Mind Games

This feels like the longest week ever....well, a long 8 days actually. While I feel a little better today, I've been weighed down all week with the fear that a small lump in my left armpit might signify cancer has infiltrated my lymph node(s).

A few weeks ago, around the same time my right boob was really swollen and sore (which it still is but to a slightly lesser degree), I noticed a small, firm lump in my left armpit. The only reason I even noticed it was because a lot of my lymph nodes have been swollen and tender the past three weeks or so - armpit, groin and neck. At first I just figured I was fighting something - there are so many cold/flu viruses around at the moment - believing that, if my glands are swollen, at least that means they're doing their job and fighting any signs of infection, so that's a good thing. Then I noticed the one small but firmer lump (reminiscent of the one I found in my right breast that turned out to be cancer) and then I decided to mention it to my doctor while visiting her last week for a prescription renewal. BIG mistake.....maybe. Her reaction was quite dramatic and has since sent me spiralling into a vortex of questions, fears, doubts, uncertainties, anxieties and general mental mayhem.

"Yes, I see what you mean. You really need to get that checked out."
"Well I have a repeat ultrasound scheduled for Feb. 8th - following up on what they identified as an atypical cyst in my left breast, I thought I'd mention it (the armpit nodule) when I go."
"Ok, good. Yes, you should absolutely mention it. Make sure you do. They need to check that out. And if they can't look at it during that ultrasound, then make sure you come right back and I'll give you a requisition for a separate one right away." (I felt myself do a big gulp.)

"You see an ordinary lymph node, like the one next to it, feels smoother like this...." she said, drawing a sort of kidney-bean shape on the paper drape they put over the bed. "But that firm one you're feeling is more like this...", she drew what looked like a jellyfish. "It has very irregular edges. You need to get that checked out."

Yup, her gentle bedside manner is still decidedly lacking. While there are advantages to your doctor being up-front and cutting to the chase, I came away feeling her honesty was perhaps just a little brutal for my liking....and from there my mind went into total overdrive. For the next six days!

What if it's the cancer again? If it's in my lymph nodes, that's a whole other ball-game - and definitely not good. (Not that having breast cancer in the first place is ever a good thing, but at least it was small and very low-grade.) It'll mean Chemo for sure. I'll lose my hair & feel like sh*t. What after that? What if they suggest a mastectomy? Or double-mastectomy? If that lump's only a few weks old, is it growing fast or did I just not notice anything before? Does this mean I do have some cancer in my left breast as well? Is that what the 'atypical cyst' really is? Could the cancer in my right breast really have travelled to my left lymph node when the right lymph node biopsy came back all-clear? Is that possible? Und so weiter, und so weiter.....

Of course, in my escalating desperation, I turned to Dr. Google, only to read that a firm lymph node generally signifies cancer. Great. Just bloody fantastic! In fact almost all search items associated with firm lymph node came up with breast cancer right alongside. Well isn't that pally? - those two just hanging out together - like best buds - and frazzling my mental state!

Suffice to say, it's been weighing on me horribly all week - I've felt close to tears most days - and this ultrasound (the third on my left breast in 8 months) can't come quick enough. I've been more worried since seeing my Doc last week than I was even pending biopsy results and being given the original diagnosis last May!

For a moment last week I even toyed with the idea of a private ultrasound just so I could get in sooner. (Lorne did that just recently and got in the very next day, paying $350 for a private appointment, compared to the 6 weeks he would've had to wait to get one through regular MSP health care. Thankfully a lump on his bicep that has been quite painful lately appears to be a clump of fatty tissue and benign. Phew!!! Now that the word 'cancer' has so closely touched our lives, it's entirely understandable that he felt he'd rather pay for a private appointment than wait - and worry, not knowing - for a further 6 weeks!)

Anyway, since the report from my last ultrasound stated that it was too difficult to effectively compare reports from two different technicians and from two different machines, I came to the conclusion that paying for a third - that would be in a completely different clinic (not BCCA), on a different machine, with yet another completely different technician - would really be of very little use. (Besides, I could do with using that money to buy a replacement Ipod for the one I dropped down the loo a few weeks ago!)

So with that and the fact that I already have an ultrasound scheduled for Feb. 8th back at BCCA,  I decided I might as well wait. But it's felt like a veeerrrryyy long wait and my mind has been on little else. Needless to say I started to wonder if I'd been just a little pre-emptive in my sense of having had a close escape the first time around. Perhaps there's more to come: a whole other (more ominous) chapter to add in what I'd previously thanked my lucky stars as being a close brush with cancer that had been easily and quickly taken care of. In darker moments recently I've felt like I'm half-expecting the other shoe to drop.

Thankfully by the time yesterday came around I think I'd exhausted all what-if scenarios and finally found room for some less daunting prospects, like: if they didn't notice anything in the previous two ultrasounds, then maybe it's nothing; if it's new from the last one, three months ago, then it would still only be very small; it's not necessarily cancer (is it???), if my right lymph node came back all-clear and that's the side the breast cancer was on, could I really have cancer in the other side without yet having been diagnosed as having cancer there?; if I'm on tamoxifen, wouldn't that be fighting any potential cancer cells?; should I find myself a new, less dramatic and more diplomatic family doctor?

Anyway, as we finally tick to within the last 15hrs to tomorrow's ultrasound, then maybe I should just breathe and hope they at least give me some little of morcel of hope during the appointment and don't just do the exam but tell me nothing (which is usually the case, so I'd better brace myself). And the good thing is, my follow-up appointment with Dr McF, who did my lumpectomy last July, has been moved forward from Feb. 19th to the 12th (apparently he's scheduled to do a surgery on the 19th) - so hopefully, by the time I see him next Tuesday afternoon, he'll have some answers for me. I hope so anyway, since I had to wait three weeks for someone to finally get around to writing up the report from the last one. Failing that I'm booked to see my oncologist on the 20th, for the appointment he cancelled on me from last week because he'd rather see me after the ultrasound - even though that's to check my left boob and not the swelling and pain I've been feeling on the right. Urgh!

And so continues the legacy and mind-f*ck of getting that initial cancer diagnosis. It certainly makes your  head spin and fires your imagination in dark and not-so-wonderful ways.

******************************************

Post-Ultra-Sound update - Feb. 8, 2013

7:45am is unreasonably early to be flashing your boobs at a stranger (I usually wait till at least 9am....hahaha!) - especially when he's a grumpy old git who can't even be bothered to grunt a meagre good morning. Instead he spits out instructions with all the compassion of a Gestapo officer, "Take off your top. Put the gown on, open at the back. Clothes in the basket."

Once changed, I followed him to the imaging room where he was busy at the computer, zipping through my previous reports and images. After a range of snorts and exasperated huffing and puffing he finally turned to me and snarked, "Take your arm out the sleeve. Left side. Are you feeling a lump?"

"Yes, a couple actually, around here...". I pointed to the side of my boob and towards the armpit.

