion? I guess it becomes their job to create their own, but that is not so easy when we have so little community around cancer. And, frankly, around living.

I must tell you though, I went away from that appointment with the nutritionist wishing that there was a post cancer treatment centre, where survivors and families and friends could go for lessons in how to live, how to really live. And why to live. To be called forth to passion and purpose and life. To really get excited again! Really. Excited. I mean we need something like that right? So who's in? Who wants to help me create such a wonderful, magical place?

My Relationship With Food

So, back to blogging about food. Not that what I want to write about right now is exactly about food per se, but more about my journey around and with food, and about the people that helped me on the road to respecting food and eating better. And the tips for doing just that.

Let me set the stage… I have spent my whole adult life knowing that something was wrong, knowing that the way I was cooking and the things I was cooking were leaving something to be desired, but I didn’t know how to fix it, what else to do, how to change my crazy ways.

So my basic challenges around food were… I hated cooking, I hated shopping, and I hated eating. When I was in a phase of trying to turn that around and “be good with food”, I would go to the store, buy a whole bunch of “good food” and then wait for inspiration to strike, to decide on some excellent meal to make. But then, when the mood finally hit me, I didn’t have all the ingredients I needed. How could that be? I had just been shopping, I had tons of good food in the house. But you see none of it went together. No recipe called for cabbage and basil (or not one that I know of, but now with the internet, I am sure I could look it up and find SOMETHING!?!?). So I would end up with rotting food in my fridge and eating out. Again. Or worse, eating the ever so easy… cheese and crackers. Yikes that is a tumour waiting to happen. What about leafy greens? What ever happened to Omega 3 oils? What about food full of anti-oxidants? I didn’t have time, or the organizational skills to make it work. Or so I thought.

So how did things change? It started with having dinners over at my friend Madeleine’s house. I would come over, and she would gaze absentmindedly into her fridge and take things out that I had no idea how she planned to combine to make us a meal. But she did. And it was always fabulous. Fabulous! How? It boggled my mind. So I just kept watching and learning. After some time I noticed patterns in her work. She had certain staples always on hand. But good staples. Not like my cheese staples. And she knew certain foods that were friends. But even so, she did this other thing, she was always ad libbing, free pouring, making up the proportions as she went along. It was a beauty to behold. And slowly I learned my way into it. I started trusting myself, which is really what she does I think. And I started experimenting and being willing to be wrong and be ok with that. But truly, when you know the basics, that being which foods are best friends, which are acquaintances and which are enemies, things get easier fast.

But how does one learn that, especially without a mentor? Here is what I did. I started perusing the cook book aisle in the book store. And I would leaf through various books, until I found some I liked. And those I would buy. Or when at friend’s houses, I would ask them about their favourite cook books, and look through them. I would see recipes I liked, and would get excited about making them. It would inspire me. And that got me moving.

The final piece? I took a class. No, not on cooking. That is easy enough, I can follow a recipe. So a class on what, you ask? Well, it is a bit hard to say in one catchy line (which might be why she is no longer offering them). They were about being prepared. About getting your act together. See, neither of those lines makes it appealing, so let me just describe it. She had these weekly calendar sheets of paper, and on them we would write down what commitments we had that week, so that we knew, realistically (this might be the key right here) when we could cook meals and when leftovers could work, etc. Then she had us go through our favourite cookbooks and pick out meals we were drawn to and likely to make. Then we wrote down which meals we were hoping to make on which days, as well as what page and what book they were from. We wrote the book and pages right there, next to the name, so as not to have to hunt to find them later on. Then on the back of the calendar we were to list all the ingredients that we needed but didn’t already have for those recipes, for that week. Now we had our shopping list. We were to go, and buy all those things and no more, and trust that we had all the right ingredients (and no more) to make those meals. Then, as each day came, we had our meals to make already all planned out, with the recipe close at hand, all the ingredients right there, and no pesky decisions to make (that is one of the things that always slows me down in those moments, “What shall I make, what shall I make?”).

For me it works. Not perfectly, but better than any system I was using before. And now I don’t have food going rotten in the bottom drawer, I don’t skip meals, I don’t need to eat out (unless I want to), and what is more, I am ready and it is easy to invite friends over for dinner. Over time I have started to develop a list of my favourite recipes (and even adjust them a bit) and through reading and using recipes that work, I have come to know what foods are friends with each other, and so I get more and more creative as I have come to trust myself.

