Speaking of "Bump in the Road..." I hit another one! Oh, man! This entire blog post may count as WTMI (as in WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION!) but I've gotten into this peculiar routine of keeping an online diary and sharing my most personal stories with strangers around the globe, so why break a habit?! Besides, writing is therapy. And the irony is that sometimes life's most unpleasant experiences, our lumps and bumps along the road, make some of the best stories. Besides, how could I write about February and March without mentioning the biggest obstacle I went through, facing so many of my fears/phobias?So here goes...
(It's not pretty.)
(You have been warned...)
She put a little triangle sticker on my breast over where the lump was just to keep track of it for the X-ray. She led me to the machine. My breast was placed on a sort of plastic shelf thing (like a xerox machine?) then another large plastic shelf was lowered until my breast was squished between the two plates. Then she told me to take a deep breath and hold it. I was still shaking but it really wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. It wasn't long before she had X-rays of both breasts and I was done. It was mildly uncomfortable but not what I would consider painful. The sideways squish was my least favourite but it was just for a moment and it was over. Awesome! Woo hoo! No pain. No bruises. I wasn't worried about the ultrasound at all because I'd had a couple while I was pregnant and knew that that would just be some jelly and a wand over my breast. Cakewalk! Also, unlike the pregnancy ultrasound, I wasn't required to drink an inordinate amount of water and hold it in! (That actually WAS painful! I had to pee SO BAD. I was almost in tears.) The relief when it was over and I could run to the bathroom and pee bordered on orgasmic! LOL (I was thrilled that Michelle was a girl and was healthy but I was almost just as happy that it was over and I could finally pee out that 2 litres of water! What a RELIEF!)
Finally it was my turn and I went in. I asked the tech if I'd be able to see the screen (sure it's not quite as cute/heartwarming as seeing your baby on an ultrasound but I thought I might as well steal a glimpse at my lump.) And there it was...amidst the floating white stuff and whatever other substances are in there there was a black grape sized hole. "It's like a grape," I commented. "Well you have a bunch of grapes," the girl remarked. There were a series of smaller lumps here and there. I knew she couldn't really tell me results (that had to come from my doctor) but I was curious if it was normal to have lumps like this. I had read that you can have lumps that come and go with your period etc and that they are harmless. She said it was pretty common. She told me she didn't think I needed to worry which was reassuring. I was told I would have the results within 10 days. Five days later I got a call from my doctor. I was hoping it was with good news -- that everything was fine and I could just go about my life, lumps and all. Unfortunately there was a little more to it than that. She said that the cyst was one thing but what they were more concerned about were the "microcalcifications" around it. Micro sounded like something small and I hoped it was nothing to worry about. Unfortunately that wasn't quite the case. The cells were atypical and growing rapidly so they were worrying enough that she wanted me to have a biopsy. That didn't sound fun. A needle in my breast? Ugh. The doctor said that the worst case scenario would be that I might have to have a "small surgery." I asked if this could all be because of Michelle falling on me and digging her elbow into my breast (by accident) when she was jumping on the bed. Could it be an injury? My sister had "calcifications" in her shoulder from an injury once. Also considering it's a breast, calcifications (like calcium?) sounded like something you would find in milk ducts. I Googled it and got myself somewhat freaked out. I tried not to worry too much. I just wanted the biopsy OVER WITH. I tried calling the hospital to book an appointment but they said it doesn't work that way. They pretty much said "Don't call us, we'll call you." I cried. I felt helpless. I didn't know whether I'd be waiting a matter of days, weeks or months for an appointment. And I was going to be stressed out until it was done. I couldn't even bring myself to utter the "other C word...." I just prayed the cyst would be benign and all would be fine. The doctor said that ironically the size of the lump suggested it wasn't "c" word because it was so big and came from out of nowhere whereas malignant tumors tend to start small and grow slowly rather than popping up, grape size, all of a sudden...
There was a little picture on the wall of a faceless woman holding two babies. The machine blocked part of it so you couldn't completely make it out. The nurse suggested I could focus on that to keep my mind off things. I wanted to say "Well can you hang the picture in a BETTER SPOT then?! Because this torture chamber machine thingy is blocking my view!" I wished it was a happier picture. I almost felt sorry for the woman with no face carrying her babies. Why couldn't it be an ocean scene or a soothing pastoral landscape? I wanted to go to my happy place. Close my eyes and pretend I was at the beach. I tried to take deep breaths. Breathe in for a count of four, hold, breathe out for a count of four. It was hard to breathe between the anxiety and the fact that my chest was locked in a vice. Little. shallow. breaths. Almost hyperventilating. The nurse mentioned breathing and yoga. I told her that I do yoga. "YOU do yoga?" she asked in disbelief. "I know, right?!" I said, "I don't seem very ZEN, do I? I find my zen WHILE I'm doing yoga but then it leaves me again & needless to say I'm NOT FEELING IT RIGHT NOW!" There is nothing zen about having your breast trapped in a machine while waiting for the Marquis de Sade to begin torturing you further. Absolutely nothing!
"We'll have to reschedule for another day," the doctor suggested matter-of-factly.
