To operate or not to operate (Part 1 of 3)

The details behind my random last minute surgery a couple weeks ago are something I didn’t share very openly with people. Those who were closest to me knew what was going on, but other then that I didn’t share much.

 

This might seem like it’s not a big deal to some people – who in their right mind shares everything with everyone?! Well, me. I have been sharing all sorts of details with anyone who wanted to know ever since this whole journey began!

 

I’m mostly referring to social media. I’m also referring to oversharing with friends, oversharing with clients and always being the go-to person if anyone else had questions or needed guidance if they were about to go through a similar experience.

 

It’s one of my things, it’s what I do.

 

This was something I couldn’t share openly, for a couple of reasons. First, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that would likely not end up being a big deal. Second, I was starting to get tired of narrating my whole life on social media for everyone to read. I appreciate all of the support that comes from this sharing, but if I was getting kind of tired of it, then that probably meant lots of other people were getting tired of it too. Or at least that was the story I was beginning to build up in my head.

 

I know – who cares what other people think. It is so easy to say that, BUT I do care. I feel like am not supposed to admit that, but I do. So every once in a while it takes a little extra work, a little extra courage and a little extra wine to get back to what I know deep down is helping, and that is sharing to help others.

 

So here is more sharing.

 

HEADACHES. Let’s talk about being in my head about things – quite literally and figuratively. I started experiencing headaches before chemo was over, but along with all the other effects that come with it I brushed it off as part of the process, and knew it was temporary and would be over soon.

 

BLURRED VISION. I have glasses now. And it wasn’t until my second last chemo treatment that I realized my vision was no longer sharp, in fact there were times where I straight up could not see properly. It was consistently inconsistent – sometimes it was perfectly fine, and other times it was sketchy when I was driving… Again, it must have been chemo, right? Sure.

 

TINGLING. I was dealing with pins and needles, or numbness in my arms, legs, hands and feet – but mostly on one side of my body. This wasn’t as severe or noticeable, but it was there, and became more noticeable as time went on.

 

NAUSEA. I didn’t feel very well yet, but maybe it was the radiation… Oh wait, nope, it’s not the radiation according to my oncologist… so what is it? Why? It made no sense, except OBVIOUSLY it was the chemo still… sure, again.

 

But chemo had been over for a while now, and the symptoms weren’t going away. I finally remembered to mention it to my doctor and she immediately took it very seriously. In fact she was grilling me on my symptoms, which took me by surprise. She booked an MRI for my brain, and that was that.

 

But then I got a call explaining that they couldn’t give me an MRI because the expander (temporary implant) in my chest had metal in it, which made it impossible. My doctor was very frustrated by this, and then kindly began to go over her thinking process with me since I was still a little in the dark about what was really going on.

 

“Typically, for some reason that we don’t know yet, women with HER2 positive disease tend to experience metastasis to their brains – if it spreads.” Or something like that, I can’t trust my memory to the exact detail these days…

 

Oh.

 

Well fuck.

 

I see where this is going now. But I won’t think it, because no.

 

Her worry level seemed relatively low, but her desire to miss nothing and be on the safe side was the reason why I always felt like I was in such good hands. Plus my typical ‘don’t worry until you need to worry’ demeanour was kicking in, kind of like it did last year… you know, when they were testing a lump I found in my breast.

 

Yeah. You caught that too?

 

My innocence has been kind of ripped away from me on that one.

 

“When are you getting the expander out?” she asked. “Next year, in forever… like not anytime soon. Definitely not soon enough.” I explained. So now what.

 

I was booked for a CT scan, a similar but less detailed diagnostic tool to see if there was anything to worry about – and it came up clear. This was obviously a relief, but my doctor didn’t seem satisfied.

 

We decided I’d be on top of watching my symptoms, really focusing on the details of the headaches (which were every day, all day….) to determine if they were getting better. If they got better then it wasn’t cancer.

 

Oops, I slipped there and typed it out loud. Moving on.

Radiation Nation PT 3

The peak of the effects didn’t hit until after my last radiation treatment. It was weird, because on the one hand, I was very happy that it was over – but it was actually most definitely not over at all.