Cancer threw a wrench in the works, another thing to adjust to, but now I had the skills to do that. And so, it was just a matter of fine tuning and learning more about what foods are good friends with cancer and what foods are its arch enemy. And trust me, there is plenty written about that. Over the next little while, as part of my blogging, I hope to throw in a few posts that highlight the friends and enemies of cancer and other such important tidbits. To encourage you to start exploring and branching out.

And one final nugget on this topic… the most important thing that I learned over the last 7 or so years about cooking is that it can be fun. In fact the more fun you make it, the easier it gets and the more rewarding it is. So, if cooking or cooking well has been a challenge for you, consider trying the above or some variation of it (as well as considering trying to make it FUN), as an experiment, and see how it turns out for you.

Heading Out

Two things. Both detail-y.

I came across a great article on some self care tips and active involvement upon getting diagnosed with cancer (this is coming from the medical establishment, no less), so I wanted to highlight that for anyone wanting a good little read. It is also great for anyone supporting someone who just got diagnosed, to help you know how to direct your loved one.

The second thing is that I am on the eve of heading out for a vacation. I will be away from my home base for about 11 days. And since it seemed somehow above and beyond the call of duty to ask my cat sitter to take over my blogging responsibilities too, well I am going to do my best to post from the road (don’t you just love technology, that I can do that!!!). Not sure how it will work. Not sure how frequently I will be able to put something together. So stay with me while I explore and experiment, and I will let you know how it goes.

Success

It means lots of things. Different things for different people. For some it is about finding the perfect job, one that fulfills and challenges them; others it is measured in dollar amounts, their net worth, their income; for still others in personal achievements like building a strong community, or finding a wonderful mate, or raising a healthy family. The list must be endless. And very possibly a moving target, once we hit one bench mark, or finally get the proverbial A grade in one area, then we start yearning for the next accomplishment, the next demonstration of our worth.

What an impossible task. An uphill struggle.

And for so many we don’t even know what would actually make us HAPPY (perhaps just one more possible definition of success), and so instead of taking the time to uncover that important piece of information, we reference from outside. We wonder or figure out either what would make others happy or what they think is an appropriate definition of success and go shoot for that. And then there are societally sanctioned goals: a good education, financial security, a family. Or perhaps we look to our peer group’s standard, or the standard of the peer group we long to fit into. Or we look to our family’s perspective on what makes someone a good person, a successful person.

Upon some reflection, for me, success needs to equal happiness. And frankly, I think the only way I can really define my own success would be through the question “Am I being the most Signy I can be, in any given moment, the most true to myself?” There lies the source of my happiness, and my north star, and the path to my destiny (whatever that may be and how ever successful I am at reaching it). Sadly, for years (perhaps decades) I have been looking outside for the definition and the approval that comes with accepting other people’s definition and expectations to reach them. It is a very secure place to look, but also a disappointing one, because even if I reach others people’s goals, it is usually at the expense of my own or myself, or knowing myself, or my own true expression. So… not worth it. Not worth other people’s pats on the back when I am giving myself a kick in the pants (and not the good kind of kick in the pants).

So as I step out into a new world. One that I get to define as I want (love anniversaries, and rituals, they give us chances to choose again, to decide anew and pick where we want to start focusing as of this moment), I think I will get more conscious about this game, and I will choose to define success by happiness, my happiness. And whether I feel that I am being true to myself and expressing myself authentically.

And then again, I need to remember, that I have already been successful, by all definitions, in that, today, defying odds and laughing in the face of statistics, I am alive. And that particular success is enough to last a lifetime, however long that lifetime is.

Blue Denim

I forgot that I had planned to post a poem that my dear friend Rhiannon Dacosta had written for me 5 years ago today as she flew across the country to be with me for my surgery. I guess May 15th was one of those days where you were to wear denim in support of and to raise funds for cancer research (not sure if it was breast cancer research specifically or not). Here goes...


Blue Denim

Strange day...
I have travelled 3000 miles
Her hand to hold
Warm in my own
as I remember, always
To sit awhile
To pray...
While she slumbers,
Dreams unnatural dreams
And wakes to find the world has changed...
For want of better.
And I will sit...
Here
Silent in my prayers
For however long it takes...
Forever
And blue denim I will wear for you.

