Tuesday, December 30, 2008

I am anonymous

After the kids are in bed, I blog.

I checked tonight and I have logged over 1000 hours writing stories or drafts or trying to make this story of my life a bit more 'prettier.'

No one in my home has read my blog or even knows of its existence. I write at night with a candle burning in the background and I listen to some 'cafe jazz' and I just write whatever I'm thinking.

I go to work during the day and no one ever sees my scribbling down notes or seeing something that reminds me to write about that tonight or maybe tomorrow night.

I see things now everyday that I want to tell and I want to talk about. I want to feel so great inside at the end of the day, that I feel peace then and a sense of accomplishment.

Thus, the story behind this blog.

It started out as a 'secret' of mine and slowly turned into something I'd never imagined.

I can sit late at night and I can say 'whatever' I like and feel no fear of anyone refuting what I say. My grammar does not ever get questioned and I can end a story at any time that I wish.

The 2 hours a day I spend writing has proved to be one of the 'best' things that I could have ever done.

Very seldom we get the opportunity to sit back and really 'see' what we did and thought 3 years ago in time.

It frees your soul and lifts your spirits and you think a bit more about things that you should have thought about a long time ago but sadly didn't.

It gives you a chance to go back in time and try and fix the wrongs and explain the maybes and embrace the positives.

I often wonder why I don't share my blogging world with the people that are closest to me? I am not shy nor do I shy away from my beliefs or things that I stand behind 100%.

I am 'straight as an arrow' and if I think the sky is blue, the sky is blue to me. And yet, I've gone through some things that I really don't want to share with a whole bunch of people although I do here.

The idea of my cancer coming back scares me to my core. I am strong but I live in fear for at least a few minutes each day. I think its pretty normal to feel that way and if not, I'm screwed....:) hehehe

I will admit that I still wake up in sweats sometimes and I do admit to getting down sometimes when I find out another one of 'us' died today and I wonder why I didn't?

The cycle will never end and thus why I write.

I've read so, so many blogs about people with cancer dying that I wanted to do one about someone actually 'living'.

We all hear about the horrors of cancer and we forget about the greatness of having cancer.

I wouldn't wish it upon anyone that I know but I cannot say really that its been such a bad thing for 'me'.

My heart is way bigger and I think that sometimes I glow with a calm and a bit of maybe, peace that I didn't have before.

I will fight it again if the beast comes back, believe you me.

But for now, I will wait and I will be happy and I will write and others can see that yup, there are survivors and sometimes they are anonymous.

Monday, December 29, 2008

The lemonade stand

2009 is almost upon us and I've finally decided what my new year's resolution is going to be.

My goal is to create a virtual 'lemonade stand' to show others that greatness can come from something so normally bitter. I want them to see.

I am going to respond to the lonesome soul on Craigslist who posts wanting a new friend as he has no one. I am going to extend my olive branch and let him see that there is still good in the world if you only look for it.

I am going to show my kids that adversity does breed character. I will show my kids that its about 'what you give' and not 'what you get.' There is oh, such a difference.

I want my dear sweet boyfriend to see that love is something to be worked on and nurtured and I want to show him that its really magical and full of hugs and kisses and understanding and love.

I want him to put the ring that we picked on my finger with love and I want him to see the love growing from within both of us. I want him to see the gentle soul that I have within that is yearning to come out and feel the sunshine and laugh in the rain and jump in the puddles.

I am going to go to the gym and show myself that bodies can be fixed after they have been broken and they can be better than before. So much better than before.

I am going to pay for the guy's coffee in the drive-thru line up after me. He will never see me or thank me but he will always remember the 2.00 contribution that I spent making MY day and not his. I will do this every-time I want a java fix and a 'me' fix.

I am going to learn how to use my new camera to forever capture what is dear to my heart to show my kids what I am about. I want them to understand me and love me and appreciate all that I value that doesn't have a dollar figure attached to it. I want them to have my memories so they too can see what I see is important.

