Achoo!

I think I've caught a bad case of stage fright.

I've had a website in the works for a while, which is meant to help fill the void of information for young adults with cancer. We simply do not have the support we need and I want to help change that. I find writing on subjects such as our changing body image or parenting through cancer flows quite easily for me....until now.

Now that I have the template ready for me to put the articles into, I seem to have clammed up. My Photoshop also froze and my writing works best when I am amalgamating it with a picture. My plan was to write a small article everyday. I'm not looking for sheer brilliance, just something which will help inspire and help people to not feel so alone.

I'm not sure why I can't catch the flow again and knock out a few. It's what I love doing. I just can't get my groove on.

I just can't keep staring at that beckoning template forever. Maybe I should listen to some loud ANGRY music and go for a walk?

Loud and angry sounds good.

Artful Blogger Magazine Contest

I came across this Artful Blogger magazine online at some point. I absolutely had to have it! I became over eager and ended up with two. Oops.


So, I decided to give it out as a blog prize. I was going to have people vote on which of my faux Baldylocks ads they liked best but now my Photoshop has gone on strike. Eeek.

I love and collect inspiring quotes so what I will have you do to enter, is to leave your favorite quote in the comments. When the week is up I will draw a name out of a hat and send it to the winner.



Please, lets give this (expensive) magazine a good home.

Lost

Memory is an odd and elusive thing. It favors our own particular mind set and our own values. We may remember any particular situation differently to someone else because of what we bring to that memory. We constantly dwell in our own existence.

And to exist is to have come from somewhere. A childhood, a year, a yesterday.

My yesterday is lost. My last year and the year before that is lost. This sickness and therapy has blurred and destroyed my memory to the point of making me wonder, am I still here?

My weeks and months seem to have no meaning because I cannot remember what I did, who I saw or what I thought about. I have nothing to show for it except lost time and emptiness. I have a few markers which I can go by to let myself believe over 2 years have passed. I remember my grandfathers funeral, a wild weekend I had, my great uncles funeral and then a blur of medical procedures.

I want to know what I did yesterday, I want to remember my children growing up and I want to remember important or even uneventful days. Without that who am I?

I've been photo documenting this entire process since just before my bone marrow transplant, so I have a visual diary and I have some things I wrote with dates on them. And thank goodness for this blog. Without it I'd be nowhere.

The True Meaning of Cursing

Today is special. I discovered the true meaning of cursing. Oh sure, I've tried it out a little here and there online but I was missing the true depth of what it means to say, "Fuck'n, Fuck'n, Fuck, Fuck!".

Earlier the sun was shining, it was a beautiful out and I spent hours making faux Baldylocks ads on my laptop. I had about 6 photos which I had manipulated and played with until they were just right, and I'm insanely picky. Some of the results I had from knowing what I was doing and some were happy accidents. That and a lot of work. I was just feeling this glorious halo of satisfaction when WHAM! My computer shut off for no reason! OH MY FREEK'N.....!!!!

If I could illustrate with a photo I would but unfortunately it was, way messy.

When I was in University I had heard urban legends of long essays being deleted because they hadn't been saving all the way through. It had never happened to me. I thought it was what you said when you were lazy and missed a deadline? Apparently it can happen to anyone.

Oh Mac. Why did you betray me? This is our first real spat, it's been true love without a hitch since last January. I guess the honeymoon period has now worn off. I would have thrown your sorry ass out the window if it had been any closer.

That's when I learned the true meaning of "(add various and repeating, horrific foul language here)".

I'm drowning my sorrows right now in pickles and martinis. Ok, just pickles.

Here's one I redid.



Oh, and check out how many thumbs up I received today from my fellow bloggers and Etsians for my definition of Baldylocks on Urban Dictionary. One person gave me a thumbs down. BOO!



Kelly from Chemopolooza was my first one! (besides me). Now that I'm famous and published I guess it all evens out in the end?

WooHoo!

I'm officially baldylocks.com! Type it in! You'll get my blog! And if you type it into Google I'm #2. I was ticked off that I was outdone by Urban Dictionary, so I put my 2 cents in by putting the REAL definition of Baldylocks in! Ha ha! I rule!