Rhiannon Dacosta
May 15, 2001

Turn Over

Today I went to see my doctor for my mammogram results (not that she had them yet, but never mind, I am sure they are fine, right?). And for the turn over. It is one more marker that I am about to be released back into the regular world. Every 6 months for the last 5 years I have been to see my medical oncologist. He is the one that gave my chemotherapy protocols and he is the one that follows me. He checks up on me, he does my breast exams, he asks me the invasive questions. All him. Today, I went back to my own doctor, my GP, the one who told me in the first place that I had cancer. From here on in I will see her once a year, and then six months later I will see the med onc again. Not sure how long this continues, but for now, this is the new routine.

Funny, I thought I would feel relieved, released, set free. Rather I feel some trepidation, and vulnerability. Like when I was released from active treatment, so many years ago, there is a sense of having the safety of a routine removed. Now there is an unknown. And it is up to me to create my own “what’s next”, my own health regime, my own structure for living. While an exciting proposition, like the last time I was here, it is a bit daunting, mostly because I wasn’t expecting it. And wasn’t expecting it to feel this way. So here I am, on the verge of a new life, and a new way of life (possibly). Wish me luck!

Five Years of Trying Hard

There is a commitment you make when you are fighting for your life, like a backroom deal, “If I get a second chance, I promise, promise, promise, that I will get everything I can out of every tiniest part of my life. I will squeeze the life out of each minute, even each second, please, please, please, let me have my life back.” Some of us get lucky, and then we pay the price.

Now as I am approaching 5 years clean, it is safe to say that I have been granted that wish, given that second chance. I have been given a new life and the opportunity to live better. But, I haven’t kept my part of the bargain. For better or for worse the way that I define “living better” is to make a difference, to have an impact. And what I promised was to do it always, always, always. To keep my eye on that ball and constantly look from that lens. Well? Do I do that? Do I constantly make a difference, and have an impact, forsaking all others? The answer is Noooo. Why? Because it is not possible. It is not possible to work 24/7, it is not possible to only give and never replenish myself, it is not possible to only live for the cause. The way I have set it up is impossible. I can’t be making a difference every hour of every day. I have to sleep. I have to have down time. I have to do self-care and make room for my feelings (which I don’t hold as being mutually exclusive to getting things done, but rather the space maker and the catalyst that eventually allows me to get on with getting things done) and life and a whole myriad of other things.

Knowing this logically doesn’t mean I don’t haunt myself with that deal (sometimes wonder if it was with the devil for how hard I drive myself about it). I keep telling myself I could have done more. I could have written the book. I could have started a foundation. I could have created a huge fundraiser. I could have lobbied for more government funding. I could have done a cross North American tour extolling the virtues of prevention. All noble causes. All good things to do. All something I planned to do. And because I want to do them all, I don’t seem to be able to pick which one to start with.

Perhaps, now with the 5-year mark coming up, I get a second second chance. Maybe this time I can offer up a reasonable part of my heart and my soul, instead of all of it. I can enjoy the life I was given as well as do something useful with it. I can play with kittens and kids. I can go for long walks in the twilight sun. I can enjoy long conversations or deep silences with a friend. I can laugh uncontrollably and not feel guilty that I should be saving the world instead. And lets get real, I am not able to stop wanting to make a difference, but maybe I can let go of how I thought I was going to do that. Maybe I can let go of plans that have created expectations that hurt me. Maybe I can say goodbye to writing the book. Or to writing it the way I thought I was suppose to. Maybe it is time to let go of outdated commitments and start fresh. Start creating new visions and new wishes and new dreams. Perhaps that is the gift I can give myself on my upcoming 5th birthday, my re-birth day. It is time to see what is in my heart today, and stop trying so hard to live yesterday’s vision.

How To Celebrate?

Here is one of the huge advantages, for me, of getting quiet and listening to my body. I get very useful bits of information. I had been thinking, as I approach my 5 year clean date, that I need to have a big party, a celebration, like a “Signy’s Happy Boobs” Party. Now, the day is an awkward day (Tuesday), and I am just about to head out of town, so for a great number of reasons, a big honking party is not in order. But to just let the day go by unmarked, that is really, really wrong in the way I run my life. I mean here is my body, this fabulous unsung hero, this vessel that isn’t just seaworthy, that isn’t just taking me across the ocean, but one that has deflected submarine fire during the voyage. This deserves some great praise, some large recognition, some hearty acknowledgement. It’s kudos time!!!