 

My skin was brutal. It felt like it was melting off me, and the tissue under it was getting extremely tight and ached. My temporary implant was popping out more then ever and it started to look even weirder then it did before!

 

   

 

My skin began to ‘open’, looked incredibly raw, and was extremely painful. Every movement I made hurt, sleeping on it was impossible and bathing became a whole production. It hurt when I sweat – which was nice because you know, SUMMER. It also hurt when my clothing brushed against it and I made every effort I could not to let my arm hang down casually because it was so uncomfortable.

 

Uncomfortable is putting it nicely.

 

     

 

It seems crazy, but I understand now why some people think radiation is worse than chemo. For two weeks I felt it, and for other people it is even worse – especially depending on the part of their body that is being radiated. I know people who missed more work with radiation then chemo, and the truth is I probably didn’t need to take on bootcamp (even just once a week!) but I had no clue it would get as hard as it did.

 

But, guess what.

 

My skin healed.

 

In fact, I still can’t believe how well it healed. It was crazy to see my skin go right back to normal, as if nothing happened. Howwwwwwwwwww.

 

I have heard all kinds of horror stories about how it’ll never be the same again, or how years later you can still feel it and see it. But not me. Like not one bit.  Okay, maybe just a little bit. BUT I feel incredibly lucky that my skin regenerated so well, and that it’s something I don’t have to see on a daily basis.

 

My temporary implant was incredibly tight, and had shifted upwards on my body… but that would be taken care of soon too -> that’s a story for a different blog post!

 

Moving forward, my beauty regimen has been taken up a notch. Who am I kidding, it’s been taken up about 100 notches! I never did much for my skin up until this point, as much as I’d hate to admit that. I didn’t take it seriously. From now on I’ll be all about the moisturizer… all over… all day… all the time…

 

Now please excuse me, I need to go moisturize.

Radiation wasn’t so rad PT 2

It felt like I was always at the Cancer Centre… because I was. I was there every day for radiation, once a week I met with my radiation oncologist to discuss how it was going and to treat any of the effects, I still had Herceptin every 3 weeks, had to do regular diagnostic testing, and was still dealing with the aftermath of my chemotherapy. Basically, life was super fun!

 

For the first few weeks, I barely felt any effects of the radiation. Yes, my skin started to look more and more red as time went on, as if I was getting a bad sunburn… but meh, manageable.

 

I had a few days where the fatigue was very strong. The technicians and doctors were constantly checking in on me about this, because it can be quite intense for some people. They say about 15% of patients have fatigue so strong it prevents them from being able to function normally. It is an immune response, where your body is kicked into overdrive to manage what’s going on… But overall, for me it wasn’t a big deal most of the time.

 

I was able to continue exercising, do life, raise kids, see friends, and all that fun stuff. I even started teaching bootcamp once a week again, just to get back on the field! It felt amazing to get out there and do my thing, feel normal and see some of my clients again after almost 7 months!

 

     

 

But then in the last two weeks things started to escalate, and my skin started to change – a lot. Every day I could feel it getting tighter and tighter around my temporary implant… and my skin started to bubble, scab and get to an almost purple colour. You could see the rectangle shape where the radiation entered my body, and there was even a rectangle on my upper back where the beam came in at a different angle.

 

     

 

This is when I had to get really serious about how I took care of the area, and it began to slow me down.

Radiation Therapy PT 1

Radiation Therapy. That was a ride. I started radiation exactly one month after my last chemo treatment, and I did it every single day for 25 days in a row (minus weekends, and holidays).

 

So that means for 25 days I had to arrange childcare, go to the Cancer centre, check in, get changed, wait in a waiting room, get called, get taken to the radiation room, lie down, positioned meticulously, readjusted, and sit absolutely still while the machine buzzed around me. Finish, change, get my schedule for the next day, and so on….

 

All in all, I spent 15-20 minutes in the actual room, and was only being ‘zapped’ for a total of 2-3 minutes.