He prodded my boob, "They're very lumpy", he says. (Charmed, I'm sure). Yeah, I've been told that before, doc. Well, I believe the 'technical' term used last time was lumpy-bumpy actually, you ignorant ass.

There was not one degree of warmth to his bedside manner and I soon remembered his overt grumpiness was just the same when doing the ultrasound on my right side almost a year ago. And he's the same misery of a man that got all mad when he couldn't place the wire correctly just prior to my surgery in July, and had to call in two others to help pummel and wrestle my boob around until they got the marker in the right spot.

No surprise then that he gave me no information to go on today. Not one hint. I tried to look up at the screen as he did his thing but it was hard to really see without getting cramp in my neck.

I tried to explain about having swollen lymph nodes and the new, firm node I've noticed in my left armpit. He cut me short, "Show me where." I placed my fingertip on it and he promptly stabbed the spot with a marker pen.

Within 20mins he'd apparently checked out my boob and armpit to his satisfaction - the last two ultra-sounds - both with women - had taken close to an hour. (Of course now my mind is wondering, was he less thorough in his examination, or is it that he quickly saw enough evidence to confirm the worst? Or, if I dare try the silver lining approach, maybe he saw nothing of concern?)

"Ok. You can use that towel to clean yourself up."

With that, his job was done.

I tried to ask if there's any way the report will be available to Dr McF in time for my Tuesday afternoon appointment. "No, Monday is a holiday." he snapped. "If he wants to find out, he can listen to the dictation."

With that I was shown the door.

"Thanks you f*cking Pig! Have a day!"

I'm gonna pop some tags...

"Thrift Shop" - Macklemore and Ryan Lewis

This song completely tickles me and the video's just perfect (bar the wearing of fur coats, of course). Be warned though, it's a little explicit so best kept out of range of younger ears.

As a self-confessed Thrift Store Junkie (get it???), I might just have found my theme tune. Mind you, if this song gets too popular then maybe everyone will start hitting the thrift stores, darn! They already seem to have become much more popular in recent years, which I count as a good thing from a recycling and less obsessive consumerist standpoint, except for the fact it's pushing up prices and often I can't find anything because it's already been so picked over.

I'm all in favour of recycling - much moreso than for avid and unnecessary spending and 'buying into' relentless commercialism that endeavours to convince us we should keep buying, accumulating more 'stuff', snatch up the latest-and-greatest and spend silly money on things just because of the hype and brand/designer name associated with it - or, worse still, because it's what all the 'celebs' are gushing over. Next thing you know it's getting thrown away once the next model comes out.

Thankfully I'm proudly lacking any overwhelming desire to consume for the sake of it or to load up my wallet with a multitude of store/credit cards. I never spend beyond my means and don't even like having a balance on my Visa at the end of the month. I've religiously paid what I owe, as long as I could afford it. Admittedly there have been times I just couldn't, such as unexpected veterinary bills or needing to spread out the cost of a UK flight, but for the most part, my credit card is there for emergencies only and booking holidays.

Shopping at thrift stores (or second-hand/charity shops as we'd call them in England - and they're generally set out much nicer than their dumpier, sticky-carpet, musty-smelling canadian counterparts) is my secret and guilty pleasure - tinged with utter excitement and an awkward, underlying element of shame all at the same time. You just never know what treasures or bargains you might find - and I've had some incredible deals before now that left me with a real 'shopper's high' - but for me, even though I've shopped at thrift stores on and off for many years, there's nevertheless a latent nervousness that I'll bump into someone I know or, worse still, work with. I don't know why I carry such fear of being found out, since I'm secretly proud of recycling, saving money and getting a fabulous outfit for under $50. Besides, I've been a poor student, a poor single person trying to afford rent (not always easy, especially at Vancouver prices!!!) and unemployed more than once - so I know what it's like to really have to penny-pinch without looking like a complete bum. Oddly enough it's more often than not the items I've purchased second-hand that garnish more compliments than those I bought new. Go figure!

I suspect any niggling inner shame stems from childhood, when less popular, scruffier kids suffered the relentless jeering of their peers for having bought their clothes, shoes, sports bag etc. from Oxfam as if it was the scabby equivalent to having dragged them straight from the garbage or off a dead body. Similarly I've worked with people who are all about the labels and always ask exactly where you bought something rather than just complimenting you. There's only a very select few to whom I might own up and proudly admit that I got it on consigment for $15 or at a thrift store for next to nothing. Besides, not everyone needs to know! If someone thinks I look a million dollars, even though I know the outfit is something I got for a steal, I'm certainly not going to burst their bubble now am I?

"Who loves ya, Baby?" We did! I wonder if this
game ever came with lollipops.

Somewhere during my teenage years I certainly had my phase of thinking second-hand was tacky and 'scavvy' (UK slang for scavenging/begging) though I remember my mum sometimes taking us to second-hand stores as kids to get bits and pieces for our school uniforms, my first pair of ice-skates and even some of our favourite board games were ones she'd picked up at Grimsby's well-known 'Parkins Second Hand'; Kojak, Payday, Star Trek to name a few. Just looking at these pictures gives me a pang of nostalgia and homesickness.

The board game no-one else had ever heard of,
not where we grew up anyway.

Star Trek board game ca. 1975
(complete with rubbery blurg)

(In fact, when I last went back to England on my own (Oct. 2010), my Mum and I had a lovely time mooching around the many charity shops of Louth and Grimsby. I always get a kick out of listening to the chit-chat of the little old ladies that work in them and want to adopt them all as my grandma.)

Anyhooo, not to sound like an old whinge-bag but I find stores charge far too much for clothes that often self-destruct after the first wear/wash. I've bought $70 sweaters that turned bobbley after one wear, $150 and $1,500 coats whose buttons literally fell off in my hand, paid good money for shoes that soon split or leak and purchased nice wine-glasses that broke if you so much as looked in their general direction.

So high-street purchase frustrations aside, thrift store/consignment shopping definitely appeals to the more careful (i.e. frugal) side of my nature. Not only that, but popping tags at a thrift store means I can afford to change/re-stock my closet as often as I like, for next to nothing and, if I buy something I later change my mind about, it doesn't bother me so much because I didn't spend much on it in the first place. I usually just re-donate it to thrift. Unless my sister wants it, such as the lovely figure-flattering faux-wrap dress that I bought for $8.99 but later decided its colour was just a bit too dark for my colouring but it works perfectly with her skin tone and hair colour. (I'm fair skinned, reddish-brown hair, she's dark-haired with more olive skin....hence we are rarely assumed to be sisters.)

Mind you, I should clarify that being frugal or thrifty definitely doesn't mean I'm cheap. Quite the opposite - if I have money, then I'm happy to spend it, enjoy it and be generous though I'm by no means spendthrift. Cheap, in my mind, would imply I buy everything thrift, compromising quality/fit/suitability just for the sake a cheap price tag. Noooo, I'm quite fastidious in what I look for and very discerning of quality, fabric, fit, age-appropriateness and colour etc. I'm very picky about my bargains and getting value for money - even at a thrift store.