I almost said "OH HELL NO! Are you out of your friggin mind?! Go through all this AGAIN?! No way Jose!" What I did say was: "NO. Absolutely not! I'm not going through this again. EVER. It's NOW or NEVER! Coming back another day is not going to change anything. I'm not going to magically be a person who doesn't faint at needles next time!" "Well we can't do the procedure if you're fainting," the nurse explained. "I'll try not to faint again!" I offered. The nurse went and got me some cranberry juice. She asked if I'd eaten. I had but not much because I was too nervous and my stomach was upset. I'm borderline anemic so on a nearly empty stomach I'm a bit weak too. The cranberry juice helped a LOT. She gave me a cold cloth for my head, back and wrist. That helped enormously because feeling too hot was almost the worst part of it (that and the sparkly yellow sh$%!) and bringing my body temperature down was half the battle. She suggested we could do the procedure lying down. That sounded much more appealing until I realized how uncomfortable it was to have the machine squishing my breast at that angle. The side squish. Bad times. Being crushed from top and bottom was uncomfortable but manageable. Being squeezed from the sides was full on AWFUL. It was painful. Worse than a needle. I told her this was simply horrible. "Can you endure it for 15 minutes?" she asked. "NO!" I said, "I couldn't endure this for 15 seconds! Let's go back to sitting up! I PROMISE I won't faint again!" She seemed mildly exasperated but we redid everything. Because I had moved they would have to do the freezing again. Luckily I didn't even feel the second needle because most of my breast was already numb from the first freezing. Thank Heaven.
Then one day, at work, I got the call on my cell. Dang. Why did it have to be when I'm AT WORK?! It was the secretary at the doctor's office. "Your doctor wants to speak to you, do you have time to talk to her now?" "Well not really. I'm at work and it's kind of busy but of course I want to talk to her! Will it be quick? Is it good news?" "Well...The doctor really needs to speak to you." That didn't sound good. "Hi," the doctor began, "How are you?" "Well that depends...You tell me." Then she dropped the bomb. She told me that they were "recommending surgery." The floor sort of dropped out from under my feet. That sick hollow feeling in my belly. No. No. No. She had told me that the "worst case scenario" would be a small surgery. So this was actually the WORST CASE SCENARIO coming to pass?! 
I was terrified. I told her that I fainted at the biopsy and that it was one of the worst experiences of my life. She assured me that at least I'd be knocked out for the surgery. I had to get back to work. I sat at my desk like a zombie. Trying to hold back the tears. I wound up telling my co-workers because I just wasn't going to be able to hide it. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Restraint isn't always (ever?) my strong suit! My supervisor suggested I just go home. But then I'd have to face the panic full on. I didn't want to think about it. Just dive into work and don't think about it. I managed to wipe away the tears and get through the rest of the day. Then I went to my sister's place to talk to her. She always helps to make me feel better. I brought Michelle and my Mom as well because Michelle loves visiting with Reggie and we hadn't been there for a visit in a couple of weeks. May did manage to cheer me up (she always makes me laugh!) and she assured me that she would take me to the surgery so I would not be alone. (I had to have someone take me anyway because apparently you're not allowed to drive after.) My doctor referred me to a surgeon who would apparently be calling me to make a consultation appointment.One day I went to get out some grapes from the fridge and found that they were covered in milk. One of the bags of milk had leaked into the fruit & veggie drawer. I've bought hundreds of bags of milk and have never had that happen before. Things go wrong all the time of course, random annoyances. Sometimes I'm able to laugh them off, other times (when I'm having a really bad day) I might actually cry over spilled milk (literally and figuratively). On this particular day as I was rinsing milk off the grapes it hit me -- I had a grape sized lump in my milk ducts. And now I had milk on my grapes. I started to laugh. I looked up "Ok. I get it. Good one!" I decided that there are no coincidences in life or rather that coincidences are God's way of winking at you to make sure you're paying attention. Life is weird. Find a way to laugh at it...
WARNING: Graphic content (I've always wanted to say that.)
When the surgeon's office called they asked me to "Bring your slides..." Slides? Like vacation slides? Not quite. They wanted me to bring a CD of my BREASTS. It's not nearly as sexy as it sounds! (Maybe because I was having the surgery in a different city than the hospital where I had the tests done so the files weren't just forwarded on? Or maybe they always ask you to bring your own slides to surgery appointments? Not sure. It's all new to me.) So anyway, I had to call the hospital, get them to make a CD of the greatest hits from my Ma'am-o-gram, Ultrasound and Biopsy From Hell and then go pick it up to bring with me to the surgeon. Just a weird day all around. It was all so surreal and awkward. Walking into the hospital to the radiology department and asking for my "CD." I have to admit curiosity got the better of me and when I got home I couldn't resist a peak at the "slides." I mean how often am I going to get to see my breasts from the inside? (Hopefully never again!) I put the CD in my laptop. Some of it I wasn't really sure what the what I was looking at. But then some of the slides were quite clearly my breasts though they sort of looked like the moon with craters and whatnot. I sort of wished I had a full body x-ray so I could see my own skeleton. I think that would be kind of cool. Then again once I saw my own skeleton it might haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. Yeah, it's probably better if I don't know what I will look like dead. This whole lump and surgery thing got me thinking about my own mortality more than I felt comfortable with as it is. But I can deal with seeing my moon boobs... As you can see, photoholic that I am I snapped little souvenir shots of the slides. (I tried to save/copy the files to my computer and it wouldn't let me because they weren't just JPEGS but part of a weird program thing. So I just snapped pictures of the screen. Awkward I know. I can't believe I'm sharing these but hey, I've gone this far! Somehow with the nipple cropped out it doesn't seem like my breasts anymore anyway. It's just like looking at the moon. A blue moon. And a scary monster face (the lump seen on the ultrasound...)