If you want you can click onto Urban Dictionary and give my definition a thumbs up!!

My definition rocks. Take that UrbanD!

Normal-ish

I feel normalish today. Normalish in the way that I can vaguely conceptualize what it used to mean to be me. I swear I remember me vividly but I have to admit my memories wrap around my few photos. I used to be cute, I was a workaholic. Heck, I was even cute without hair.

For some reason I feel sadish. I would have thought I would feel excited to be aliveish but I'm in fact, a bit flat. Healing is tough because it has to be done in small increments. You don't wake up one day "better". The Dr. doesn't say, "Congrats, now you can get on with your life!" The closest I've had is "Congratulations, when you want to have sex you'll need surgery". I suppose that's something?

I went out today and was scared on the escalator. I've had a few crashes. I hobbled up stairs because I refused to take the elevator. I did all that and am still functioning which means I've come leaps and bounds the last few weeks. It makes me realize how rough it's been. You don't tend to see it clearly when you are in the middle of it. The problem is, I want me all back and I want me now.

How did I go from a vibrant 32 to a slow 35? I think I blinked. I miss me. I feel sad for losing me. I want to be the old me(ish) again.

Whoa! Website!

I've been a busy bee. I've been spending a lot of time researching, and playing with some tools for building a website. I plan to make a site where young adults with cancer or chronic illness can read stories/articles from some one who is going through it.

There is just such a lack of resources out there which deal with life, living with cancer, and thriving. We don't just shrivel up and roll over with a cancer diagnosis! And we have issues dammit! We want to get on with our lives and be able to laugh at ourselves and everything. We want to look good bald and not have to apologize if we say the word "cancer".

No more pink ribbons! There will be no pink ribbons on my site or hospital bears etc. etc. I will not be falling into any of the language or culture which fits into the mainstream public perception of cancer. I want to deal with it in a real and honest sense. I feel the voices of people actually going through this are drowned out by our corporate need for monetary exploitation. Our illness is marketed to the tune of billions of $$$ and I want people to ask themselves where they are putting their money when they donate to cancer.

I want people to think. I want them to know they are not alone, and that there is life after cancer.



I've also just purchased baldylocks.com and am waiting for it to be transferred to me! I will be the one and only original! Yay! It will continue to be my blog. I guess Baldylocks is here to stay.

God Help Me

My 14 year old son is on a serious naggathon and has been at it for 5 HOURS. He came home from school and hasn't stopped.

This is why some creatures eat their own young.

Un Fab

I'm feeling Uber unfabulous today but I feel good health wise. My beyond lazy weekend worked, although I seem to have lost some of my spark*. Maybe it was because of my angry post?

Maybe it's because of my 14yr old. Apparently I'm super lame.

Angry post

Yes, last night I posted in anger. I'm just not sure how to get a certain somebody to get the message of "you are not welcome in my life". His actions are passive aggressive and he does things so he looks like a good guy. Manipulating and contacting my friends and family is not leaving someone alone. Trespassing in someones life repeatedly when that person has said "NO" is NOT being a good person in any respect.

I'm at a loss. If I contact him, it means he has "won" because that's what he wants. Why does this have to be a game?

Chemo Girl #3 -Evil Thoughts

...continued from Chemo Girl and Chemo Girl #2



These are the remnants from last nights, "angry post". Now in the light of day, Chemo Girl just seems hateful to Slipper boy, henceforth known as "The Slipper Menace". Chemo Girl's powers are only meant for good....not Evil.

So, the original post is gone and will forever be known as "The Lost Post".

Veggi Tale

This is the vegetable weekend.



No, I'm not going to eat it. I am it. I may blog or I may not blog. It all depends on how much sleeping my body will allow.

I was going to post this lower photo but who knows where it would have sent your little minds after all my recent vagina posts.



You guys are sick.

Baldylocks hits the Big Time

I've been playing with Photoshop lately. All this (forced) down time is allowing me to get my teeth into the world of the computer. I'm trained as a fine artist but I have strong tendencies towards business and design.