According to Wikipedia: Frugality is the quality of being frugal, sparing, thrifty, prudent or economical in the use of consumable resources such as food, time or money, and avoiding waste, lavishness or extravagance.

In behavioral science, frugality has been defined as the tendency to acquire goods and services in a restrained manner, and resourceful use of already owned economic goods and services, to achieve a longer term goal.

Common strategies of frugality include the reduction of waste, curbing costly habits, suppressing instant gratification by means of fiscal self-restraint, seeking efficiency, avoiding traps, defying expensive social norms, embracing cost-free options, using barter, and staying well-informed about local circumstances and both market and product/service realities.

One of the major considerations for successful thrift store shopping is in knowing where to draw the line. You can certainly look stunning for under $30 but, make the wrong choices, and you can just as easily end up looking like a badly-packed kit bag or worse. It's really up to you. There's no point fighting your way into a shrunken/bobbley sweater just because it says cashmere on the label, or sporting tight, half-mast jeans simply because they're designer label. A fantastic shirt isn't such an awesome deal when it's sporting a stain down the front (unless you want to take a chance on it washing out). I won't buy a cheap lemon-yellow top that's in mint condition and fits perfectly when the colour looks bleedin' hideous on me. I've come close, I won't deny that, but at the end of the day, just because it's cheap doesn't mean you should buy it. Similarly, just because it fits, doesn't necessarily mean it's appropriate. I've tried on some fabulous party outfits....that would be perfect if I was 22 and hanging out at clubs on Granville Street every Saturday night. Which I'm not....and not.....so I know to leave those for someone else....about half my age.

Nor do I sacrifice quality just for a low price, unless it's an easy fix. I'm not going to spend money (all $5 to $10 of it) on a nice purse if the lining's all torn up and the shoulder strap's frayed, nor will I invest in a brand new Samsonite suitcase for $10 when it's evident some disgruntled kitty has peed in it. (Cat-pee isn't quite the duty-free Eau de Parfum I'm going for when travelling.) Even a discounted 'as-is' price isn't so attractive when the item is broken, worn out or just plain stinky.

That said, even at thrift stores I've noticed prices have definitely gone up over the past few years. Tops that used to average $3.99 are now almost double that. I've bought great jeans for $6.99 but some go for $14.99 or even as high as $29. Boots that were once below $10/pair now frequently range between $15 and $40 and it's not unusual to see a tag of $12.99 on a small handbag, compared to $5.99 just a couple of years ago. But for the most part you can still score some incredible deals, you just need the time and patience to pick through while closing your eyes/ears to some of the freakier characters that often hang out at thrift stores. Or, for those in the UK, the same wierdo's who climb in your car the moment open your trunk (i.e. boot) at a 'Car Boot Sale' only to grab at your stuff before it's even unpacked and begin arguing you down to 10 pence for a pair of pants because there's a button missing! Yes, I speak from bitter experience.

So there are some days where I realize much of what I'm wearing was 'pre-owned' (with the strict exception of underwear - even I definitely draw the line there!) and yet the whole get-up probably cost me less than $50 total, accessories included. (I never could justify the $200 t-shirts at Holt Renfrew or a poncey Louis Vuitton wallet.....not least because I hate the over-priced and overt snobbiness of Holt Renfrew anyway and think the LV design of Louis Vuitton is just plain ugly.) And there's a part of me that sometimes wonders about a second-hand item's previous life - who owned it, where did it come from originally, what was that person's story, had it changed hands before that and who might get it after me? Imagine you followed the life story of, say, a great pair of jeans, shoes, even an armchair or the wordly travels of a suitcase. The tales they could tell, I'm sure. Anyhow, I digress....

If you have the time and inclination you could easily go scouring the thrift stores, garage sales etc. to snap up items and then sell them on to a consignment store or on Craigslist/Ebay. I've definitely seen clothes, purses etc. on sale in a consignment store that I know I'd seen in a local thrift shop the week before, for a fraction of their freshly-inflated price. But that's if you can be bothered to go to that extent - you'd definitely keep yourself busy, but I'm not sure there's all that much money in it. Besides life's too short to tolerate obnoxious consignment store staff, scowling at you with palpable disdain as they profess, "we're already over-stocked for the coming season" - which really translates as; "Why you bring me this shit? I don't like your face. Get out of my sight." Even when you take brand new and very decent stuff to them, however 5 mins perusing their rails will show you a bunch of clothes in way mankier condition than those you just tried to drop off. I've long-since given up trying to consign for those very reasons. 

Anyway, since this posting is already getting waaayyyy too long, I thought I'd wrap up by including a few pics of some of my recent finds - though I'm not convinced the photos do them much justice.

I believe this was $5.99

These dresses actually look great on
but I don't have any pics. Just $8.99 each.

These boots are brand new, super-comfortable & stylish.
What more could you ask for, especially at $9.99? 

A couple of lovely shirts from MEXX - waiting
for the weather to get a bit warmer. ($6.99/ea)

My $6.99 fabulous-find jeans -The perfect fit!
And guess what? I look freakin' awesome in them :-)

While I never ever used to buy footwear 2nd-hand (for foot
hygiene reasons) I've scored some great boots/shoes for
between $5 and $15.

Sequined purses - perfect for money, lipstick, ID and keys.
($2.99/ea)

These bags/purses look much nicer in real life but perhaps a little
garish in these pics. Both Aldo and in perfect condition, $6-$8.

And to prove it's not all about clothes & shoes, here's a
great little sequined jewellery box I scored for $3.99. I'd been
looking for one just to keep on the bedside table - perfect!

Tamoxifen Update - two months on

Is it really just 8 weeks since I started taking Tamoxifen?  Two months down and 58 to go? Funny how it feels like it's been a while and yet not very long at all. Time seems to have stretched out these past few months, in a somewhat dream-like haze, maybe because I'm hovering in a bit of a no-man's land (job-wise and post-cancer scare). This must be one of the few - very few, in fact - periods in my life where I find myself moving through one day at a time, taking each as I find it, rather than beating myself senseless about the future. Giving the steering wheel over to fate for this part of the journey while everything in the rear view mirror lingers, as if held in suspended animation.

It's an odd, yet pleasant sensation and I've decided just to go with it, at least while it lasts anyway. I'm curious (but for once not too daunted...yet) where things might go from here. Feeling this way is somewhat new territory for me and maybe it's part of the overall sense of 'reconnecting' that I've been feeling of late - connecting with myself and the people and environment around me in a way that has changed for the better, even if I couldn't tell you how exactly. If it's down to the meds then damn they're good!

Nevertheless I'm not kidding myself that ye olde familiar sunami of anxiety will no doubt rear its ugly head again at some point - and I haven't totally lost the small voice that pops up at the back of my mind wondering 'if everything's feeling okay, then what's about to go wrong?' - but right now I'd like to savour this otherwise quiet sense of...dare I even say it...serenity.