Handing the CD over to the secretary at the surgeon's office felt kind of bizarre. There's something sort of vulnerable and random about handing over photos of your body parts to a complete stranger, but hey, you never know what each new day will bring! I wasn't entirely sure how just looking at those slides would be enough for the doctor to perform surgery but they'd no doubt take more x-rays and tests at the hospital before the surgery. I went in with a list of questions for the surgeon. I was afraid and was really looking for reassurance that I was overreacting/worrying needlessly and that everything would be OK. In my fantasy he was going to shake his head in a "there, there" fatherly manner and say something like "Don't you worry. There are some risks with anything but it's a routine procedure and you should be just fine." Yeah, I wish that's what he'd said. Not so much. I told him about my fainting and nervousness and general anxiety about the whole thing. He wasn't exactly comforting. He calmly and unemotionally told me about the procedure and answered my questions matter of factly with some of the worst answers possible -- stoking my worst fears and then some. Now, in fairness, I guess I shouldn't ask the question if I don't want to know the answers. The thing is, I just didn't want BAD answers! (It's like when you have the "talk" with your partner, and you know you're having problems but you need to confront them about the relationship, to know where you stand, and you're really hoping that miraculously they'll give you the answers you want to hear instead of the ones that will crush your very soul... Not that I've been through that for scenario a while. I haven't dated in 5 years. But those conversations are SEARED in my brain. They never went well.)
Some of the surgeon's answers were a relief:1. When would the surgery be? In a couple of weeks (this was good news because I was anxious to get it over with. I didn't want to have to wait for weeks or months) I penned it into my calendar. I would have to see my family doctor for a physical and have a pre-op appointment at the hospital before surgery as well. They really want to be sure you're fit for surgery apparently.
2. How long does the surgery take? About 20 minutes. That didn't seem so bad. You can survive just about anything for 20 minutes. Even a Jillian Michaels' workout! I've done those too.
3. Would I be knocked out? Yes. (Thank God because I definitely didn't want to be awake for it! Give me the works! Send me to the moon. When I had my wisdom teeth out they knocked me out and I had to be carried to the car. Or so they tell me. I was in my 20s then.)
Some answers weren't available:
Why did this happen? What causes ADH? Did I do something wrong? (I tend to think in terms of cause and effect -- Obesity/heart disease, alcohol/liver damage, smoking/cancer. But what causes a grape sized lump to randomly grow in your milk ducts? Was it because I breastfed? (I would still have done it no matter what. As I've said before, Michelle's well-being is more important to me than my own.) Was it my diet? Did I drink too much Coke Zero? If there was something specific that caused it then I could try to prevent it from happening again. Could it be because I had pneumonia for months and coughed so hard I cracked my ribs? Or because Michelle fell on me (elbow into my chest which hurt like a mother?) But the doctor didn't have clear cut answers for me. Sometimes it's your diet or lifestyle or heredity but sometimes sh*% just happens and you really don't know why. I do think however that the common denominator of most diseases and disorders is STRESS and I had just gone through some of the most stressful months of my life. Sleep deprivation (which I'd also been suffering with) doesn't help either. Rest is the way your body restores/repairs itself. If you don't get your sleep then your body can't heal and just breaks down further. Physically and emotionally I was spent. I had been having breakdowns. My cells were having a breakdown too. It was all just too taxing on my system.
This is going to sound silly but I'm rather attached to my breasts... I mean, like most women I tend to be self-critical and can find fault with just about everything on my body -- thinning hair (post-partum alopecia apparently. I have half the hair I used to have. Oh well, Michelle was worth it!), wrinkles (there seem to be new ones every day), big nose (never been a fan of my nose), crooked teeth (couldn't afford braces), pooch on my belly, stretch marks, cellulite, big thighs etc. My feet are sort of ugly but then I think feet in general are ugly. I could go on and on but this blog is too long as it is! Anyway, the point is that my breasts were the one thing (two things?! LOL) that I had no complaints about. They were round, relatively symmetrical and perky considering what they'd been through. While some women stress over chest size (too small/augmentation, too big/reduction) I felt like mine were just right! LOL Even when they changed over the years I was happy with each stage. As a skinny 100 lb teen I was a 32A. While my rail-like appearance was mocked by some neanderthals in school (who called me "flat chested" and "ironing board") I was also complimented by strangers saying how graceful/beautiful I was and asking if I was a model/ballerina (I'd dreamed of being a ballerina when I was little so this was the ultimate compliment to me! And I actually did do some modeling in those days.) As I gained weight in my 20s-30s I went up to 125 lbs and a 34B. While my weight fluctuated in my 30s (130-150 lbs) I pretty much stayed the same bra-wise. Then at 42 after working out hard core (Jillian Michaels etc!) I'd just gotten back to my ideal 125 lbs (which I hadn't been since my 20s) when I became pregnant and gained 70 lbs! Before I knew it I was a 36C. It was almost the first thing people noticed when I was pregnant! My cups ranneth over! The breasts expanded even faster than the belly. I didn't get to keep the big boobs of course. They shrunk as my stomach did when I worked out and lost most of the baby weight. (Breasts are mostly fatty tissue after all, so when you lose weight they tend to go. Female body builders often get breast augmentations because as they become more muscular they tend to lose their feminine curves.) But I was happy the girls were pretty much back to their old 34B selves (and not, as some Moms complained about post-partum, like deflated balloons!) 