So what’s a gal to do? Well, I don’t know what other gals do, but the obvious choice for me… A Ritual. A timeout to stop, get still, and be with the Goddess. To thank Her, to praise Her. And to thank, recognize and honour the people who got me here. Who got me out alive. The where, the what, the how, the who. These are all still taking shape (yes, even so close to the event, but for the very best of rituals, I find they need be organic, and come from the heart, otherwise they are empty ceremonies, not one bit alive, and since being alive is what I am celebrating, how wrong would that be??!?!). Fortunately, ritual has always come easily and naturally to me, and so I will let this one come to me, when and as it is ready. It only makes sense that I will honour myself in figuring out how to honour myself. Yes?

Now these last two paragraphs are not to say that there will not be a party. That would be remise of me. But the party will wait. Because I have a whole, huge, big, long lifetime ahead of me and I am no longer in a race again time, I am no longer in a rush. And so the party will wait. It will wait until I am back. It will wait until I am ready. It will wait until some time in June or July.

Coming Up to FIVE Years!!!!

Head’s Up.

May 16, 2006 is my 5^th birthday of being cancer free. This is a big, fat, hairy, audacious deal!!!! As of that day I will re-join the ranks of “normal” (in as much as is possible, given the circumstances of who I am at the core). Which means what? That I am back down to the likelihood of my getting breast cancer being only one in nine (odds that I am both excited and not excited about, if you know what I mean).

I wanted to post a note ahead of time that so that you could celebrate with me should you so choose. Because here is the thing, I am not just celebrating for me. I am celebrating for all the other people who make it to a big benchmark. And I am honouring all the people that don’t. And I am celebrating and honouring all the people that made it possible that I am here, alive today. The men and women who put their all into supporting me and loving me and reminding me of all the good reasons to go through all the nasty things I had to go through. The people that fed me, that cleaned me, that made me laugh, that flew out to be with me, that stayed home to be with me, that lessen the pain, that sat with me in the pain and didn’t try to lessen it, that let me vent, that pointed me to options, that took me to treatments, that prayed for my good health and peaceful state of mind, that sent me cards and letters and love, that cheered me from the sidelines, that participated in the fray, that fought off crazy health care providers, that stood up for me, that encouraged me to stand up for myself, that held me big, that let me be small, that got me up trees, that took me through rituals, that shaved my head, that painted my toes, that rubbed my bald scalp, that cleaned my apartment, that laughed at my jokes, that read my emails, that cried with me, that took me to appointments, that made fun of the doctors, that encouraged my wild authenticity, that danced with me. Clearly the list is endless. As is my gratitude and my excitement!

So, Whoo Freakin’ Hoo!!!!!!!!!!!!! For you, all of you. For me (all of me). For staying alive. For being alive. For life. I can’t tell whether my body wants to laugh or cry. Gratitude is funny that way. Thank you, thank you, thank you. For all of you. Being in my life. You make all the difference!

Signy's Home Made Power Bars

Who knew.

In a randomly inspired desire to see if my name is recognizable by google (really wondering if my website has been wormed by google yet), I came across my recipe for Home Made Power Bars on the Alive website. What a riot. I am pretty sure it got there through Sally Errey's publication of it for a seminar she was doing to promote her cook book Staying Alive.

Well how perfect is that, in the middle of me writing about a sugar free life, along comes one of my sugar free recipes. One of the sweet thing that I allow myself to have that keeps me going when I am craving easter chocolates. And I don't even have to retype it. Don't you just love the web, and the new 6 degrees of separation.

That said (the part about not having to retype it), this gives me the opportunity to make one very important adjustment to the recipe that I only discovered AFTER I had submitted it to Sally. Really instead of cinnamon, it should have cardamom. So there it is, the new secret ingredient.

I was also chatting with Dreena Burton through her blog, author of the most excellent Vive Le Vegan, and Everyday Vegan, and asked her if I can include a modified version of one of her recipies on my blog. She graciously said yes. So next time I am near my cookbook collection I will add it to this post!!

Enjoy.