In a previous post (Sept. 2012) I blubbed out my anxieties at the idea of having to take Tamoxifen for the next 5 years, even though I know it's going to help kick butt against any cancer cells that think they can merrily grab onto my estrogen, beef themselves up and multiply in my breasts or elsewhere. And it was with some trepidation that I even took my first dose (Nov. 16, 2012). So, as a reminder to myself and as information for anyone else facing the same concerns I had/still have about taking Tamoxifen, I thought I'd share what I've personally encountered thus far, in my mere 8 weeks of taking it. (Spoiler alert: Overall, I'm pleased to report it hasn't yet turned into the nightmare I was expecting....fingers crossed!)

• Hot flashes: Thankfully not something I've really noticed and definitely no bursts of sweating cobs or wafting my armpits to cool down (which I plan NEVER to do anyway!) That said, I'm also taking Effexor (about which I'll explain more in a moment) and am told this helps with hot flashes than can be experienced while taking tamoxifen. I suppose I did feel a little warmer in the first few weeks but it was late November so I was actually glad of it. I normally feel the cold very easily and hate being chilled. 
• Mood: Apart from an isolated incident early December - where an old Christmas song playing in a store caught me completely off guard by nearly making me cry right there and then - I have felt surprisingly good lately. In fact better than I have for quite some time. I've never really been a moody person (though I've had my moments) and one of my main concerns about tamoxifen/menopause is that it could send me completely wacky or erratic. Thankfully so far so good and even my PMS was no worse than usual, though I count myself lucky that it's never been all that severe for me anyways.
• Periods: I'm one of the fortunate few to be blessed with relatively easy, short and very regular periods all my life (amen) and for now I'm still having them but hey, it's only been two months on the meds so that might yet change.
• Weight: Well, here's the interesting thing. While I'm definitely not overweight, before starting tamoxifen I decided to invest in a couple of cute, loose-fitting tops and even a skirt and pair of jeans that were slightly loose on me, figuring I should have them on hand, reluctantly anticipating the medication's common side effect of weight gain. At the same time, I also decided to change up my gym workouts a little, increasing the length of my aerobic exercise on the cross-trainer and backing off on the leg weights by a couple of pounds. To my surprise I haven't even been getting as hungry lately nor snacking much between meals so, all-in-all, I've actually lost a few pounds and - more surprisingly - almost an inch off each thigh! Even my 'bubble-bum' (the long-term legacy of having been a figure-skater?) has shrunk a little, which wasn't necessarily my intention. At this point I haven't needed the bigger clothes, which is a pleasant contradiction to what I'd anticipated might happen, but I know it's still only early days so they're there in the closet if things change.
• Muscle aches: One thing I definitely noticed in the first couple of weeks of starting tamoxifen, was that my bum cheeks and legs felt really sore and achey; painful if I sat for long periods and painful during the night, as if the muscles were in a semi-cramp all the time. Although some joint/muscle ache is one of the usual side-effects of tamoxifen, specifically getting aches around the bum/thigh isn't very common. Maybe it was the increased cross-training, firming up muscles that hadn't previously been worked so hard - the same ones I re-discover whenever I go horseback riding. Either way it was bloody uncomfortable and annoying there for the first two weeks or so and regularly woke me up at night. I also had back-ache just on the right side, around/below my kidney (which has happened to a few people on this medication). Thanks to my wonderful - and downright hilarious - chiropractor, Dr. David Mallory, and a few cracking, crunching, twisting and squishing sessions, it has greatly improved and now feels fine. He also taught me a wonderful stretching exercise to target the painful bum muscles that seemed to be in spasm and it's worked a treat!
• Concentration/Memory: Darn, I've forgotten what I wanted to write here. What were we talking about? (Hardy-haaaa.) Actually, this is another area where I'm genuinely relieved since I actually feel a lot less foggy than I have in ages. I feel more awake, 'with-it' and connected, like I'm able to think more clearly, remember things, I'm getting more done and generally being more productive overall. Naturally some of that could be from not being stressed/tired from work etc. - this freelancing gig is very free-ing (so to speak) in that respect. Maybe also because the underlying worries and uncertainties I went through for most of last year have now lifted mostly from my shoulders. I'm not sure, but I'm very glad to feel this overall clarity, it's been gone far too long.
• Overall health: In all honesty I have to say, I feel great. Even though I've led a pretty healthy lifestyle and exercised regularly for years, I'm not sure when I really last felt quite so energized, fit and healthy. Naturally (thanks to that niggling little voice again) I'm expecting to break a leg or something anytime soon - surely something's going to kaibosh this fabulous sense of renouvellement.
• Negative effects?: The only negative effect I've felt thus far (aside from the achey-bum as per above) is that my right boob - the one they found the cancer in - has been quite swollen and tender the past couple of weeks, which might just be down to post-radiation rather than tamoxifen. It started just before Christmas as a regular part of my PMS but still seems to be somewhat swollen and visibly larger than my left boob. It doesn't feel particularly sore anywhere and, even though there's a slight pinkish tone to its lower half and underside, there's no specific sign of infection or anything. I'm not complaining about having a larger boob, I just wish the other side would catch up. My cleavage (minimal though it is) looks like I've stuffed a chicken fillet into just one side of my bra. Anyhow, after two weeks of swelling and no change I finally called my Oncologist (Dr. N.) a few days ago. He's not overly concerned and feels it's fairly common to notice such post-radiation changes in the boob and advised me to take anti-inflammatories 3x/day and go to see him if there's no improvement in 10 days. Unfortunately that will coincide with my next period, so it'll be even more swollen at that point, so I may have to see how things go for the next 15 days or so before deciding whether I should go back to see him.

During my Dec. 14th follow-up appointment with Dr N, we discussed how my first 4 weeks on Tamoxifen had been and how I was feeling overall. I was pleased to have him tell me, "Well, if you're doing ok after this first month, that's a very positive sign - you're obviously tolerating it very well and the exercise is going to help too." Wohoooo! Maybe I can fight off many of the common side-effects after all.

Of course one thing to note, having listed all of the above, is that I also switched my anti-depressants about 3 months ago, from Zoloft to Effexor, after reading several articles that zoloft and tamoxifen don't mix very well, since zoloft (as well as Paxil and Prozac) can inhibit the anti-estrogen effects of tamoxifien. My oncologist also confirmed this and had recommended I switch to Effexor instead (which I'd never heard of before) especially because it also helps with the hot flashes than can be a side-effect of tamoxifen.

So I'm guessing my current sense of wellbeing is likely aided, though not soley a result of, the change to Effexor, even though I'm taking the lowest dose of just 37.5mg/day (and even on Zoloft I took a baby dose of just 25mg every other day, somewhat sporadically at that).

It's odd for me to write about anti-depressants here, since I don't really tell anyone about it and its taken me years to even get comfortable with the whole idea myself. Partly down to that British stiff upper lip that, even when the going gets tough, you should just soldier on through it, silently and just "buck up and stop feeling sorry for yourself". Unfortunately, for those of us living with the legacy of seratonin issues and varying degrees of depression and/or seasonal affective disorder (SAD), we'd happily ignore the dark and overwhelming feelings that sometimes virtually suffocate us and simply 'snap out of it', if only it were that easy!