Now the idea that my right breast could be irreparably changed/damaged was sort of heartbreaking. Yes on some level I know that who we really are is not physical -- that we are the spirit inside, not the body. Still it's hard not to associate who you are with your physicality. Having your appearance deteriorate with age is tough enough but it happens gradually. To have something happen to you physically and change you drastically in one day (to enter the hospital intact and come out broken) feels like a loss. I didn't want my breasts to change. I couldn't imagine women who had to go through a mastectomy. I thought about how incredibly brave they would have to be. Even this relatively small procedure scared me to death. Now some people would say I was overreacting. I'm not saying that my reactions are everyone's. We're all different. Hospitals/blood/needles/surgery etc is MY phobia. To some people, it's nothing. Everyone has their own fears. I met a woman once terrified of thunderstorms (I love thunderstorms.) Some people are afraid of heights (I don't mind them) or snakes (I like them). There are even people who have a phobia of birds/puppets/pickles/the most random things (for real. They've even done shows on bizarre phobias.) Yes the fear is usually irrational but it doesn't make it less real to you. We all have the fight/flight mechanism and react with fear to certain stimuli. For whatever reason sometimes we attach fear to things that do not actually pose a threat. In my case (and in my defense) I am afraid of things THAT DO ACTUALLY HURT YOU (therefore, not so irrational!) So please don't send me hate mail saying that I'm overreacting! These are MY fears not anyone else's! Maybe you're afraid of things that don't scare me. I've done stand up comedy, sang about my personal life in front of strangers, been the first one on the dance floor in a crowded bar, rested my head on a tiger and climbed a mountain in a dress, so in some respects I'm pretty freaking brave! LOL (Note: the number 1 most common fear/phobia is PUBLIC SPEAKING. It ranks higher than the fear of death! So people would literally rather DIE than get up on stage! And I've had my share of stage time and lived to tell about it! So back off critics of my phobias! LOL)
The bottom line is, I like to be in control. This all felt way beyond my control. I don't know if the surgeon realized just how upset I was by his answers. He was expressionless. I really needed him to say "There, there. Don't worry." But I guess that wouldn't be professional? Then I mentioned (because my Mom kept going on about it) that a couple of family members on her side had died of a blood clot two weeks after surgery. This was especially scary for me because I had a blood clot in my foot over the summer and had problems with circulation. I also spent extended periods of time sitting for work/commuting etc. Again I was hoping he'd say not to worry instead he jotted it down and said "Good thing you told me! We'll make sure to get you blood thinners after." So there WAS a risk I could have a blood clot?! And then, worst of all, the doctor answered a question I hadn't even asked. Something I hadn't even thought of: He told me "After surgery the pathologist will come back with results and we may have to recommend further treatments." Wait, WHAT?! NO NO NO! This was supposed to be the END of it. That's why I was going through the OPERATION! To get RID OF IT! I wanted to yell "What the HELL do you mean FURTHER TREATMENTS?! No way, Jose! I can't do this again! No more biopsies, surgeries, hospitals! NEVER AGAIN!" Instead I just nodded, mute. I was shaken. I left his office like a zombie. He told me to see the secretary who would have an envelope for me with paperwork to bring with me to my appointments.
Along with the paperwork was a prescription for some harsh chemical cleanser that I was to shower with TWICE before my surgery -- once the night before and once the morning of. I guess they want to make sure you're REALLY sterile before they operate? I started to read the instructions which were confusing/somewhat contradictory. At one point it said not to get the cleanser near any orifice (your mouth/vagina etc) but then it said something about washing your genitals with it last? "Umm excuse me. I don't really understand the instructions." She shot me a look like I was from outer space. She couldn't really explain it to me. I showed her the wording and said it didn't make sense. I almost said "Sooooo...Umm...Do I wash my hoo hoo with it or not?" She wasn't much help. She thought I just wash my privates with regular soap and use the detergent on everything else except my face but she couldn't confirm. She probably wanted to say "How the F would I know? I'm just the secretary!" She told me to go to the pharmacy to buy it. It was ridiculous that even the soap I had to use was stressing me out! I imagined it being this harsh acidic substance that would burn my flesh. (I know, right? Possibly overreacting but I tend toward the dramatic. I have sensitive skin and the fact that they called it "detergent" as opposed to "soap" led me to think it wouldn't be gentle.) I went to the pharmacy in a bit of a daze. The "detergent" (because apparently I was human laundry now) was $6 and wasn't covered by my drug plan because it was over the counter.