Ahhhh Sugar

I can’t live with it and I can’t live without it. But really, I can’t live with it. In fact, now when I do have some (yes, I indulge myself on my birthday and for what I call the 10 Days of Sugar from Solstice to New Year’s), I notice it right away. It is like what happens when I drink (not that I do) caffeinated coffee, I get the shakes, I feel nauseous, and I am light headed. That is some kind of poison. It’s bad news. The baddest news. If there was one thing that for me was the most important thing to give up when I got diagnosed, it was sugar.

But give it up I had to. First line of attack. Sugar suppresses the immune system (and there are both scientific and esoteric demonstrations of this from what I have heard). Cancer is a disease that can grow when our immune systems are weak (I have already said this, but I guess it deserves repeating… we all have cancer, but with most people we have the old bouncer cells that get rid of it before it starts causing problems. I didn’t have enough bouncer cells, because my immune system was weak). So obviously, sugar is not my friend. It is not anyone’s friend. Least of all the little kids who crave it most. Imagine what it does to their underdeveloped systems. Yikes.

So here is my history with sugar and with giving it up. When I got diagnosed I quit cold turkey. Why not, I say? My whole life was turned upside down anyway, what is one more thing. Since I was under so much stress and adjusting to so much (pre-surgery was when I changed my entire diet) it was hard to tell what caused what reactions. At this stage I even steered clear of anything that hinted at sweetness, so no maple syrup, no honey. It wasn’t easy (I mean how are you suppose to self medicate with no sugar, I ask you?!?), but nothing was it those days. And I was good for so very long. You can ask just about anyone, I was the rock of discipline, for about a year and a half, I think. Which is when I finally let my feeling come up, now that it was clear that my body was going to make it through. Then I stumbled. When I started working where I am presently I hit a snag. People kept bringing yummy things to work. It is one thing at home, where I can control what I have in the house, but when it was right there, and everyone else indulging. I lost my resolve. Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t wig out and eat every ounce of sugar the world had to offer. I just slipped. A little bit at first. And then it just snow balled (I am sure if you ask my friends and co-workers they will laugh at what I consider snow balled, but still, for me it was big).

Then I would try to stop. Since structures and times work well for me, I would consider quitting at times like New Year’s, but I always found myself away with friends having these great indulgent celebrations. It was very hard to opt out half way through. So I didn’t.

Finally 2 years ago, our New Year’s celebration was relatively in town, which allowed me to actually make the pledge to myself. After the first day, I just took one day at a time. And it worked. That is not to say that I didn’t have my usual withdrawal (you know, the withdrawal I didn’t notice pre-surgery because I was so hopped up on fear and adrenaline). For me, that means on the fourth and fifth day I get edgy, and a bit (just a wee bit) short tempered, and I genuinely thing that I will die if I don’t get to eat some sugar. Classic withdrawal, different drug. If I can live through (and so far I have, as you can well see) to day six, life gets better. Much better. Yes, my mouth waters as I see others eating treats, but I can keep it together. And I was prepared to let myself have sugar substitutes, like the aforementioned honey, and maple syrup, boy did that help. And I have found the stores that sell sugar free treats, and I make my own. So days turned into weeks, weeks into months. The structure was so powerful for me. Knowing that I had not eaten sugar in the year 2005, the more time when by the more I wanted to keep it going. Now, me being me, I could not not indulge myself in all and any way on my birthday, so when it rolled around I made myself a pact. I could eat whatever I wanted, sugar and all, on the day, but only that day. When midnight came, it was pumpkin hour and it was all over. The worst part was when my dear cousins had a gathering a few days after my birthday, and chose to celebrate my birthday then, and give me these luscious looking (words carefully chosen, “looking” not “tasting”) very special chocolate treats. Boy did my saboteur come alive. “Surely, since they were given to you for your birthday, you must be allowed to eat them.” “What is one little chocolate? You had plenty on your birthday and didn’t die.” Oh, it was excruciating!!! But I won out. And offered the chocolates up as a communal consumable at someone else’s birthday.