I want to wake up each morning and do something good for someone else and I want to re-live it again before I go to bed. I want to have that feeling of knowing I did something good today. I want it EVERY day.

I want to take every little bit of knowledge that I've learned about others and about me and I want to embrace that and wrap it around dejected souls that need a lift-up to become better and understand the fragility of life.

I want to help others going through treatment that can't see the end of the road. I want to share with them the meaning of 'hope' and 'perseverance'. Its not just about today. Today is almost over. I want to show them how to embrace tomorrow as tomorrow is what we all have to strive to attain.

I want to feel puppy dog kisses and puppy dog breath from a whole bunch of dogs that are happy to be inside, safe and sound in a caring and nurturing home. I want them to see that not everyone beats them or keeps them outside. I want to see the wagging of tails and the bouncing of bodies and I want to feel them curling up behind my legs when I sleep.

I want to learn all I can about dealing with cancer. If I do this, I can help others going through what I did a few short years ago. If I have lived through it, surely I can help others going through it.

I want to show everyone that life is not about money nor is it about the car that you drive or the clothes that you wear. No one will remember that at the end of the day.

Life is really all about setting up your own virtual 'lemonade stand' and handing it out to everyone you meet.

I embrace my task at hand and I will wear my camo and my lipstick and I will try to hand out 'lemonade' to everyone that I meet.

Life is really a bunch of lemons. The trick to surviving life is knowing that what you see in your hands as lemons might not be really lemons, after all. :)

Cheers and a good-bye to 2008.

"Head down, tail up and get 'er done". (another mantra of mine:)

Saturday, December 27, 2008

On the 30th day of the 12th month, I go home.

On the 30th day of the 12th month of each year, I go back to the cancer clinic that saved my life. The day has no significance for me really. Its just another day.

The choice of gear for my 'day' is a pair of camo pants that I have worn to every one of my chemo and radiation treatments in my own personal dance with cancer. Call it my kevlar.

I will get in my car and i'll do the drive-thru of Tim Hortons and i'll order 24 doughnuts (no cake ones please) and I'll secure them in the passenger seat till I get to the parking lot of the clinic.

I'll then tenderly support them till I get in the building and then I'll firstly, head to the chemo wing.

I'll check in the with reception but they are expecting me as they've done so for the last 3 years.

The receptionist with smile at me and take one pack of doughnuts and hide them under her desk like a prize cause she knows how many smiles hide in that plain brown cardboard box.

I walk right into the '411 mess hall' of people doing chemo. People like you and I.

I sit with them offering my fare and I try and show them that yup, you'll get through it. I did. I give them a doughnut full of chocolate and hope that they too can have a future.

I then head to to the radiation wing with the second box of comfort and I realize that I get so much out of putting 8 bucks in.

Sometimes its just as simple as a donut and a smile and good dose on 'been there, done that."

We all walk alone with cancer. We are all on a personal journey with learning abour our disease and how we choose to see and deal with it.

We all take our own path and I've decided that mine will be one full of warmth and puppy dog kisses and camo pants and doughnuts and smiles.

On the 30th, I go home and its going to feel so good to know that it was never really bad in the first place. I just thought it was.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Thank you "ME"

I installed google analytics to keep track of my blog and let me see if what I would write actually made a difference in someone's life.

I am amazed that I have reached out to so many people in my dance with cancer.

I looked back this last week at what I had written years ago when my project started and I sit here in awe.

I have readers from Australia and Russia and the middle east and all over, and I have made contact with 311 people out of the 3140 who were diagnosed with my cancer 2 short years ago.

I started this blog to alleviate my own demons and it turned into something which I never imagined.

I never imagined it to be so positive until I looked back and gave it the reflection it deserved.

It evolved into something that I never expected it to become and it is because of this, that I need to thank everyone who helped or helps me along my road of recovery from the beast called cancer.

I could never say 'thank you' enough for what each and everyone of you have done for me. Words seem inadequate in what I have been given.

Nameless faces have reached out to me when I needed it and I have returned the favor as many times as I could.