Once I got into my car the tears started. I drove back to my Mom's place and bawled. I was already stressed about the surgery. Now I felt FAR WORSE. I was worried that something bad would happen in surgery or I wouldn't be the same afterward or have complications. Or get a blood clot or die... Or that I might just go through the whole ordeal and still not be out of the woods and have more weird cells and have to endure more biopsies, surgeries, God knows what?! Not to mention getting needles, being in the hospital, faced with all my phobias and nothing I could do about it. The whole thing was giving me an anxiety attack. The biopsy had been bad enough. I didn't know how I was going to deal with surgery. It was terrifying to me. And of course stress and lack of sleep made me that much more fragile so I was hanging by a thread. I couldn't stop crying. I wound up calling my sister (because she's always the sweet, soothing, sane voice of reason that can somehow calm me down even when my head is spinning.) She told me what I needed to hear. I would be OK. People have lived through worse. And thankfully she was going to go with me the day of surgery so I wouldn't be alone. I would be staying with my sister overnight and then she'd take me to the hospital and stay with me. She'd also keep an eye on me afterward (apparently you're not allowed to be alone even if you wanted to. They don't let you leave the hospital without someone to watch you for 24 hours post-op. May, my guardian angel would be there for me. And somehow, no matter how bad it got, she would make me laugh.) What I really needed was a good rest (which I never seemed to get. My brain doesn't come with an off switch. I think and worry and compile lists of all the things I need to do and think and worry about and it's endless.)
Scared and stressed, I was inspired to write a song, kind of a prayer called "Lord I'm scared." I just wanted to know that I would get through this and be OK. Here is a link to the video:
The following week was my pre-op appointment at the hospital. Generally I'm not a fan of hospitals. I have a phobic dislike of them (along with my phobia of needles/pain/blood etc. They just creep me out. Not my favourite place to be!) The good news was that my surgery was booked at a shiny new hospital which I had heard about and actually been curious to see. It was BEAUTIFUL! It was like an art gallery meets a mall meets an airport. Unfortunately it was HUUUUGE! I heard that there were actually FOUR Tim Hortons inside! (Yes, it's just THAT big. Like a small city!) I only got to see one of the Tim Hortons that day but I did make a mental note to get an iced capp on my way out!The shiny new hospital was impressive. It made the old ordinary hospital in my town look like a dive. It pretty much blew any other hospital out of the water. I can't even imagine what it must have cost. So as much as I was dreading surgery, at least I was going to be having it in style...
There was some rather interesting artwork around in display cases etc and I had a little time so, photoholic nerd that I am, I couldn't resist snapping some pictures. Even as a patient I'm a tourist! Of course on the day of surgery I wouldn't be in the mood for sight-seeing so I figured I'd enjoy the scenery while I wasn't in full-on terror mode.When I see something cute/weird/interesting I literally HAVE to take a picture. It's imperative. Like it physically hurts if I don't. And I always have my camera on me in case of emergency photo ops. So there I was. And some people did look at me a bit strangely but come on! It isn't every day that you get to see a Chihuahua Michael Jackson or a Pope Guinea Pig, vines growing out of an antique typewriter, words spelled entirely out of toothpicks "So worth it!" etc.) Or maybe it is, but I don't get out much and I found it strange.
I finally found where I needed to go and waited in the nicest waiting room ever with glass partitions etched with giant floral photos. I snapped a selfie when no one was looking (yes I'm a total nerd. Don't judge me. This is the Instagram generation! Though I mostly use Twitter myself!) I handed in my paperwork and confirmed all the information about my address etc. I wound up explaining a little about my strange life when the woman commented on the various addresses for home, work, doctor etc. I explained that yes I commute all over hell's half acre because I live in one city, work in another, have my childcare (and doctor and hospital) in another... Some days I drive an hour to drop Michelle off, drive another hour to work, work 12 hours, drive an hour to pick Michelle up, drive another hour back home to take her to school, sleep two hours then pick her up, drive 2 hours, work 12 hours drive 2 hours...Lather, rinse, repeat. Running on less than empty. It's crazy but it's my life for now. All because I'm a control freak and refuse to leave Michelle with a stranger for an entire day an hour away from me. On the plus side at least driving 4 hours a day burns 560 calories! (Yes I'm still counting.) I admit it's far from an ideal situation. I'm managing (or trying to) for now. In the future hopefully I can find a more sustainable option that won't land me in an early grave.
At the pre-op appointment they gave me a prescription for a freezing gel to put on my breast the morning of surgery. I thought that was a great idea and certainly preferable to a needle! Of course they'd still be using a needle but maybe I wouldn't feel it so much with the gel? (That, it would turn out, was unfortunately just wishful thinking.)
I walked around and took a few more photos of the hospital before leaving. There was something vaguely reassuring about seeing the hospital before going there for surgery. It became a less intimidating place. I felt more at home. And I did stop for an iced cappuccino before I left. Had I known how expensive the parking was going to be I may not have lingered so long. $17?! What the?! I didn't even think I was there that long but I found out after that that was the daily max which was a relief because if being there 2 hours cost $17 I figured being there all day for surgery would be like $1 million dollars. (And this is why the hospital is so nice. They GOUGE you for parking! LOL)
Being with May makes me feel safe. My Mom is pessimistic and a bit of a catastrophist (spell check is telling me that's not a word but spell check has never met my mother!) so talking to her (especially about anything medical!) always stresses me out further. In contrast, May always manages to calm me down. And she would be my guardian angel. Staying with me the whole time. My appointment was in the afternoon but I had to be there in the morning. I didn't get much sleep the night before. I couldn't stop thinking/worrying. I managed to survive my shower with the "detergent." The morning arrived and we were on our way. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup. At least that saved some time but I felt a little uneasy since I really hadn't left the house without makeup since I was 13 years old. I asked a nurse at the pre-op appointment why they don't let you wear makeup. They weren't operating on my face! She said it was because they had to tape my eyes shut (creepy AF but whatever) for the surgery and didn't want makeup getting all over. I also had to wear loose clothing so I picked a comfy sweatshirt and sweat pants. I was scared but having May with me helped a lot. I had her to talk to while I was waiting. There was a fair bit of waiting.