My blog has me taking pictures of everything. I'm getting pretty good at it and now I have all these amazing photos, next thing you know...



I have the Baldylocks ad. Now where the heck do I put it?

Promises

Sometimes keeping promises can be difficult.

When I was pregnant with my children and they were born I vowed to be there for them and keep them healthy, loved and safe. I vowed never to leave them and that they shall be the uncontested center of my life until they are grown.

Life has been tough but up until now I have been true to my word. Last year, though, I failed my son.

I have never missed a first word, the first day of school...a birthday. Through hell and high water I have always been there and kept them close. They could always count on me.

Before my diagnosis, I guess I hadn't been myself. My kids were saying, "Hey mom, why don't you go see your friends?" My youngest gave me a 2 for one ticket he had recieved from school for an English tea and told me I should go and take a friend. I was so touched and did as he instructed. I knew he wanted to go with me but it was too expensive. As I sat with my dear friend and enjoyed the time my son had wanted for me I hatched a plan to do an amazing English tea for his 11th birthday.

That day never came, as I was rushed miles away to the hospital. He spent his birthday without me. Truthfully I nearly died (don't ever say I just admitted that, I'll deny it).

I failed my sons because I left them. I was gone completely for 6 months and so much more since then, they even spent the summer with my parents. I can no longer guarantee I will be with them until adulthood. Luckily they are nearly there.



Today we had our English tea. It was slightly less English than I had hoped for but I guess life and promises aren't perfect.

The fact is, I was here and today I finally did it.

Confessions of a Sniper (AKA Trip to the Beach)

So I actually left the confines of my cozy bed and my house today. It was sunny and the neighborhood was still feeling the wrath of the previous nights storm. I truly wasn't looking for trouble, but somehow, trouble always finds me.




I took off my shoes to put my feet in the sand, it was an innocent enough action. Little did I know that the stealth would come in handy today.

As I walked quietly along, I nearly fell into the nest of a waiting red jellyfish. It didn't see me which was lucky because they are highly poisonous and are prone to attack. I left it alone and slipped by without a sound.



As I passed the playground I noticed some strange behavior. Some guy had a small, red contraption which he was putting out to entice crows. The crows were mesmerized and he continued to move it, step back and watch the crows try to open it. I was back in the shadows watching with intrigue. That's right, I like to watch.

I was careful not to be noticed. Unfortunately for him, old habits die hard. When his back was turned, he was sniped. I was trained by the best and I have the grad photos to prove it.



As I headed up the beach I saw a familiar form. It was that damned Sasquatch again. Those hairy buggers are everywhere. This is Canada after all. It was just too easy, so I sniped it too.

If only we could get them to clean up their own damned land mines. Nobody likes a non pooper scooper.



Of course the photo is blurry. Isn't that always the way?

That's when things started to get a little interesting.

The storm had thrown a sail boat up onto shore. That's when my suspicions were confirmed about the idiocy of (some)men. I try to defend them but sometimes there's just no way around it.



They were attempting to drag the ship out of the muck with a large power boat and about 75 meters of regular marine rope. OMFG. That damn thing is going to snap! Of course it did but not after dragging the bow around towards the ocean. My sniping capabilities scored some great shots. I think I may get an art show out of this.

Unfortunately I got cocky and a little lazy. I got caught. Suddenly I found myself stuck in a conversation about what type of camera I had, was told red jellyfish are stingers and that the tide was coming in when it was actually going out. I was pitted in a one sided discussion about how the other men should correctly remove the boat because they were doing it wrong, how I should get a lens cap holder and how my camera is not waterproof. I'll spare you the other details.

Apparently my cover worked. Yeah, I'm just a girl.




Just another day. At least I got my feet in the sand...

Fungi Day

Ikk. Today I feel sluggish and haven't managed to get out of bed. I've tried once or twice but ended up back under my covers. I feel like maybe I could get out of my bed and perhaps I'd feel better if I did.

Then the guilt comes. Maybe I'm lazy?

A storm raged all night and kept me from sleeping. Rain pelted loudly at my windows and the wind roared at my roof. When you're tired and the brain is fuzzy it can keep you from seeing the obvious, like I'm tired because I didn't sleep.