 

The very first radiation treatment was longer, because the technicians had to find just the right spot and measure it as specifically as possible. They even TATTOO little dots on your chest and side to make sure the lasers are in the exact same spot every single day – you can’t trust marker or pen! These tattoos are permanent, but they’re so small they look like a freckle.

 

    

 

During the treatment you don’t feel anything at all – other than the feeling of your arms falling asleep while they’re positioned above your head. You stare at the machine above you, listen to the music playing in the background and try your best to think happy thoughts!

 

Happy thoughts. Like anything other than the fact that you’re currently being radiated!

 

Ha.

What do you mean I haven’t blogged in months?!

This is my first blog post in MONTHS. What took so long? I blame Cancer. I can do that, because you know, Cancer. I’ll use it when I can, it’s the least I can get from this whole ordeal, am I right? I dare you to challenge me… I had Cancer.

 

Key word right there, did you catch it? HAD. I HAD Cancer. I can proudly say this because after months and months, and all the treatments/tests/surgeries under the sun… I have confirmed that I no longer have any Cancer in my body. It is a pretty epic thing to feel, say out loud and explain.

 

What’s crazier is that it still doesn’t feel real. It still doesn’t feel like this whole thing happened to me.

 

I am still having targeted hormone therapy, every three weeks until April 2020, and I still have another final reconstructive surgery ahead of me sometime in the winter next year. This is just to prevent a recurrence of the Cancer as much as we can. Overall, no more cancer.

 

Bam.

 

Moving the EFF on. But what exactly does that even mean? People always say ‘time to move on’, ‘now you can move on’, and ‘Yay it’s finally over for you’. Is it though? Will it ever feel over? Is it possible to move on? No. Definitely no. The people who truly know what I mean are the people who have also had Cancer themselves.

 

The Cancer is constantly on my mind. Like, literally almost every single thought that goes through mind is somehow connected to Cancer in some way. Maybe it’ll fade over time, but right now it is still very present. Here are some examples:

 

Thought -> Cancer version

 

I’m making Kingsley’s lunch for her first day of school -> I’m tired, probably because of the Cancer related medication I’m taking

 

Today is the first day of school! -> Today is the first day of school, I can’t believe this time last year I was about to find out I had Cancer.

 

Seeing all my school mom friends -> I wonder what they think about my hair, I wonder if they remember I’m the mom that got Cancer?

 

I’m going to Starbucks to write my first blog post in months -> I wonder if the people beside my think I had chemo because I have short hair. The barista smiled at me sympathetically, I wonder if it’s because she thinks I had Cancer. I’m drinking a black Americano, I wonder if my heart will palpitate because I had my Herceptin treatment last week and sometimes caffeine effects that. I’m writing about Cancer. I feel like all I talk about is Cancer…

 

And so on.

 

And so forth.

 

I think you get it.

 

Point is, I’m hoping that this fades with time, because my brain hurts. Literally and figuratively… Maybe it’s because I think ALL the time. What’s next, what do I do now? What is life after Cancer going to be?

 

I guess I’ll find out.

 

Happy Birthday to ME!

Happy Birthday to me! Happy birthday indeed… 34 is going to be an amazing year.

 

Why? Well, to start 34 will be the year I am finished with all this cancer stuff (for the most part), I will have beaten cancer and I will be what ‘they’ consider a ‘cancer survivor’.

 

CANCER SURVIVOR. Weird, it still hasn’t set in.

 

But, that’s pretty cool.

 

It’s also another year where I get to see my children continue to thrive into fantastic little mini humans. Everyday they surprise me, and everyday they get so much bigger and older! Time moves fast my friends, so fast.

 

34 is the year my business and career will really begin to blossom into what I’ve always envisioned. I’ve always seen myself on stage, speaking to large groups of people in the hopes I can inspire them to live healthier and more positive lives. It’s starting, and I know it’s just the  beginning.

 

Plus I’ll go back to work! I’m going to begin teaching bootcamp this summer, personal training, building my nutrition franchise – the whole nine yards. I can’t wait, and it’s going to be fun.

 

What else? Oh yes – fun. Fun in general. 34 is going to be a year filled with the best times with my friends, family, vacations, play dates, parties, events… you name it, I’m doing it and it’s going to be FUN! Life is meant to be fun.