But that whole converstion will be in my next post. For now, I'd just like to say, I'm feeling FAB-u-lous and very glad to be able to say so!!!

New year, new do!

Day 7 of 2013 is almost done and I'm still feeling remarkably optimistic. Well, despite the fact I just heard our very good friends in Victoria, John & Debbie, have decided to call it quits (really sorry to hear that news) AND I dropped my much-loved ipod down the loo at the gym yesterday. Crap! (Well, not literally. As luck would have it the loo was freshly-flushed and I hadn't even used it yet. Sorry, too much information, I know.) Thankfully it survived, a little soggy but largely unscathed and I even got it working again only to drop it a second time shortly thereafter and watch in horror as the back smashed open and its guts spilled out onto the carpet. I LOVE my Ipod, it's perhaps my favourite tech gadget ever, and I'm already mourning its loss. It's presently sitting at home with the back off in hope the insides might completely dry out and, by some miracle, maybe it'll be revived...though I have my doubts and suspect it kenne tek na moore, Cap'n and has indeed gone to meet its maker. I know there's the Ipod feature built into my Iphone but it's just not the same, besides I've also lost all my playlists now :-( Bugger!!!!

Anyhooo, in other news, I haven't really made any resolutions for this year other than to stop procrastinating - hopefully I'll even get around to it before the year's out. I'm sure there are more plans I could/should come up with but I haven't really stopped and put my mind to it yet. Hmmm, need to think more on that one.

Mind you, I did already take advantage of the current promotion at Vancouver Photo Workshops' Open House event next weekend and have signed myself up for 3 seminars:

1. B&W Long Exposures
2. Speedlights
3. Creative Lighting

So I guess that's not a bad start.

Other than that, I decided - on Jan. 1st - to give myself a new do for the new year and tried my first ever Colora Henna Cream ($8.99). I've used their henna powder from time-to-time over the past 10 years but never the cream, since they don't do it in my favourite colour, Red Sunset, so I opted for (what I thought would be) a fairly close match, Auburn. While the cream is much less messy to use than the big globby cow-pat you get from the henna powder and doesn't smell as grassy, the colour I ended up with turned out darker than my natural colour and not really all that red. I had wanted something sassy to kick it up a notch but, while it looked ok, it wasn't quite what I'd hoped for and hadn't wanted to go darker. I also noticed that it felt drier and squeakier when I shampooed it whereas the powder product always makes my hair feel healthy and conditioned.

Sooo, last night, I decided to give it another go, this time using the powder, especially since I got my hair cut on Saturday with my long-time hairdresser, Martin.

Martin is a very easy-going and laid back guy who runs his own minimalist but funky salon - Red Square - tucked away on the 2nd floor of a fabulous old Vancouver insurance building downtown. He cuts my hair with effortless poise and great conversation, all for about 30% less than most other stylists. What's not to like?

In fact I've been seeing him, on and off (though mostly on) for almost 17 years, basically since first moving to Vancouver. I hate finding new hairdressers, it makes me so horribly nervous - moreso even than going to the dentist - so if I see someone with a great haircut, I'm never afraid to ask where they got it done - hence how I found Martin back in '96!

Even though I've cheated on him repeatedly over the years, in a rebellious attempt to try someone/somewhere new, I always, always go back and he's such a great guy, he graciously forgives my infidelities without ever bearing a grudge - which is a very good thing because the last thing you want is somebody who's pissed off with you going at your hair with a pair of scissors. (Though I recollect a few hairstyles in the past where you'd definitely suspect someone had been out for vengeance.)

I went in there armed with pictures showing exactly the way I wanted it layered so as to give it body without the bulk (my hair's sooo thick, it almost never holds a 'style'). Unfortunately the damp Vancouver weather pretty much turned it into a haystack before I even got home but, having had chance to style it myself since then, I'm really pleased with what he did. Yay, go Martin!

Next step, I wanted to put back the sassy into the colour as well, to liven it up a bit more. Returning somewhat reluctantly to the idea of using the powdered henna ($7.99), I shuffled off to Whole Foods to pick up a box of Colora's "Red Sunset".

Personally, I'm always 50-50 about whether to colour my hair mainly because I have literally had people and hairdressers in the past convinced I must have coloured my hair even though I never, ever had. Not to sound conceited but I like my natural colour, it's a chestnut brown with red highlights that sometimes go blonder in summer. As a kid I was sometimes nicknamed 'Ginger' at school because it was a much stronger red (just like the Milkman, we always said...which is a whole other story in itself but I'll save that gem for another time). So there have always been red tones and highlights, albeit some some of those highlights seem to include a little more grey the past couple of years - eeek! Heck, when I worked in the Maldive Islands my hair actually turned completely blonde from the sun, to the extent people asked if I'd dyed my hair or my eyebrows! Pah.

So I was about 30 before I first ever tried colouring my hair and the only reason I did that was because I was trying to grow it longer. To avoid the boredom of waiting for it to grow, I decided to change up the colour instead. Unfortunately it backfired. The colour was OK but I used regular colour products that were heavy on ammonia and they basically destroyed my hair, to the point I had to get a fair amount cut off again. Doh!

Anyhow, I digress. Truth be told, using a henna powder is a messy, sloppy and muddy affair, that leaves your hair smelling like spinach for the next 2-3 days, however it's also a wonderfully natural product, full of herby, planty, earthy goodness and, more importantly, it's not tested on animals and contains no animal bi-products. Perfect for this vegetarian and environmentalist. It doesn't actually change your hair colour but rather paints a thin layer of colour over each strand that enhances the richness of colour and still allows your natural highlights to show through. What's more, it makes your hair feel great afterwards - smooth, rich and fabulous - and washes out slowly over a period of several months, sparing you the two-tone effect of old versus new growth. Well, it seems that way for me but maybe that's because I use a colour that's already pretty close to the natural red tones in my hair. A hairdresser once advised me against using henna because it coats rather than structurally alters your hair which (allegedly) blocks the absorption of colour if you later choose to get your colour done at a hair salon. You'd have to wait at least 6 months for the henna 'coating' to wear off. But since I'm way too thrifty to be spending $200 on getting my hair coloured at a salon, I'll stick with all that I love about my ($7.99) henna, thanks.

Finally. a smoother, soupier mix
rather than the usual lumpy cow-pat.

I have to say I was pleasantly surprised that the henna I used last night seemed to be a much more refined powder than it has been in the past, far less of a lumpy, grassy, cow-pooh type texture, and thus went on relatively easily with a lot less mess than usual. They suggest keeping it on for an hour but I always go a little longer, mainly because my hair's longer and really quite thick, so I went 75mins but could probably still have gone another 10-15. That said, I'm thrilled with the result (I guess I should post a photo). It's definitely redder than the last one though perhaps still more auburn than copper but I really quite like it all the same.