We waited in the hallway for a while and then they brought me into the mammogram room. Unfortunately it was a lot more than a mammogram I was having. It was almost like another biopsy. I had to get needles & have wires inserted into my breast. That didn't sound fun. This time at least I was a little more prepared. After flashbacks of the biopsy and the blocked faceless single mom painting on the wall, I even had the foresight to bring a "happy place" picture to stare at while the procedure was being done. I thought they might think I'm crazy but I didn't care. They actually taped my picture up on the machine so I could stare at it. It was a photo of a hammock under palm trees on the beach from the cover of a travel brochure. They had me focus on that. I warned them that I'm a fainter.
It was bad. It was almost like the biopsy all over again. They locked me into the machine in a sideways squish (the worst). It was so tight and hurt so bad it was almost worse than a needle. Then came the needles. The freezing gel didn't seem to do a damn thing. I felt EVERYTHING. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Two very pretty nurses tried to calm me down. They asked me to look at the beautiful beach photo and pretend I was there. They asked if I'd ever been there. No I've never been to Jamaica. I told them about my trip to Samana years ago (the only actual tropical vacation I've ever been on) and how these days I just go to Port Dover because there are palm trees and I can pretend I'm somewhere tropical. Despite the happy place picture and the kind, supportive nurses talking and the attempted mind over matter, I fainted. Everything went sparkly and yellow. I felt so hot. I was sweating. They suggested taking off my boots (I had little short boots on. It was still winter outside after all though we had glimpses of Spring here and there.) Taking my boots and socks off helped more than I can describe. It cooled me down almost instantly. I was so glad when the procedure was done. It was hell. It was almost worse than the biopsy if such a thing is possible. That stupid freezing gel I'd put on my breast that morning didn't do a bloody thing. I felt EVERYTHING all too keenly. At least I survived it. Now I had wires sticking out of my breast. From what I gathered they were marking the spot around the lump that had to be removed? At least the worst was over. I would be asleep for the surgery. So no more of this "being tortured while awake" stuff because frankly it's for the birds!I was relieved to be back with May again. I told her what I'd been through. She winced. I really didn't know it was going to be that bad. Now I was sitting in the hallway again with my boots in my hands. A nurse told May to take them. Then someone took them instead and added them to my bag of property (there was a room where I got undressed from the waist up and left my coat and sweatshirt in a bag with my name on it. I was wearing a hospital bracelet with a bar code on it. I felt sort of strange having a bar code. Like I was just a product to be scanned at the grocery store.)
Next thing I knew I woke up and it was all over!!! What a relief! A nurse asked me if I had any allergies."Sulfa, " I said, "and PAIN. I'm allergic to pain." I was sort of kidding. Not.
They must have taken me seriously though because they prescribed me a hard core narcotic (highly addictive opioid) painkiller -- hydromorphone (a form of morphine). I was grateful for a strong painkiller. I definitely didn't want to feel ANY pain! AT ALL!
Even though I looked like a bag of Hell I couldn't resist the photo op so I had May snap a post-op thumbs up shot of me. I'm smiling but you can't really tell. I look sort of dead and I'm stained with that red soap (after me showering twice in it per instructions they still covered me in detergent themselves apparently!) but I'm so happy and grateful it's over and I survived!
I was ABSOLUTELY STARVING! I couldn't wait to get something to eat back at May's. I had gone the whole day (until dinnertime now) without anything. I wasn't allowed to eat past midnight the night before and I wasn't even allowed to drink anything (not even WATER) past 7 am that morning! This was tough for me. Usually I have a drink with me AT ALL TIMES and I need to eat every couple of hours or I feel weak/faint. So I was beyond starving and thirsty by the time I came out of surgery. They gave me apple juice and a cookie which was like the greatest treat ever and I gobbled it up. (Even though I don't even like apple juice it was a treat when I was SOOO thirsty. And the bland cookies were scrumptious!) Shane was going to be barbecuing steaks. I was so psyched. A nurse warned me that I might be nauseous after the anaesthetic and likely wouldn't feel like anything heavy. She thought I'd want to stick to soup or something light for dinner. I almost said "Oh HELL NO! My brother in law is barbecuing steaks and I am ALL OVER IT!" She obviously underestimated me. I wasn't remotely nauseated. I was soooooooooo HUNGRY!!!
My steak, medium well done, baked potato and caesar salad was a thing of beauty and I had to capture the moment! I can't even describe how happy I was at May's after the surgery. It was like winning the lottery! Hanging out with my best friend, laughing and snapping selfies (silly snaps with Shannon's i-phone as you can see some examples above!) and then having a delicious dinner. It was Heaven! I was also on drugs so I was feeling no pain. Nor did I want to so I kept taking the meds every 4 hours whether I felt pain or not. They were tiny little blue pills. It said to take 1 or 2 every 4-6 hours. I just took 1 because they did seem pretty strong. I felt a bit dizzy/wobbly on them. It was probably good that I wasn't allowed to drive for at least 24 hours and had to take it easy for the week. The side effects mentioned a "high feeling." Yup.