Cancer survivors have so many stories to tell you.

They have gone up to the cliff and looked over the edge and they've come back again with stories to tell if you'd only listen to the words and read the lines between.

We skip through the puddles with glee and abandon now. We have to. We might not have tomorrow but we sure have today.

Hugs more freely given and smiles more quickly felt.

My blog has opened a venue for frightened souls to seek comfort and send a cry for help to someone else in need.

What started out as something to help me turns innocently into something to help others and that is really what it is all about.

A time will come when I will die and no longer be around to tell my story.

I hope though from the bottom of my heart, that when my kids get old enough to read about my legacy and what I've always wanted for them to become and what I hoped them to achieve, that they look back at what I've written and they smile and they laugh and they think that yup, cancer freed me to become everything that they should be as well. (without the cancer)

Thank you everyone for alleviating my fears and giving me the power to want to do good by everyone else.

Under the mask

Sometimes, I get up in the morning stiff in my joints. Its not from the exercise or the chasing of kids.

Pelvic radiation makes my hips so sore sometimes that they ache without comfort ever coming for days.

I no longer get periods. I believe it was after 7 doses of radiation lasting less than 15 seconds to forever take away my monthly bleeding and my ability to conceive.

It all went so fast in the blink of any eye.

I cannot have intercourse without lubrication. Radiation took care of that. I no longer produce secretions as my glands are all fried.

I must be careful slipping on ice and breaking a hip as I now am 400% more likely to fracture my hips and thus I must be careful.

Radiation increase my chances of getting another cancer in my lifetime by a whole bunch of numbers. Ironic it is that the treatment to cure me also might kill me in the end.

My curly hair went curlier from the chemo drugs that I took. It could have gone one of two way. Lose it or it changes. Thankfully, it was the latter.

I have 4 little 'green' dots on my body to mark perfect center for the radiation beams. I hide them from others as it makes me feel marked.

I shy away from speaking about it as most think you're dying.

I'm not dying. I'm living my life to the fullest. Whatever that may be.

I quit going to meetings full of dread and bad endings and started looking for others who also wanted to live.

I reached out to others with masks much like my own. Others who have gone down a road similar to mine.

We walk as heroes and yet we aren't heroes in the sense of the word.

We are all just masked people who chose to live and are given a second chance at living.

We can't talk to others in groups cause they are filled with the dying looking for help at the end.

We are cured of our cancers and we help others who are not beating the great fight with the beast and then we are sad.

We think of the ending and yet we haven't heard yet that 'it' has come back.

We live in fear of the unknown and we second-guess everything.

We also need healing from the mark cancer left.

One cannot see but it is there and I feel it.

It is under my mask which I present to the world.

I keep the after-affects close to my heart as they always remind me that I survived this disease for another day.

The symptoms tell me that I did it, I lived it and I lived through it and strangely they provide comfort as I walk with my kids today and hopefully, for tomorrow.

Nothing is free and a price is always to be paid and yet, I still hide under my mask.

Does Santa Claus exist?

I remember as a child getting so excited about the magical time of Christmas and hearing stories about the season full of gifts and good memories.

Children learn about Santa and the season of giving and yet somewhere along the way, they grow up and they forget.

They forget that Santa watches them and makes them be good.

They forget how excited they became and how hopeful they were back then.

They stopped believing in the spirit of Christmas and they became less naive about the world and the goodness in it. Instead they became narrow-minded, less forgiving and the sky no longer blue.

All this because they stopped to believe.

They become adults and think Christmas as a time to part with money and then tick off the 'list' they have to get done in a flurry 'cause there is never enough time. Is there ever enough time?

Santa does exist though in the minds of us all and especially our hearts.

I tell my son this each night at this time of the year and this time cause he's asking.

"Is Santa real?"

"You bet darling.", I answer believing it to the bottom of my heart. "He really does exist."

I've seen frail, old men getting chemo so that they can buy just enough time to again see the light in the eyes of a grand-child. All they want is more time. They believe in Santa. They have to believe in Santa.