I finally dragged myself out in my backyard to take a photo of some fungus, because that's how I feel. Immobile.



I feel like I've become one with my bed, small roots taking a tight hold on my mattress. I used to walk to the beach every day. I'm sure my feet are suffering from the lack of sand in my toes. I think if I don't go, I might just disappear.

I'll do it tomorrow.

Crazy Hair Day

Today is Crazy Hair Day! Why you ask? Because I said so!

What do you do when you are sporting a new head of hair and you're left alone in your bed all day with nothing to do but play with your web cam? Of course you revert back to being 12 and have a crazy hair model shoot with all your long lost hair accessories! (P.S. make sure to press play on the video at the bottom of the page to get the correct sound effects for this post)

This is me a year and a half ago.



Check me out now!




Yeah Baby!






(don't judge me. you know you do it too)

Adventure of the Super Vagina

So, I'm still here. I didn't perish from the NEWS FROM HELL even though at times I thought I might. I've been dealing with serious stress pains in my chest and nausea, so, pretty much things are as usual.

Since all of you missed accompanying me to my actual appointment I thought I would share. This time I have pictures, as I know my previous Vagina posts disappointed from the lack of visuals.

All the accompanying photos were taken the day of my Gyno visit but are not quite in order as there was some serious foreshadowing going on.

I arrived relaxed and on time to the giant Gyno Building in Vancouver.



I followed my specific tips for dressing for specialist appointments (ie, any appointments which involve backless gowns). I stripped off the outer layers, donned the famous, and always stylish booties.



I mean, these booties.



I was escorted into the exam room and made myself comfortable.



Everything was ready to go down under



and check out my goodies.



Unfortunately, despite everything, this turned into a bit of an awkward situation.



My dear Vagina was again broadcast on the large GynoVision for our viewing pleasure. Photos were taken and I was shown every follicle in detail and congratulated on the healthy pinkness of my skin. I, quote, "get two thumbs up for healing".



After my quick congratulations, I was told when I wanted to have sex again I would need surgery as the "fantastic" healing I've done had caused a tight ring of scar tissue.

Fuck Me. Or not.

Hmmmmm? So do I get one of those designer vaginas everybody is talking about these days? Will I be the first one on the block to get one? Back up Britney Spears! Just wait until I'm strutting my stuff around town.

Really, there's no reason for me to be such a big baby about this.



It's not like I was using it anyway. The most action I've gotten has been with the gynecologists. They may be trained and all, but they're just not doing it for me.

Huge Vagina

I certainly don't have this problem.

Vagina Update -WARNING- too much information

Well, here I am, peeking out of my hole. Thanks everyone for the kind comments. I'm not sure how to write this as I haven't finished mentally processing my gynecologist's news yet, but I'll try.

I was expecting another routine exam where everything would be fine. I've been having a lot of problems with GVH which you can read about on my side bar <-------- if you need to. My brothers stem cells are attacking me but mostly it's under control. One of the places affected is my Vagina. (Vagina gets capitalized because it's important) I've been experiencing what I can only describe as being scalded "down there". It's been red and hurts like a @!#&! This is a chronic problem but I've been hopeful it will heal and my body will get better overall.

The good news is that it has healed a great deal. The bad news is there is a lot of scar tissue and if I ever want to have sex again, I will need surgery. She wouldn't even insert the "woman probe" (sorry, too upset to deal with proper medical terminology) because she couldn't. She said I literally could not have sex if I tried.

Fuck. This is the worst thing that has happened to me in, forever. Correction, I'm taking this harder than anything in recent memory, including being told I had leukemia.

Fuck.

Bad Blogger

I've been neglectful here in blogland.

In the last week and a half I've had 3 Dr./specialist appointments which I've had to travel for. Things were great until my last appointment a couple of days ago.

I've had some very bad news. The cancer is not back, the news is not life threatening, but life altering. Right now I am processing, mourning, playing angry music, playing sad music, sitting in the quiet, crying, hurting and feeling numb in a rotating order. I'm not sure what to say.