I was grateful to May and Shane for their hospitality. Going to Auntie May's is always one of Michelle's favourite places. It's mine too. I hoped Michelle wouldn't be too upset she had to miss out. I called her to let her know I was OK and would see her soon. I told her we'd visit Auntie May together another time. Mama just needed to recuperate right now. I also told her I wouldn't be able to carry her for a while. If she fell asleep in the car I'd have to wake her and make her walk. I couldn't put a strain on my chest for a few weeks.
It was great staying at May's after the surgery. I wound up staying with my Mom for another day as well. It was a good thing because I was pretty loopy on the drugs and driving for an hour back home would not have been good. I still felt a little buzzed when I did finally make my way home. My Mom was concerned I was going to become addicted to opioids. There was no way I'd let that happen. I didn't want to feel pain but I wasn't going to keep taking them longer than I needed. I weaned myself off the pain killers gradually -- from every 4 hours to every 6, 8, 10, then once a day and finally not at all. I didn't have too many withdrawal effects aside from headaches/irritability (but that may just have been my life too.) Luckily I didn't have too much pain -- more of a discomfort and I just took regular Tylenol to help when it got bad.
The first time I showered after surgery (I was supposed to wait until the end of the week) and was allowed to remove the bandage I fainted. It was pretty ghastly. I was feeling a little weak anyway. It just looked awful and discoloured and was bleeding and didn't seem fit to be uncovered so I put a fresh band-aid on it for a while. I kept checking the scar obsessively to see if it had gotten better or worse. I was relieved when it started to heal. I put Bio-Oil on it just in case because I had some from when I was pregnant (though I didn't use it regularly enough to prevent stretch marks unfortunately) and thought it couldn't hurt. The Bio-Oil was almost like magic. My wound was sort of a raised lump, all puffy and sticking up and after one day of the Bio-Oil it seemed to shrink and go flat! It may have just been a coincidence but I was pretty impressed. The bruising was pretty bad but that didn't worry me as much as the actual scar. I tend to bruise easily.
I was supposed to have a follow up appointment with the surgeon in 10 to 14 days. I called his office and booked the appointment. I was a little nervous after the consultation but really hoping everything would come back OK from pathology.When I walked into his office the surgeon asked "How are you doing?"
"I think I'm OK but you tell me!" I joked.
He smiled. He seemed infinitely friendlier than the first time I had met him and he delivered the news I wanted to hear this time.
"The pathology came back excellent! No cancer. You are cured! No further treatments needed. You just need to have a mammogram in a year."I was THRILLED. Soooo happy and relieved and grateful. I told him that I was pretty anxious before the surgery but so relieved now. He said it was understandable. He asked if I had any questions. I told him actually I was curious to see if I was healing normally... So I showed him my scar. He said that it was "lovely" (I thought that was a bit of a stretch!) and healing quite nicely. The bruising almost seemed to get worse instead of better. He said bruises tend to be black and blue then change to purple, green, yellow. It was at the green and yellow stage. I told him I'd been using Bio-Oil and he said to continue to do so for 6 months to reduce the appearance of the scar. I walked out of his office on Cloud 9. I had been so scared, so worried and now I was so relieved it was over with. And I was still me. I just had this scar which was in a spot that would still be covered by a bikini when Summer came (yes I tried a couple on to be sure!)
I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to hold onto that good feeling of course things kept going wrong and trying to annoy me. I tried to keep my zen. It never seems to last long. It's like when I do yoga -- I feel so balanced and calm while I'm doing it but then life happens to knock me off balance. I get tired, irritated, frustrated. Lack of sleep, daily annoyances (traffic, things going wrong etc. ) Some days I'm able to ward off the negative feelings. I think "No way! Nothing is bringing me down!" but then somehow it does. Being tired most of the time makes everything else more difficult to deal with. And let's face it, life isn't perfect. Something always goes wrong.
Anyway now that all that surgery business is out of the way, here's the rest of what happened in February and March!I have a few "happy places." One of them is the beach. Of course that's out of reach until the Summer (unless I win the lottery and can fly to Hawaii...) Another one is the Butterfly Conservatory -- and the great thing about it is that it's ALWAYS a tropical paradise, year round. So when I want a taste of Summer we can always go in there. I love everything about it. The warm weather, the beautiful tropical plants, the butterflies of course and most of all THE PHOTO OPS! It is photoholic HEAVEN and I always snap pictures like a fiend. I usually dress Michelle and myself for the occasion (like a total nerd). Yes we were both wearing butterflies. And we wound up wearing real butterflies as well... (PHOTO GOLD! LOL)
I can tell that Michelle is losing patience in this photo. I didn't quite get a smile more like a half-hearted smirk but it's still cute and it's not blurry so I'm happy! I take photos with both cameras -- my Nikon and my i-phone because each has advantages. Neither is perfect. The quality on the i-phone isn't the best. Then again my Nikon lens is scratched so it can be tricky too...
It's always pretty crowded at the Conservatory so it can be tricky to set up the timer without getting photobombed but somehow I managed. Set it up, countdown from 10 and hope for the best! It almost looks like we had the place to ourselves (which was far from the case!)