I too believed in Santa enough to finish up my chemo and be there for my kids. I never would have done it if it wasn't for Santa.

We see more compassion in others around Christmas and we see hope.

The stories of the families getting help when they need it and the belief we can provide in the spirit of the season.

How can anyone say that he doesn't exist?

Our earliest memories of Santa lay the ground-work for a belief in something you will never see nor ever touch. He magically comes at night and we believe the evidence at foot.

Faith arises by believing in something one cannot see.

So does hope.

"Yes, my little son. There does exist a man named Santa and he's coming very soon and he loves you immensely".

"He will bring you many gifts" and you'll grow up having faith and hope and really that is all I ever wanted for you anyways.

Thanks Santa

Monday, December 22, 2008

Dancing with time.

The most profound experience with having had cancer is knowing that you are on borrowed time.

We all have to die at some point or another but most of us only dream of going quickly and not having to endure pain. We cannot fathom death peeking over the horizon gently calling our name.

I consider my diagnosis so special to me in so many ways.

I go to sleep at night hoping that I did all that I could today. Did I kiss my kids? Did I kiss my hubby? Did I do everything I could to make them see how much I genuinely love them, from the bottom of my soul?

In so many ways, we dance with cancer, very intimately and loving.

We endure toxic drugs to pay for the price of seeing our kids grow up.

We endure radiation doses high enough to cause 3rd degree burns and effects lasting decades from treatments.

The survivor does this to get another day, another year or even another lifetime to buy some time to dance some more. We all love to dance.

Our world is so fixated on money and labels and making sure that 'we' are looked after that we forget sometimes about others.

The human hearts grows by giving to others and it flourished under ideal conditions of compassion and optimism and looking at the glass as half full and not empty.

Life needs to be embraced each day to the fullest. Do what makes you feel good. Give someone a coffee. Make someone smile.

If you make someone smile, I can guarantee that you will smile as well.

My mantra is now, "If it matters a year from now, worry about it. " Most of the stuff that clogs our minds isn't gonna matter one bit a year from now.

Your clean kitchen tonight isn't gonna matter next week nor is the load of laundry sitting on the washer.

A hug to your baby will matter though. Even a hug with a kiss. Read the book you always wanted but never claimed the time. Try the blond in your hair that you never had the guts to try. JUST DO IT.

We sometimes forget that life is incredibly short and most times, you don't get the 2nd chance like you do being diagnosed with cancer.

I will never take my life for granted again. It means way too much to me to be able to dance. I need to dance for quite awhile still in fact.

We forget sometimes that life is really all just a glorious dance.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Second chances


Growing up, I brought every stray dog home that I found in the streets on my way home from school.

I always made sure I found them their homes and it brought peace to my soul and a contentment in my heart to do right by all animals big and small.

People who know me would describe be as an animal 'freak.'

A few years ago, I decided to make a difference in the lives of our furry friends and I started doing foster and rescue work for various local agencies.

A dog rescued from a drug-house who found his way into mine attacked me with such ferocity that I realized I couldn't expose my son to the potentials of my hobby and I let my hobby go for awhile.

About a month ago, I decided that I still could make a difference and I could pick and choose my battles.

I have taken on the task of finding homes for dogs no longer wanted by their owners on CraigsList.

My in box gets filled with people looking to re home their dogs and people looking to find a forever pet to bring into their lives and their homes and just love it.

To date, I have re homed 89 dogs and I'm strangely proud of that fact. I am glad that my kids can see what a wonderful gift it is to help give an animal peace and protection.

These 'strangers' come into my home and my heart and the lives of my family and its a transition of sorts for them.

They sleep on blankets in the kitchen with other pets and they start to come alive again and find hope where maybe they didn't see it before in their past.

I drove 2 hours to pick up Rambo, a crazy Lhasa Apso who tonight is frolicking in the snow with his new 61 year old owner. He will never be alone.