 

Oh, and my hair has started to grow back… WIN.

 

Birthdays are something to celebrate because we are ultimately celebrating life itself. They’re a gift, and we need to appreciate them every single year. I’ve never been more aware of how much we need to appreciate them.

 

So, happy birthday to me!

Chemo hair I DO care

I can’t even believe this was my hair!  I’m finally finished with 5 months of chemo treatments and I’m honestly missing it more then ever.

It is absolutely one of the hardest parts of this whole journey. I don’t recognize myself, I don’t feel pretty, and I feel like I’m putting on a disguise every time I leave the house in a wig or head wrap.

What’s harder, is trying to be brave and ‘own it’ by going bald in pictures or in public. Let me tell you, it’s incredibly hard to put yourself out there to be looked at, because you can see people as they notice ‘oh, that woman has cancer’. It’s something I’ve always found really hard, although my level of ‘I don’t care’ has began to increase, with practice.

As positive as I am, I’m still constantly dealing with these little battles in my mind… and it isn’t easy.

I know it’s a temporary thing and I know it isn’t what’s important. I have all the support in the world and everyone is amazing because they always say the right things, at the right time. But damn I miss that hair!

Side note, yes I know my butt looks good.

Chemo & Herceptin sitting in a tree

Well friends, I have officially completely my 6th round of chemo and I couldn’t be more excited that this part of my journey is coming to an end.

 

I was originally supposed to do 8 treatments, over the course of 16 weeks – but due to the reaction I had to my 5th treatment, the medical team switched up the type of chemo which is administered every 3 weeks instead, and needs one less dose.

 

That’s right – one less treatment! I only have one more treatment. Did I mention that I only have one more treatment left? All of a sudden, it’s almost over.

 

Each treatment has presented a different experience in terms of side effects and challenges, but overall I still maintain that it’s been a relatively ok experience.

 

The main things I’m currently experiencing from my 6th round include body pain (the bone marrow in all of your bones actually ache constantly), nausea, chest pain, peeling fingertips and hands (you’ll notice in my picture that I am wearing large gloves – they’re actually an ice pack to help with this), more hair loss, headache, blurred vision and a general brain fogginess.

 

It only lasts a few days typically, so even though it sucks now and I’m in the thick of it – I know that it won’t be long before I start to feel better again. I’ll have almost a week where I feel stronger and get a chance to recover – and then I take on the last treatment!

 

No sweat, right? Right.

 

HERCEPTIN. This is the drug I’m going to be taking every 3 weeks, via IV in the chemo suite, for a year. I have just completed my 2nd treatment this week as well. The Herceptin is not considered a chemo drug, and doesn’t have the same kind of side effects – so as the year goes on it’ll just be a quick little thing I have to do and shouldn’t affect my day to day life in any way.

 

Herceptin is the drug I have to take due to my HER2 positive status, which makes my breast cancer a category 3 (most aggressive) cancer. Before Herceptin, this particular type of breast cancer was very scary – and now, it is considered the most treatable.

 

Therefore I am grateful for SCIENCE!

 

Chemo was definitely the worst part of my diagnosis. Hands down. It was the only thing I wanted to avoid, the only thing I was afraid of, and the only thing I didn’t ever think I’d ever have to do. So when it became my reality it was hard to swallow. Now that it is almost over, I have to say that it is the part of my story that will probably have the most impact on others going through hard times, so I’ll try to appreciate it for that. You know, looking at the bright side and all….

 

Final thought: 6 down, 1 to go. Bam.

 

Burpees for Boobies

Let’s take a moment to flashback to the whole burpee for boobies movement – do you guys remember that? Some of you might be learning about it for the first time, and let me tell you this is what started my cancer journey on the right foot. Who knew it was even possible to start a cancer journey on the right foot – I know – but it turns out you can.

 

The day after my bilateral mastectomy my girlfriend, and partner in crime – Ms. Jenn Brennan – came to me with an idea to put together a Facebook group where people could share their support all in one place. Since we both have a personal training and bootcamp business background, it only made sense to build some kind of fitness challenge around it.