So I came into work today feeling like I had a whole new do.....and no-one has said a word. Nothing. I'm never sure what to make of that. Same as when you've had your haircut and no-one comments or else simply states, "Oh, you got your hair cut" and leaves it at that. You're left hanging for the rest. And? Do you mean....'and it looks hideous'? Do you mean....'and it looks great'??? What????

But one thing I know about the place where I work (and what pissed me off working there before) is that nobody ever really says much of anything. Ever. Heck, I've learned to be grateful if I get so much as a grunt or minimal eye-contact after saying 'Good morning'.

So stuff them, I think the colour has some pzazz and the cut is awesome (even though I hate that word), and that's all that matters! Ahh, the empowerment of being in your 40's and no longer giving a sh*t what people think! Or maybe it's the fiery redhead in me fighting back? ;-)

Eat, Drink and Merry Ho, Ho, Ho!

Because nothing says Christmas like fleecy
HoHoHo's and massive Rudolph slippers

Wow that was fast. Another Christmas done and dismantled piece-by-piece and packed away for the next 49 weeks. I swear it zooms by faster each year. No sooner do you take a moment to come up for air, scoff your first mince pie and savour the satisfaction of wrapping that last gift when... WHOOOOOSH.....the shreds of paper, boxes and tags are already out by the kerb, neglected and rained on, pending the city recycling truck. A few drinks and a burbling of Auld Lang Syne in-between and SLAM....you're back at your desk where jingle bells is quickly replaced by the sedentary and somewhat melancholy keystrokes of catching up on emails. Yup, that's all folks! Nothing more to see here.

Despite the fact it seemed to come and go in a blur of baubles, eggnogg and Quality Street, we had quite a lovely Christmas and a largely uneventful New Year with family, friends, felines and the love of too much eating, drinking and general merriment. We always say we shouldn't go so crazy on the chocolate treats and delicious nibbles (that we deny ourselves all year) and yet....miraculously...we nevertheless seem to end up with way too much. Then we proceed to kid ourselves with that ol' chestnut "We'll never eat all this, you know", or "Let's just save the extra cookies and Ferrero Rocher", but where there's a gob there's a way and it all manages to disappear before too long, somehow.

It was on Christmas Eve 2002 that Lorne completely surprised me by passing an early gift across the table just before dessert at Raincity Grill. A diamond ring was literally not what I was expecting to find in there and, after several flabbergasted, wide-eyed and red-cheeked "Oh my God"s I said "Yes" and so began what has been a further 10 wonderful years. We usually sort of celebrate it in some small way each year, especially being Christmas Eve n'all, and a couple of years ago Lorne booked us a surprise stay at the lovely Hotel Le Soleil in downtown Vancouver (the same hotel we stayed at on our wedding night in 2004). It was such a charming, pre-Christmas treat, going for dinner and feeling so wonderfully spoiled, that this year I decided to do the same (amen to having had a few weeks' work before Christmas.)

As luck would have it, the Sutton Place Hotel emailed me a last-minute deal that I couldn't resist so I booked us for Dec. 22nd where we enjoyed a fancy-pants room, a quick swim down in the spa pool, a stint in the hottub and a cheeky cocktail before heading out to a delicious dinner at Cin Cin's restaurant on Robson Street (thanks Lorne). From start to finish it was such a nice evening, a perfect date night and there's a lot to be said for an overnight getaway, even when it's virtually on your own doorstep. 

As for the remaining blur of the holidays:

• We stayed home Christmas Eve (watching Bad Santa - the caustic, crude but very funny antithesis of your average Christmas movies)
• Apparently I was really good this past year because Santa generously left a sleek and sexy Nikon 55-300mm VR zoom lens under the tree for me. Wohooo, nice one 'Santy Claus'! I've been wanting one for a couple of years (it's all about the Vibration Reduction when it comes to a good zoom lens and my current Sigma lens is driving me crazy) but I know they're not cheap (and we set ourselves a $ limit this year) so I kept it as my secret wish for if/when I get enough cash but never put it on my list. So don't be fooled by that fluffy red suit and jolly ol' laugh - Mister Santa has his finger firmly on the pulse and he really does know just what you're thinking. Guess I'd better get out there and start snapping some well-focussed shots, stat! (If ever the rain stops!)
• Call us saddoes but Lorne and I quite enjoyed tormenting the cats with their gifts (spritzed with catnip beforehand, of course) and, for perhaps the first time ever, even Mishka came and sat by the tree with us and started rummaging for her own gifts. Those two crazy boys, Mel and Louis, were all excited and we're constantly amazed at just how much they've managed to draw Mishka out of her former reclusive and indifferent self. It was all very endearing.
• We held Christmas dinner at our place this year for which Lorne made a scrumptious veggie meat pie/tortiere and Vicky, River and Bronwyn all came over as well as Lorne's good friend Steve, whose family lives out of town. It was great to hold it at our place (since it also meant we could slip extra Bailey's into our morning coffee) and everyone had fun pulling crackers, sharing the terrible jokes, the mandatory wearing of tissue-paper crowns and (unbeknown to River) Bronwyn secretly scooped up the lion's share of the cracker toys. I suspect a little double-fisted cheating was involved.
• Once again Vicky and the kids gave us such thoughtful gifts, including the hand crafted and creatively iced Christmas cookies (per photo). And we love spoiling them at Christmas too, especially since Bronnie and River don't really have any/many other relatives here plus they've all had such a crappy last several months, what with one thing and another. So all-in-all, Christmas Day was a blast!



Bronwyn was so meticulous in icing gingerbread

cookies for me and Lorne. As you can see, there aren't

many left.