Maggie found a new life at a dog-groomer's house and the last picture I received was of her being hugged in front of a fireplace by a 7 year old girl.

Tonight, my house is empty of hard-luck stories. I have solved them all for today.

Tomorrow might find me again trudging through snow, to bring another dog home needing a new story to tell only this time, a great story with a happy ending. The best of stories to tell.

We all should have a cause of our own. A cause that makes us sleep more sound at night.

A cause which causes our chests to expand when we speak of it. A glorious cause where a difference can be made.

I will sleep great tonight knowing that I did a good thing today. I made a difference in the life of an animal.

He cannot say thank you. He will never write me a note nor will he tell friends of my act.

I will however, receive pictures of happiness from my new friends whose lives I've made a difference in and that strangely, is more than enough thanks.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

New beginnings

I have not posted to this blog for 6 months until yesterday.

I have read past entries from being diagnosed 2 years ago with cancer to present day.

The thought crossed my mind to close my cancer blog and start something new and something perhaps a bit more positive.

I realized a few days ago that this is my life and I don't want to mask it and deny what it really was at the end of the day.

The read is a good one and its also an honest one. It calls cancer for what it is and I'm actually very happy to have written what I did, when I did. It somehow gave me closure on a few issues.

Some of you know me although most of you do not.

Most of you have never met me nor broken bread with me over a great bottle of a good red.

You would pass me by on the streets without a second glance of a perhaps recognition.

We are silent partners for the most part although I've helped you out and you've helped me as well.

I have changed the background of my blog to plain, simple white.

I don't need to hide behind the scariness of 'black' any longer and I feel now that the smiley face of a different color is a bit more appropriate than the endless black hole I had as a 'mask' for the real me before.

For any of you wondering about my current 'animal' thing, there is an update there as well which should be told and now seems like as good time as any.

I still have 4 dogs as well as a few cats. We have birds in the kitchen which is now also shared by the resident ' pot belly ' pig named Pinky who also has a blankie and a barbie purse.

I took this year off of coaching soccer as I just wanted to spend some time with my family.

I'm still working full-time in finance and rescuing unwanted dogs as a hobby after hours.

This blog will be getting an overhaul and I think its about time to start anew.

I'm hoping 'cancer squared 2' is as successful as the first one was.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine


Happy birthday Dane !!!

Today you are 3 years old and you are turning into such a great little man. I am so, so proud of you.

You are becoming such a great human being. You are turning into something that I have been molding in my mind and caressing in my heart.

The love of animals is strong in you, young man and although you are a bit rough sometimes with them, I feel in my very soul that you too will grow up understanding that you have to look after everyone, including animals in need.

I remember you being born 2 hours after I coached a soccer game in the snow.

I remember you coming into this world with 'Santa Claus is coming to town' quietly being piped into the surgery room where I had you via c-section.

I remember Dr. Still being dressed in scrubs with little reindeer all over them and I was so, so scared to have you on my own. I was so scared I was crying.

I sucked it up though knowing that I was strong enough to do it alone after your dad passed away.

I remember being so scared that you had to stay in the nursery overnight cause you were so tiny but you wanted to come out of your cocoon just a bit 'early' and start getting to know me and your big sister.

The first time that I held you in my arms was almost magical.

You looked at me with such an intensity in your eyes that I knew instantly we would all be ok.

I remember coming home and grabbing you and hugging you on the couch after I was first diagnosed with cancer.

I fed you and held back tears wondering if I was going to see you grow up.

It was then that I realized that I loved you to the absolute bottom of my soul and I was going to do whatever I need to do, to be there for you.

At 6 months old, you sat in the bath-tub with me for hours at a time. You loved splashing around and I need to alleviate my 3rd degree burns from having radiation.

It was a 'win-win' situation. Your smile made me go out to the store when I felt like 'shit' to get you a bumble-bee costume so you could go out trick-or-treating with your big sister.

You won all of the hearts of the nurses and doctors at the cancer clinic and they gave you a gold star too when I was all done with my treatment.