I tend to withdraw and curl up into a self isolated, self protective shell when things are bad.


"fall seven times, stand up eight"

Wishing From My Bed

This recovery process is taking forever. I find myself wishing for things in the future and remembering dreams I've had in the past. I ache to do so many things.

My physical state is currently dreary. I'm quite aware that If I were an antelope, the lions would take me down and snack on me first. No Dr. will say if I will recover at all, all they give me are percentages of survival rates. Mine is 61% to live 5 years. After 5 years they assume you probably won't get the cancer back. Hopefully the transplant agrees with you and you live well. Would you put your entire life savings on a lottery ticket if your chances were just over 50% to win? Think about that.

These are a few of my dreams which I want to turn into reality. If you are reading this, I would love to know your dreams. Leave a comment to share.

I wish I could;

Run again -I'd run with the wind (or the wolves, I'm not picky)
Paint -like Gustav Klimt rather than de kooning. If only my hands would stop shaking from my medications.
Be a roller girl -I already have the striped socks.
Dance -dirty dancing preferably, or Salsa, or anything where my body would be able to move.
Travel -to see art in Spain, dance in Brazil, ski in New Zealand, explore the outback in Australia, study in Italy, celebrate the Day of the dead in Mexico.
Do my masters in University -I want to kick some intellectual/academic ass
Earn some $$$ -hello Bill Gates
Fit into my clothes and shoes -like the amazing shrinking woman
Play soccer with my kids
Be in the search and rescue -propel down cliffs, haul people up in helicopters, challenge myself physically in some OTHER way than this
Fall in love
See my grandchildren
See my 80th birthday (or my 60th. I'll be grateful for either one)
Take over the world -goodbye Bill Gates
Recognize myself
Go spelunking -explore the dark caverns of the earth
Inspire others

Be well, forever

The Night of Cricket HELL

I have such a headache. When I was gone in hospital for 6 months, I came back and my mom had let my son buy a turantula. I'm not bothered by it but it stays in my room because my other son is afraid of it (I think that was the original appeal).

Usually I go to sleep with the soothing sounds of crickets chirping. It works better than one of those sounds of nature CD's. (Yes, these crickets are the spiders meal). Well last night was the cricket chirping night FROM HELL. The little critters can be LOUD. There must have been some sort of mutant cricket thing going on in there. I had to drag the turantula aquarium out into another room at some point during the night and I had to take Tylenol! Those things are aggressive!

Beware the crickets.

My Head is Shrinking!

Slowly but surely, I'm losing my pumpkin shaped head! Yay!



I'm so excited! My oncologist lowered my prednisone again! The prednisone causes most of my problems which are lack of sleep, altered mood, severe fatigue and puffiness (this is not a complete symptom list). Most people don't react so harshly to these meds. I just happen to be "special" and tend to get any obscure symptom possible.



For Halloween I put on my favorite wig and tried to look the least puffy possible for this photo. Before I looked like a beach ball with a wig on. Some days my eyes are just dark sockets because of my cheeks. This has spurred comments from others like "What's wrong with your face?" and most recently, "Wow, you ARE puffy aren't you? Do you even recognise yourself when you look in the mirror every morning?" Ummm, no. Thanks for pointing out the obvious and painful.

Despite those comments, I think the worst is when you haven't seen someone in a while and they pretend they can't tell the difference. "Puffy? What puffiness?" Trust me people. This does NOT make me feel better.

I'm starting to look normal ish. I worked out that at the rate I'm currently being tapered, it will take over about 6 months to be off of them. This dosage dropping is changing my life. I no longer feel like zombie mom and am able to get out of my room to interact with my boys.

Happy days are here again because I can squeeze on my boots. The dreaded puffiness is in all the weird places and my shoes and boots haven't been able to fit for a while.



I'm still like a sausage in my coats and it's getting cold so I may just have to go buy another one.

To sum up, I feel so much better. My head is getting clearer, I'm able to leave my house, I'm not accidentally catching things on fire when I cook anymore. I feel amazing. Things are improving. Today is the perfect day!

Day Off

I'm off to Vancouver for my Oncologist appointment.