• On Boxing Day we dropped by to see our friends Steve & Heidi and their two girls (Charlee & Andi). It was a festive open house thing and there were many people there we'd never met before, folks that they know through their daughters' school etc. The kids wanted to play Dance Dance Revolution on the Wii, which, as far as I could tell, seems to involve them dancing like little hookers to cheesy pop songs, definitely not my thing and, if I had daughters, I'm not so sure I'd want them playing it either. They were obviously having fun, and I'm a very open-minded person, but the idea is to copy the dance movements of a young female character on screen, who's twisting, gyrating and strutting her stuff like they would at any regular peeler bar. Talk about early and detrimental stereo-typing, especially since it's aimed at kids. Maybe I'm just a no-fun feminist who prefers to the lesser known Indie bands on KEXP as opposed to the nauseating mainstream pulp churned out on local radio. Then so be it. We still had a nice time but group dancing games and anything remotely Karaoke just aren't my thing.
• Dec 28/29 Lorne and I made our usual pilgrimmage over to Victoria to visit our good friends John, Mike and Debbie with the added bonus that Vicky came with us too this time. With Mark having the kids for a few days and Vicky mentioning she wouldn't mind getting out of town for a change of scenery, it worked out perfectly and I'm so glad she came. It's always a relaxing time at John & Debbie's and this time was no exception - too much food 'n' booze and the pre-requisite screening of an old movie while enjoying a tasty cuban cigar in John's 'man cave'. It was the first time I'd actually seen Hitchcock's 'The Birds' from start to finish and I'm wondering where I can get that flattering soft-focus look that Tippi Hedren pulls off so flawlessly. Lorne says it's vaseline smeared on the camera lens.....darn, how do I convince people to rub vaseline across their eyeballs just so I'll look more glamorous?
• John cooked a delicious dinner that night and Mike came over too, I just hope he didn't think we were trying to set him up with Vicky just because they're both now single.....but hey, he's a nice guy and she's fabulous, so you never know - but I can honestly say it wasn't our intention to try. I don't do that matchmaking thaaang, mainly because I had too many 'friends' try it on me during my years of singledom and politely resented that awkwardness of being the single person so carefully placed next to the only other single person, while everyone 'casually' looks on, like avid bird-watchers, waiting to see if we'd start puffing feathers and bobbing our heads in mutual attraction. 
• Next morning (Dec. 29) we drove out to Saanich to an old-school local diner where it was a cheap thrill to be mid-40's and still the youngest people in the room. Saanich is unmistakably a retirement community. If Victoria is the city people retire to, then Saanich is where the Victoria retirees go to retire. Us "young'uns" are few and far between and I suspect the local version of road-racing involves mobility scooters and zimmer frames. So if ever you're feeling old, spend the day in Saanich, it's like drinking from the Fountain of Youth. Not that I have anything against seniors, far from it. In fact a big part of noticing was because Vancouver's become such a young & hip city that you don't really see so many seniors these days and I really miss that. And if they're all moving to Saanich then I have to say it'd be the perfect retirement community, everyone and everything is so close by. And, for the record, I actually love those very-american old-school diners too. They're a rare breed in Vancouver these days, having mostly been ripped out or demolished only to be replaced by a high-end 'boutique' clothing store or a souless and generic sports bar boasting 16 big-screen TVs and zero character.
• On New Year's Eve we just stayed home, as did most people I know, mainly because we're all still grounded from public merriment in the nanny state of Vancouver plus anyone who ventures out is obliged to pay some silly New Year's "Party" entry fee to get into even the cheesiest of bars and then faces a long walk home because cab drivers refuse to do short (cheaper) runs. Us adults aren't permitted any public merriment here since the Stanley Cup riots in 2011 and it took 17 years for them to ease up on that, after the same thing happened in 1994. At this rate the next hope of participating in any public New Years celebrations in the self-proclaimed 'best city on Earth' will be in 2028 soonest, by which time we'll have all retired to Saanich! So Lorne and I stayed home with the kitties, ate pretty much the rest of the Christmas leftovers and,watched the repeat of New Years' countdown celebrations from NY and Toronto that had already been and gone 3 hours earlier.

And then it was January 2nd and back to work.

So much for my 'concise' summary of the Christmas holidays (sorry, I just can't resist throwing out the word 'Christmas' - instead of 'holidays' or 'festive break' - just to piss people off.)

Well, here's to a Happy New Year! May it rain utter fabulousness on us all!

Counting Blessings

As we barrel towards the final 24 hours of 2012, I realize it's one of the few years that I will not be sorry to see the back of. It seems that - for myself, my sister and for various friends, family members and even friends-of-friends - the year 2012 has not been a very kind one. As one who usually feels somewhat daunted by the prospect of a whole new and unwritten year unfolding in front of me, it's quite refreshing to feel at least a little positive anticipation about moving towards the as yet blank pages of chapter 2013.

But even though 2012 was, by and large, a bit of a blur and has not been one of my better years - thanks to losing my job, going through breast cancer, being unemployed for the better part of 8 months and watching my sister's marriage come to an end - I am nevertheless able to count up a series of blessings that have accumulated around me, some of them even in spite of their circumstances. There have been times of stress, uncertainty, fear, rejection and worry however, while it might have been a more trying year, I still couldn't say it was absolutely horrendous and for that I am grateful, because things really could have been a lot worse.

Rather than go into too much detail (since much has been written in my posts previous to this), I thought I'd make a quick list because - even in the tough times - it helps to stop, take a breather and really count your blessings:

1. I am blessed with a wonderful husband, Lorne, who never ceases to amaze me with his unwavering love, support, compassion, concern and just being there for me in every way. I couldn't ask for a better life partner and, especially this year, he has outdone himself in being all that and so much more. Thank you!
2. I've enjoyed a renewed closeness with friends and family, even friends I haven't spoken to in years and those I don't even know so well. I have felt very loved and appreciated this year, that's for sure.
3. Being laid off was upsetting and felt so unfair, but I was given a decent severance that allowed me to enjoy a fairly relaxing couple of months off, until we left for our 3-week trip to the UK in June, and subsequently the time and freedom to deal with the breast cancer diagnosis, surgery and radiation treatments without that added pressure of feeling like I should be making up the time at work. Admittedly, being unemployed so long often left me to ponder a little too much inside my own head with the 'what ifs' and 'maybes', but if ever I needed space to wrap my head around something, then not working these past months has certainly been a blessing.
4. I'm eternally grateful that my cancer was small, low-grade and found very early. Furthermore I have received prompt, high-tech treatment and am so lucky to be living among the world's top breast cancer researchers, scientists and doctors. I didn't have to lose a breast, I didn't need chemo, I never lost my hair and there is a 5-year course of medication available to me to further minimize the chances of this cancer coming back. Were I living in the US, the treatment alone would have soaked up all our savings and then some. In many other countries it might not even be available to me at all.
5. The timing of our UK trip - planned before I lost my job or learned about the breast cancer - was impeccable, a very welcome distraction between diagnosis and surgery and a chance to reconnect with my family on a deeper level perhaps than other visits.
6. Talking of our England trip, I also count my blessings that my mum, who's taken to falling asleep while smoking in bed or in her armchair, has thus far failed to burn down the house and that I was there to stub out the lit cigarette that fell from her hand and merrily smouldered away on the living room carpet. Admittedly I was furious at the time - I've always hated that she smokes so much anyway - and when that happened, on the last night of our stay with her in June, I felt sick with a mix of anger, frustration and overwhelming worry that she might just die in a house fire one day - and likely sooner rather than later - self inflicted! (Lorne's best friend lost both parents that way not too long ago.) It's a horrible thought but a possibility that I am personally powerless (and too far away) to change. 
7. I am grateful that having so much time off this year has enabled me to be a much greater support to my sister, Victoria - spending time with her and the kids, especially in the midst of her separation from Mark and then the lengthy up-heavel of moving house. I am forever in awe of her stamina, strength, sheer determination and incredible strength of spirit as she pushes herself through what sometimes seems to be an endless uphill battle. 2012 has been a very tough year for her too, so let's hope 2013 brings better times!
8. In return, Vicky has been an incredible support to me in navigating breast cancer, thanks largely to her own experiences just a couple of years ago. While it's been a pathway we never expected to share, I can't think of anyone I'd rather have by my side who has already been through it. I swear that it even helped lessen some of the initial shock and fear of my own diagnosis back in May, since it was no longer the first time I'd heard those unwanted words spoken so close to home. And when Vicky had a further scare this summer - with what thankfully really was a benign cyst - I was able to be there with her - in fact we sat together at the hospital, chatting our heads off (as always), right up to the moment they wheeled her bed into the OR.
9. I've also been lucky to have the time to get back into a regular workout routine - both during and since the radiation treatments - keeping active and topping up those endorphins. Aside from the Christmas junk food (ahem!) I currently feel fitter and more energetic than I have in a long time.
10. I am also blessed with a good friend and ex-boss, Bev, who has been supportive in both a personal and professional capacity. Having lost her own best friend to a 10-year battle with breast cancer last year, Bev was someone I could talk to when my sister was diagnosed and has since befriended me in the same way, especially by offering me freelance work shortly before Christmas. Basically I'm back doing the job I left in 2011, only on a freelance basis and it helps me (and Bev) in so many ways. It's just a temporary gig but is pretty flexible, the extra money has certainly helped, just in time for Christmas and the work might even run through January. The extra cash and freedom from my own personal procrastination is very handy and perfect timing. While I'm back in the saddle work-wise, you could also say I'm riding the gift horse they call Hypocrite (or sleeping with the enemy), since I originally left the company because of (among other reasons) their voracious desire to focus on projects in/around the Alberta oil sands, to which I am absolutely environmentally opposed. However, they've offered me a decent hourly rate, it gets me out and around people again and it means I can use the writing, editing, proof-reading and desktop publishing skills that I didn't get as much opportunity to use in my last job but would definitely like still to use in the future. Besides, I'm still good friends with a couple of my immediate co-workers, so it's been a seamless transition and has spared me the patronizing and nauseating happy-clappy Sparkle-Barbies at the local temping agencies! 