You empower me to become a better person and for that I am grateful.

You have shown me the wonderful mind of a child and the most endearing of hearts. You have a wonderful soul and a beautiful love of all things alive.

I have hopes for you and I have dreams for you because I love you. It is as simple as that.

It amazes me how quickly 3 years has gone by. It seems just like it happened a moment ago and all time stands still.

You have taken up such a large chunk of my heart without even asking for it. It just was what it was.

I would like to make just one wish for you on your 3rd birthday and I hope it comes true.

My wish has nothing to do with the amount of money you will make later in life nor does it have to do with the car you drive nor the house you live in.

My wish for you is that you continue to be 'just who you are' because this is what is important at the end of the day.

You lay at my feet right now wrapped in your 'blankie' while I'm doing the blogging thing and I'll finish up and gently carry you to bed and tomorrow we'll wake up and maybe find a hill and go and make some snow angels.

Happy Birthday Sweetie ..

Love Mom

The forgotten

Drug companies are on a quest to find better drugs to cure cancer in people and alleviate the pain in people who are dying from it.

Research oncologists are looking for new ways to increase the chance of surviving cancer and creating new 'cutting edge' ways to treat people with cancer.

The news is encouraging.

Cancer survival rates are ever increasing and slowly but surely, we are making strides in ridding the world of this disease.

Cancer strikes the young and the old. It does not discriminate if you are male or female. Nor does it care how much money you make or how much family you have.

I've been in remission now for over 2 years and while I feel that the scientific advances made in the cure for cancer are impressive, there are sacrifices being made in the quest for a world without cancer.

One of those sacrifices is people like me who are 'survivors'.

Maybe its just me, but I find that once I received 3 clean Ct scans, I was hustled out the door and told to give 'them a call' if I was symptomatic.

I am not the only one who made it past the finish line and I'm surely not going to be the last.

I am another statistic in the 'seers' database where all cancer treatments are kept track of.

My name is never recorded but I know that I am somewhere in the 3144 people who were diagnosed 2 years ago with my type of cancer and now I am in remission and considered cured.

Cured is defined as having no 'evidence of disease.'

I roam the earth with others deemed 'cured' and we aimlessly wander around with no guide to show us the way or help in the form of actually living with cancer instead of dying from it.

I get up in the morning and go about my day and I wait in silence.

The phone does not ring from my oncologist wondering how I'm doing.

I do not hear from the social workers who were so concerned about my mental state 2 short years ago.

Everyone one assumes that being deemed 'cured' alleviates all of my concerns and I sometimes feel guilty for occasionally feeling doubt that I am really cured.

Late at night, I peruse 'cancer' forums and I always click on the posts referring to people who are dying.

I look for signs in their words that will give me a clue if my cancer is now back as well.

Night does not come easy to me sometimes. I awake in a sweat on occasion having woken from a nightmare where I'm told that the beast has come back.

In an ideal world, there would be 'after cancer' support to the millions of people each year who don't get a death sentence when they hear that they have the dreaded 'c' word.

There would be a place where we can go to get help or encouragement or just sit with others who are afflicted by having survived cancer.

The world needs to know that once you survive it, you are never the same.

The world needs to know that getting a second chance also comes with the price of knowing what you really do have to lose.

I get emails from people all over the world reaching out to me for comfort because I've been where they are right now.

There are multiple sites online where you can get scientific data relating to our disease.

We can look at statistics and new treatments emerging that might help us if we ever get our cancers back.

Sadly, there is very little in the way of support and treatment for the 'mind' of a cancer survivor.

We live with guilt not knowing why we lived and a little boy of 4 did not.

We live with the sound of a clock ticking in the back of our minds signaling the end where most would never hear the clock ticking at all.

We deal with the unknown of symptoms from the very treatments themselves who saved our lives.

Every cancer is different and every treatment is different.

My pelvic radiation increases my chance of a hip fracture by 400%. I had to read this. I was not told this.

The whole world is based on what happens 'now' instead of what might happen 10 years from now.