And then, again, me being me, I wanted to celebrate my success and reward myself for a year clean. And because holidays are such a hard time to be sugar free, and because I now knew that using the First of the Year to clean up worked for me. I decided to give myself the 10 Days of Sugar. Starting on Solstice, Dec 21, I was back to letting myself eat what I wanted. Here is the interesting thing that happened. I did eat lots of sugar, don’t get me wrong, but I was only interested in good quality sugar. It was not sugar for sugar sake; it was about the whole experience. Which felt quite good. It got to the point where I just wanted the rum balls of my cousin’s recipe that I had made for the season. By the time Dec 31 rolled around, my last day, I was back to being used to sugar, my body had adjusted, and so when the clock struck midnight, I did need to detoxify again, but it is worth it. Just so that I didn’t feel deprived. And, so far in 2006 I have been sugar free. At some times of year, like Easter, it is hard, but I pump up the self-care on those dates, and find other ways to treat myself.

At first I did it because I had to, now I do it because I want to, because it is the right choice, because it is good for me. And I am glad that I do.

Let Food Be Your Medicine

And medicine be your food. Wise and excellent words from Hippocrates, the father of modern scientific medicine, and the originator of the oath that all doctors take when they agree to practice medicine. So why don’t doctors prescribe from this place? I, for one don’t know, but wait, I am going off on a tangent. An excellent tangent, one well worth exploring, but not where I want to go today. I don’t even want to take a look at why we, as Ordinary People, don’t work off of this idea, either. I just really want to look at is how we can help ourselves do that very thing.

Because in a world where people are getting it about eating foods that are “anti-aging” (in other words they are chocked full of anti-oxidants and promote prolonged youthful appearance) such as blueberries, almonds and omega 3 oils, we need to be willing to eat foods that are “anti-cancering”, and anti all sorts of other things for that matter, like “anti-heart attaching”, and so on. Yes, it’s true, I am hoping there is a way to get people to eat the foods that will boost their immune system and fight free radicals, which, by the way, in the case of the above mentioned foods, they do both things (anti-cancer and anti-aging), because, frankly, it is sort of the same job! Which I guess makes cancer a sign of aging, hey? Maybe that is the rally cry that will get people to stop consuming crap and start eating to really nourish their bodies.

Here are some tidbits I picked up over the years, things to know about food and health…

Ø You can only get out of your food what is in it.

Ø Food that is organic, fresh and ripe is good for you. Seems obvious, but not so clear when we go to the grocery store and see some (organic) price tags. But consider this, when a piece of fruit is at it’s sweetest, that is when the minerals are the most available, so buying local and what is in season, helps your body, and, gee, your pocketbook at the same time. So let that be what off sets the cost of organic. Besides if enough people were buying organic, then with the increased demand more growers would go into the organic market and the prices would drop. So get out there and get some fresh ripe organic!!!

Ø Oxygen and water are healing agents for our body, so drinking plenty of water, or water drinks that are good for your body (instead of ones that get in the way of your immune systems, like, say alcohol – think of all the pesticide soaked grapes that don’t even get washed before they get stomped and fermented -, or coffee, or soft drinks – what is that anyway, I mean is there such a thing as a hard drink?). Good for the body would include herbal teas (especially some of root teas, like dandelion root, or burdock root), and green teas.

Ø Our lymphatic system moves four times the amount of fluid that our blood does, but there is not pump like the heart to move it, it is exercising our bodies that moves the fluid of this health giving system. That is one of the reasons that exercise is so important. As is deep breathing, which also helps the lymphatic system (and remember, oxygen is a healing agent). I know, I am drifting off of food now, into general health, stay with me!

Ø There are foods whose job it is to boost your immune system. Think about that, when we don’t use them, we’re putting them out of work. And how wasteful to not eat the things that are built for that, designed for that, perfect for that. Some obvious examples: garlic, oregano, turmeric, ginger, shitake mushrooms, seaweeds and the aforementioned good friends of mine: burdock and dandelion root.

Ø There are some foods to steer clear of, and I know you will hate this, but suck it up, if I had to give them up, trust me, so can you. Hydrogenated oils. Coffee. Sugar. White vinegar. White flour. (Details of the whys and of the substitute suggestions can be found in Sally Errey’s Staying Alive, Cookbook for Cancer Free Living.)

Ø Some proteins are more digestible than others. Spiralina (a blue green algae) is very easy to digest and to extract nutrients from. Meat is harder to do that with. The body has to work a lot harder to get the nutrition; it has to burn off energy to get the energy. That is not efficient. If we had a car that did that (like say your car had to be running in order for you to put gas in it), who would buy it? Well, I guess the people that buy those really big cars; you know that ones that cost a mortgage payment to fill them up, but those might not be the people reading this blog.