 

Alas, Burpees for Boobies was created.

 

Now, truthfully at first I had a hard time with this whole concept. I know that people were trying to donate money to my family and I, and this is something that didn’t feel right to me. I felt like there were so many other people who needed it more, or that I didn’t deserve it, we’d be fine… it just overall all felt kind of icky. BUT, it was just a story I was creating in my own head and with lot’s of discussion I had to just let it happen – because if this situation was happening to anyone in my life I’d tell them to shut up and just let people do what they want to do!

 

Plus I was on a lot of painkillers… like a lot. So I didn’t have a whole lot of strong ground to stand on. In fact, this whole conversation isn’t something I remember – I was told a couple days later how it all came about when I started explaining it to people. Turns out I didn’t have the story right!

 

Anyways, where was I? Painkillers…. Oh yes. Thank goodness for painkillers.

 

I think I’m off topic.

 

THE CHALLENGE:

 

30 Burpees for 30 days. Post the video on the Facebook group. That’s it!

 

We chose burpees because they happen to be my favourite exercise. Seriously. When I was training to do my Spartan Races (obstacle course race) I had to really focus on burpees. For every obstacle you can’t complete you need to do 30 chest-to-ground burpees, and let me tell you – they add up! I was so terrified going into my first race that I’d be doing hundreds of burpees that I really focused on not dying from them. They got easier, I got better at them and this is when my personal fitness took a massive turn. My body had never been so fit, and I had never been able to do so much.

 

All because of burpees. So, that was the inspiration and the reason why we chose 30.

 

PLUS – this surgery meant I could no longer do burpees. I’d be able to do them one day again, after I’ve fully recovered from multiple surgeries over the course of a year or longer… but until then, it’s something I can’t do anymore.

 

One of the greatest parts of this group was that anyone could be a part of it. You could donate your time, energy, funds, message, support – whatever felt right to you. There was no pressure, just a whole lot of encouragement!

 

We had no idea what it would turn in to. I couldn’t believe all the people who were participating, posting vulnerable videos, trying burpees for the first time, sticking to it every single day, getting creative with locations, costumes, music and style! It was incredible. In a few days the group grew as big as 1700 people and hundreds of videos were being posted everyday.

 

I know, because I watched every single one. Literally.

 

I really wanted to watch every video, and comment on them, because I wanted everyone to know how much it meant to me that they were taking the time to support me in some way.

 

After my surgery I expected to be binge watching Netflix, movies, etc. But NO! I was binge watching these burpee videos. It made such a difference in my recovery to be in contact with so many people rooting for me. I felt like I was still working in some way, motivating people to get moving, and to do something good for themselves!

 

I was touched that entire families were getting involved, kids, grandparents, parents… Entire companies were getting involved, soccer teams, dance studios, play groups… My daughters school had a Burpee day where the whole school did them in their gymnasium, and my son’s daycare had their whole class of crazy toddlers and brave teachers do them as well!

 

GUYS – THERE WAS A BURPEE FLASH MOB! In Newmarket, a ton of people showed up on a particularly dreary day just to do burpees in public. It was incredible. Did you know that being a part of a flash mob was something on my list of things to do in life? Well it was, and now it’s checked off. (Featured image is from that day!)

 

These burpees were coming from everywhere around me, and it was honestly the most touching experience of my entire life. I am so grateful. It was impossible to be in a bad mood, feel sorry for myself or be super negative when I had all this positivity and support coming at me from so many different angles.

 

So, this group still lives on Facebook if you want to check it out. I do still, and I hope to one day resurrect it! Perhaps around the time I need to have my next major surgery once chemo and radiation is complete….muah hahahaha…

 

Consider yourselves warned.

 

This video tho.

This was a video made by a particularly awesome woman, Maricel. At the beginning of the Burpees for Boobies movement she went ahead and took the time to make a thoughtful video like this!  It was hard for me to watch at first, because it was so early on in my journey and it felt kind of funny having people go so far out of their way for me – but now I’m SO thankful to have it.

For those of you who haven’t seen it, enjoy!

And mom, try not to cry again… hehehe…