There is less data collected on the after-effects on having been treated by IMRT radiation than what happens during getting IMRT radiation.

We, as survivors are left to roam the world as 'cured' cancer victims.

We are not marked in scarlet letters. We do not glow from the radiation we received. You could walk down the street and not know when you passed me by, that I had cancer.

Its as if it didn't exist at all and I wander in a sort of 'oz' type life.

Its as if its put up on a shelf in a plain, brown papered box and its forgotten.

I am forgotten.

We never speak of the horrors of our 3rd degree burns and we never say how hard it was to get up on the table to have more of it every day so we could live.

We wake in the morning and get ready for work while our hips ache from the effects of having radiated hips.

We go to bed early some nights in a sweat of unknown origin that we know is from chemo that took place almost long enough ago to forget it ever happened.

We walk the earth as heros for having survived and yet sometimes late at night, we cry in silence.

We cry for the death of an innocence that we lost long ago in happier times.

We cry for change. We should not wander alone.

No one should never feel alone and yet we do.

The world needs to hear the stories of survivors. It needs to hear the ups and the downs.

We cannot continue to sweep it under the carpet because we are too scared to hear that there are indeed prices to pay to get a second chance at life.

There is always a price to pay for everything we do.

The big drug companies have to realize that yup, you cured me but unfortunately, I have issues that I live with everyday because I survived cancer.

The oncologists have to hear that although I no longer have cancer on a CT scan, I will always have cancer in my mind.

The end of treatment for cancer and being declared cancer-free is a reason for celebration.

Unfortunately, after the cake is all gone and the hugs have been given and you go on your way home after relishing in your friend's 2nd chance at life, please remember that although the cancer is gone, the cancer survivor is not.

They still are forgotten.

Roger that...................

I have a friend named Roger who is pictured here holding my son when he was very small.

The picture always brought a tear to my eye as one can see how much he loved Dane and the light shining in through the window of the shot always made me look at this picture in almost 'awe'. I found it so breathtakingly beautiful.

Roger has been and always will be one of the 'best' of friends that anyone could ask for.

He held my hand after Dane was born and told me that I would find someone else to replace my deceased fiance.

He held my hand when I was first diagnosed with cancer and he dutifully went with me to get chemotherapy although he hated hospitals.

He helped me take my kids out 'trick-or-treating' one rainy, cold night as I had 3-rd degree burns from the radiation but didn't want to let my kids down.

Roger held my kids in his arms all of the time and Dane thought him as more of an uncle than just a friend of mine.

We don't choose our friends based on the money they have nor the age that they are.

We don't choose our friends on the merits of what others think as others thought Roger as a recluse who never talked or shared his feelings.

I however, would sit down with Roger for hours talking about absolutely nothing and enjoying his mere presence in my life and the lives of my kids.

He was always invited to the kids' birthdays and Christmas and we always made sure that Roger felt like he had a family in us all.

We loved him and we helped him out whenever we could.

Roger had lots of family around but chose to have nothing to do with them. I never questioned his reasoning for it wasn't my place I didn't think.

A few weeks ago, Roger called me asking to borrow my car as his was broken down.

I didn't hesitate for a second before handing him over the keys for my firebird I'd lovingly tended for over 20 years.

The firebird was my baby. It was the first car I ever bought at 16 and it was going to be gifted to Dane when he reached of age.

I answered the phone on a rainy Saturday to hear the police telling me that my best buddy, Roger had chosen to take my car and drive off of the end of a wharf with it into the freezing cold of the Fraser River.

He could not swim.

Witnesses said that the car floated on the surface for awhile with the driver's side window down.

People yelled at him to get out of the car and he neither looked nor attempted to get out of the car where he would take his last breath.

The car sank slowly under the water and he was found 2 hours later with his seatbelt still on.

He had no intentions of getting out.

The car was found in 40 feet of water and he took his last breath in the driver's seat.

What would possess a man to take his life in his late 40's?