As I keep writing I can see that this is not just one post (unless it is a pages and pages and pages), so I am going to do a bit of recalling, do a bit of research and bring some tidbits back to the blog about some good “do’s and don’ts” and how to do those and what it is really like. Stay tuned.

Some Room of My Own

Yesterday I was back at the psychologist’s, you know, the one I had to stand up to, and speak my piece with the other week. Things went better. Not perfect, but better. And some of what made it better was that there was room for me, for who I am. And, I am sure it comes as no surprise, that it was me that had to make that room. I had to push back when I felt frustrated. I had to give voice to my laser sharp and focused intuition. I had to say what was true for me. Boy was it hard, from that “looking good”, wanting to “do it right”, “don’t want to hurt her feelings” place. And easy, from that it is clear as writing on the wall what I feel and what it is about. The challenge, the issue was translating those thoughts into words in a way that doesn’t sting the receiver. Over the years I have come to believe both that I am too forceful and that I am not forthright enough. Both are true, because over time I have both tried to hold it back, so as to not hurt people, because I got feedback that I was too much or expressed it too awkwardly; and tried to express it, so as not to hurt me. And because I am so careful about it, and so new at trying to find a way to do it, it is messy. It is imperfect. And I am reactive when the other person gets reactive and doesn’t like the messy way I have done it. Here is one of the beautiful things, she heard me (yes, I know that is her job, but she could have not really heard me, and been all “professional” and slippery and super reasonable, trust me, I have seen that before). She made space for me, heard me, validated me. She honoured my intuition and copped to the fact that she had been running an agenda that she didn’t even know about until I recognized it and called it. Oh the wounds she healed in that moment. That unexpected (probably unexpected on both sides) moment.

Other magic that happened is really seeing the silly, sensitive, wounded, playful, lighthearted part of me. Seeing her as the tiny kitten that she is, and realizing that instead of me leading every charge I declare with her as my steed and staff, she, in fact, should be where she belongs, in my heart. And you will notice that a heart is surrounded by a ribcage, and some muscles, and skin, and clothes and has arms to protect it. Not dangling out there, all on its own. If the parts of me (you know, like firecraker and lemon zest and wicked and red hot) that I have been requiring to get sign off and approval from this meek, mild, and cute little kitten, instead were to form the support and protection for my vulnerable, innocence (which, by the way, is where my intuition resides as well). Well, life might be different. Not sure how to make the transition, but fortunately, I don’t have to do that alone.

The day before yesterday (so that would be Tuesday) I met with a woman I am considering hiring as a coach. One of the things I love about her is that she can hold my bigger vision, and she doesn’t get phased or overwhelmed by it (like, say, I do). As we got to chatting out of my mouth popped some fiery clarity. I deeply, deeply believe in authentic self-expression. I so strongly believe in its power to heal and right the world that I made a very bold statement, I said, “I believe it can cure cancer, I believe it can prevent workplace burnout, I believe it can stop child abuse.” Radical thoughts I know, but surely you can see that grain of truth in there. If I am self-expressed, if I feel fulfilled, if I am in alignment with myself – then almost anything is possible. It is when I cramp myself, and try to change myself, or fix myself, or be different than my true nature, that’s when trouble starts. Trouble with a capital T. And it shows up in a whole bunch of different venues. So having a place where I can express myself, even the messy stuff, having a way to learn to support myself to do that same thing out in the world, this will go a long way in my staying healthy, as well as in my role modeling this approach to holistic health. If only this approach were a little bit easier.

Welcome to My Website

At long last (and I do mean long, but I suspect that last is not so true) ...

My WEBSITE is LIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

http://www.signywilson.com/ (catchy title, hey?)

And it is quite beautiful, thanks to my web mistresses at Raised Eyebrow Web Studios.

So this year, not only did I become a CTI front of the room leader, get trained on 3 of the core courses, as well as lead a number of them, hold down a full time job, travel for 11 weekends of the year, go to Ontario for 2 weeks to visit my family, attend a conference, take the first in the Organizational Systems Coaching courses as well as two courses about international communication and skills (does that include America?), take on a whole bunch of new coaching clients, finish two quilts, get turned down for entry at the US border, get sent to the hospital for something wrong with my heart, become an Icelandic citizen, renegotiate my mortgage, landscape my patio, have an extra set of mammograms done (and all the anxiety that comes with that, and knowing that they think something is wrong), have my car stolen, lose my aunt to cancer, start a blog that I contribute to at least every other day, have surgery to remove calcifications from my breast... I also managed to finish my website. So please, when you have a moment, do go take a look.