Well, that's ten things right off the top of my head in a year that's certainly had its moments. And if it hadn't all happened this year, I might not be writing this post, so what else can I say? Take solace even in the small things and hold onto those moments of grace, compassion and gratitude - no matter how fleeting.

Three years

My dearest Lucy,

Three years already and I still miss you every day. Thank You for all those amazing cuddles and the unique gift of sharing 11 precious and wonderful years of your life.

Such an incredibly adorable sweetheart, Lucy, your loving spirit lives within me every day and for that I am truly blessed.

Love you with all my heart, my little Lucy Button.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s beginning to look a lot like.....déjà-vu!

And so, the tree is up. It's been a little over a week and it's survived thus far....mostly....although some of the decorations aren't faring quite so well.

Since Mel and Louis unceremoniously demolished our tree last Christmas (as you'll see from the pictures below), we had no choice but to buy a new one this year and ended up with one that appears to be a 7.5 footer - way larger than the display model in the store - that is now virtually devouring the whole living room. We actually bought it early November and I confess, we even set it up that same day. NOT because we're those people, I might add (who get everything Christmassey well underway 6-8 weeks in advance) although Christmas ads began popping up on TV even before Hallowe'en and many stores wasted no time in cranking out the old seasonal faves as of 12:01 am on Nov. 1st.

Noooo. We put the tree up right away as an experiment with our kitties - namely Mel and Louis - since those two rambunctious goofballs celebrated their first Christmas last year by systematically destroying the tree, branch-by-branch and at least 8-10 decorations at a time.  

One of their first victims was Rudolph (left). Let's just say poor Rudolph is now an amputee misfit toy perhaps better known as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Lame Deer, who had, just like the tree, merrily survived unscathed for 11 years and 5 cats! The Curious Incident of Rudolph in the Night simply started the bauble rolling, so to speak, and was quickly followed by almost all of the decorations, at one time or another, mysteriously vanishing overnight, only to be stumbled upon (quite literally) in various corners of the house for the next 11 months -  maimed, slobbered on, defaced with teeth marks and generally looking like mini ruins of their former selves. Mel, it turns out, is rather partial to anything shiny, silver, sparkley or covered in glitter - quickly earning himself the nickname Magpie Mel. I lost count of how many times we had to chase him as he dashed off upstairs with something in his mouth ready to hide it under the bed. Louis was less obvious but just as guilty. On more than one occasion we caught them diving from their favourite hangout on the window-seat straight into the middle branches of the tree! The whole thing shook, decorations fell and whichever cat wasn't the tree-diver was waiting down below, ready swipe any decorations that fell off in the kerfuffle.

Another of their favourite 'Reindeer games....haha, get it? Was "Let's see how far we can bend the Rudolph at the top". As you can see, we came downstairs one morning to find he'd been dragged southwards a full 90 degrees, exactly to kitten-in-the-window height, dishevelled yet remarkably still intact.

I’m amazed it hadn’t flipped right back up again, catapulting the culprit feline(s)

at 90mph right through to the dining room!

Reindeer down under - literally!

Not satisfied with amputations, theft, destruction and generally wreaking mayhem,

they proceeded to climb the branches till virtually all of them broke in their holders,

leaving the tree crippled and looking more like a massive glob of spinach

slumped in the corner of the living room.

Alas there really was nothing we could do to save it.

Within 3 weeks it had pretty much ceased to be.

One old, beaten and forlorn tree
- gone to meet it's maker.

Mel, totally enamoured with a 'real' fire.

So this time, while Lorne was away for a week with his friends getting their eardrums blasted on their long-awaited heavy metal cruise, The Barge to Hell, I put on a Christmas movie, treated myself to some festive 'spirits', put a duraflame log in the fireplace, much to Mel's endless enjoyment, and began the long task of untangling lights (despite the fact I always put them away so carefully each year), pulling said string of lights away from grabby, clawing cat paws and, in my usual meticulous (verging on OCD) manner, dressed it up in our 100 or more decorations - which took me about the next two days!

 



Tadaaa. Behold - new tree in all its glory!

Not to sound boastful, but I was really quite pleased with the result. Just as well, since it was short-lived after that.

For the first week the tree stayed safe and intact despite the fact 2-3 decorations are regularly being pulled off during the day shift and 3 more during the night. And then it became 3-4. And now it's about 5-6 each time. Rocking horses have lost their rockers. Stars have been stripped of their golden trim. Angels have bent wings. Bells are sneakily being jingled at all hours of the night and ol' Rudolph at the top seems to lean in a new direction each morning.

Our living room furniture now looks more like a pile of dodgem cars since we’ve had to squish things close together so as to keep a ‘safe’ perimeter of clearance around the tree, because Mel and Louis soon decided to launch themselves straight from the armchair, couch, window-seat or Lorne's cigar humidor, right into the lower and middle branches of the tree.

Ah bless, courtesy of those sneaky little critters, it’s certainly beginning to look a lot like déjà-vu as the once-sturdy branches are starting to collapse, one on top of the other, throughout the bottom half of the tree. In fact the mid-left looks just like a cannon ball blew right through it.

For now I’ve used long screws to try and wedge the broken branches back up to (almost) their correct position but we’ll see how long it lasts. Looks like another new tree or else no tree at all for next year.