What would possess a man to take his life who promised to come to my home for Christmas?

Sometimes, things happen to us that are completely devastating like cancer.

Sometimes, our friends have things happen to them that we hardly even notice.

He had no problems that I could see. He never mentioned anything to me.

How could I not see that he was hurting inside? How could I not see that he felt like he was at the end of his rope and wanted to end his life?

What tragedies make us feel that there is no light at the end of the tunnel?

I've said 'good-bye' to my friend now.

I will not get my car back. I cannot imagine driving in a car knowing that my friend took his last breathe in the seat I would be sitting in.

I took all the pictures that I had of Roger in happier times and I gave them to his family who had no seen him in 10 years.

I spoke to the police at length about this man with the soul of a 'angel' who took care of me and my kids.

Lastly, I had a brief conversation with God and asked from the bottom of my soul to please, please watch over him till I could get there and give him a big hug and tell him that he was going to be ok.

He did it to me when I was first diagnosed and the least I can do is return the favor.

Rest in peace, Roger.

You are more loved than you will ever know.

Love,

Beady, Brianne and the little-man "Dane".


Friday, December 19, 2008

2 years ago today.


Two years ago today I finished treatment for cancer.

Two years ago today I also celebrated my son's first birthday.

Today, I am 2 years out of treatment and my son is running around like a typical 3 year old boy excitedly waiting for presents and Santa.

Life stops for no one. There are no breaks along the way and the train of life keeps going whether we continue to sit on the train or get off at some stop.

2 years is all it took to take me from viewing cancer as a gift I didn't need to a gift I'm so happy to have received.

Having been gifted with cancer enables me to sit up late at night typing comfort to someone I've never met who is currently going through her own fight with cancer.

Her gift of cancer makes her reach out to people without faces. It makes her reach out to someone of a different culture to find hope in a situation she hasn't found hope in thus far.

The fear of her gift gives her many sleepless nights. It gives her twists in her stomach which medicine cannot cure.

Fear of the unknown is a brutal feeling to have in the pit of your gut. It does not go away nor does it let up for even minutes at a time. It consumes you while you sleep and it sits deep in your brain surfacing as nightmares when you try and sleep.

I have seen people die from cancer. I have also seen people living with having had cancer.

The end of treatment does not bring an end to the gift we have received.

No, it is only the beginning.

Survivors sometimes do not realize the strength and courage that they have to get up in the morning and take the 'cancer' and just put it on your back like a baby in a papoose.

In the blink of an eye and with the stealth of a cat, the cancer we carried around starts to empower us and make us become better people.

We laugh more at life's endearing moments.

We cry more at life's tragedies and we hug more the people who carried us when we couldn't do it ourselves.

We band together and reach out to those still carrying the baby around that cannot see for themselves yet what a great gift they have received, if they only look below the surface.

I'd often wondered shortly after diagnosis what I did to deserve cancer. What did I do in my life to have to endure countless chemo and radiation sessions? Who did I wrong to get it given back to me 10 fold?

I remember feeling like I was on a ship circling and circling around a hurricane slowly sinking deeper and deeper in the sea.

Today, I cannot feel more blessed for having survivied cancer.

I feel humbled with the amount of people coming to search ME out to give them answers.

I feel humbled by people without faces looking for a virual shoulder to cry on cause they haven't ridden the cancer train long enough yet to see it for what it really is.

Cancer is a gift that shows us there is such love and compassion in people.

It shows us how precious life really is.

I sit now ready for Santa to come to my home and my heart and bless me and my family at this wonderful time of year.

I will take my son and go visit the snow and we'll build snow-angels and I'll hug him so tightly that he'll almost stop breathing.

I will then come home and have a scrumptuous dinner with family and friends, some of whom I will be meeting for the first time at Christmas after helping them via email with their own cancer struggles.

Santa will be getting cookies and milk tenderly placed on a plate and I'll also give him a message saying 'Thanks' for giving me the gift of cancer 2 short years ago.

So far, its the best present I think I've ever received.