After the Fact

Yes. Yes it is true. Mammograms are a wee bit painful. Not so painful as to not do them. Not so painful as, say, preferring to have surgery. But painful enough that you need a treat afterwards. And I have decided that my treat is kitchen gadgets. From here on in, whenever I do a mammogram, I get a kitchen gadget. Now I am not talking about things like the $700 Vita mix or anything, but more like a little $20 or $30 pick me up. Like a lemon squeezer (sorry, couldn’t let that related image pass by unused). Or measuring cups (ahh, yes, the breast references are everywhere, and today, why not?).

So I have past yet another hurdle, even benchmark, since we are fast approaching my 5-year anniversary, on the road to documented good health. So how was it, you might ask? And well you should. Guess who turned up again. My friendly neighbourhood mammogram technician. You remember, the one who desired a greater level of cooperation from me. Well, this time, she was better. Or I was better. Or I was less supped up on Xanax. We’ll never know which one. But there were a few interesting moments that it would be remiss of me not to mention.

She kept getting quite irate that my hair got in the way. I guess hair can skew result, or impair readings or, I don’t know, make her jealous. I can picture shoulders getting in the way, all that bone, and dense matter, but hair? Anyway that was the biggest problem (besides me, in my tense anxiety, gripping and clawing the sides of the machine, which tighten the muscles, which makes the read harder, poor her), nonetheless. So she was often shooing it out of the way, or maybe trying to herd it would be a better analogy, trying to cut it off at the pass and all. Well, I will tell you what. Where I come from, I am grateful for the hair. Grateful it is there. Grateful it is long and flowing. At my one year out mammogram, there was none. At my two year out anniversary, tight curls abounded, but there was no falling in the way of the machinery. So I am happy and proud to sport obnoxious curls, fighting hard for their right to bounce.

The other thing that was interesting to discover, is that last time she did my mammogram, 6 months ago (so not the one that made me cry and fume and generally rant), she went home and cried for 40 minutes. Hmmm. She has a heart after all. Not sure how that translates to her being so very nasty during my fine wire insertion, but as the story goes… when we did that mammogram, something went wrong with the equipment, and so she put me through about 15 slides (read: agonizing breast clamping experiences) to no avail. Each time she thought she had fixed the machine, but each one turned out blank. Wasted effort, wasted pain, thank you very much. In the end I had to come back and go through it all again (not to mention wait about 2 + months for any considered medical opinions). Turns out that was too much for her, but in the cold way she revealed this, it didn’t garner much sympathy from me.

Never mind, I am off to buy kitchen gadgets! And have dinner at Madeleine’s.

The Day Of

Ouch. I always forget how freakin' uptight I get when I have to wait for my mammogram. The day of, not matter what I have on my plate (and I do try to have not too much on my plate for some pretty obvious reasons), I get distracted, anxious, something coming close to "spooked". My nerves get jangly, I get jumpy, and time seem to drag on or race forward depending on the minute. I feel nauseous, probably because my stomach muscles are gripping my internal organs so tightly, and I want to cry.

No wonder some women skip on out their mammogram.

Not sure why I don't. It never really occured to me actually (even though the original 3cm lump could not be detected on a mammogram - granted that was old technology). Except on the day of. Then I wonder what they ways out are. I used to bring a friend, to hold my hand tight and my resolution strong. But lately I have let that go. Slipping back into thinking it is too much to ask. Into thinking it is no big deal to get a mammogram. And, truth be told, often the mammogram is not the hard part. It is the dealing with the health care providers. Trying to convince them to be compassionate, try to convince them to be kind (just like they try to convince me to cooperate, I suppose, bummer to be at this impasse). And needing that friend to prop up my courage. Because it is hard to remember what you really want, and to stand up for yourself when you have left your body.

So, I will just take my extra strength Advil (thank you Sophie), and screw my courage to the sticking place (to quote the bard, but for much less diabolical purposes), and step boldly out into the afternoon.