My Mom thinks that I spoil Michelle and take her on too many outings, to too many movies etc. Well she's my only child and I'm going to spoil her. "She won't even remember all this!" my Mom tried to say.
"Yes she will!" I challenged her, "and I have all this photographic evidence to show her all the places I took her! Look what a lucky girl you were! Look at all the fun things we did!"
Spoiled girl that she is, Michelle pretty much gets whatever she asks for (within reason.) I can't give her a pony or a $300 pink car or a trip to Disney World but I can surely take her to the Butterfly Conservatory or the indoor playground when she wants to go! She always has a ball. I enjoy taking photos of her and I try to relax a little while she's running around but I usually wind up semi-hovering and trying to follow her every move just in case...
"OK. That's a keeper!"
I do notice more people taking pictures than ever. It's the cellphone generation. Most people wouldn't carry their camera everywhere in the old days (of course I always did!) but everyone has their phone with a camera in it so there's nothing to stop them from recording every moment of their lives! And sites like Instagram encourage them to do so. (I still use Instagram only rarely because I'm not a big cellphone person... Twitter is my favourite site because I can use it on my computer at home. It just seems to be the most user-friendly and it's become such a habit for me.)
Michelle's school was having a "Math Night." Ordinarily that sounds like the opposite of something I'd want to do but then I thought it might be good to find new ways to incorporate learning numbers through games etc. While Michelle excels with letters and reading (because that's her interest and mine.) She hasn't had as much practice with numbers. Math was never my strong suit. I still got 80% in it in high school but I struggled with it (I remember sitting at the kitchen table in tears with 3 hours worth of math problems to do and wanting to tear my hair out.) So as soon as I didn't have to take it anymore (when it became really fancy and branched out into Calculus etc) I stopped taking it. English, Art and Drama were my favourites.The Math Night was supposed to be divided into kids and adults -- the kids would play math-related games in a classroom while the parents sat and listened to a lecture from a math teacher about how to get your kids to use numbers. Michelle didn't want to leave my side though so she sat with me in the library and listened to the lecture. I did play games with her at home as suggested -- card games like Old Maid, dice games as well as Snakes and Ladders and Trouble -- games that made her count, recognize numbers etc. It's such a cliche that girls don't like math and science. I want Michelle to be well-rounded and encourage her to learn everything but at the same time she does lean toward art and reading/writing (as I did.)
Michelle LOVES art and I adore her artwork. My favourites are always her portraits of us and her notes -- I love you Mama. Though I don't have a man in my life I knew that I could count on Michelle to give me Valentines. She made me this sweet portrait of us with insanely big hair (I'm not sure why we always end up looking like Rapunzel. I wish I had half this much hair!)Her teacher(s) commented on Michelle's artwork, her reading and writing skills. They also said what a sweet, kind, helpful girl she is with the other kids. Though they don't call it a "report card" in junior kindergarten I did get a progress report on how she's doing and was proud to hear that she's doing very well. Ironically the day I got her report card I got one as well at work! I hadn't had a performance appraisal in years and then all of a sudden I got one the same day as Michelle's. Luckily mine was overwhelmingly positive as well. It was nice to hear, especially since I'd been struggling lately working so many more hours and dealing with my insane commute etc. It's not often that you hear "You're doing a good job," so once in a while reassurance is nice.
Yes Michelle was my Valentine. I spoiled her as usual with chocolates and stuffies and a few toys. I can't resist. She's always so appreciative of everything and it's fun buying things for her. I love to make her happy. I think part of it is also my guilt for all the things I can't give her -- a father, siblings etc. My guilt at having to leave her when I go to work (now much more often with my new schedule...) I think it's a Mom thing to just feel guilty that no matter what you do, it's not enough. Or maybe it's a woman thing. Or maybe it's just my thing. But I want to give Michelle the world and of course I can't. So I do what I can.
As a treat I ordered a heart shaped pizza. I love Pizza! Sure he's a little cheesy but he's hot and delicious and I'm always happy when he shows up at my door! That was my Valentine's gift to myself! LOL
Sh#$ happens. You just never know what/when it will happen. One day I went to check the thermostat because the house seemed a little chillier than I thought it should be. Sure enough it was lower than I had set it. WTF?! I checked in the basement. It sounded like the furnace was trying to go but heat wasn't coming out. I tried turning it off and on again (because as I said before this is the extent of my technical abilities!) Tried flipping the switch. No go. Then I noticed a light flashing on the furnace. Something was wrong. "You have GOT to be kidding me?!" I called the repair place that had JUST FIXED MY FRIGGIN FURNACE in January. They said to check with my gas company. So I called Union Gas. It turns out someone accidentally cut a main gas line (?!) and 500 homes were affected. They would be going door to door to turn the gas back on but understandably that would take some time. I was glad at least it wasn't a REALLY cold day so we weren't freezing (though I did still have the space heater from when the furnace broke (on one of the coldest weekends of the winter). I called my Mom and my sister. They couldn't believe it. This could only happen to me (and 499 other people in my neighbourhood!) When a man showed up at my door I'd been expecting him and gladly let him in to restore heat to my home. He said he'd been called out from out of town to meet the demand. 
Toys R Us often has crafts and activities for kids on Saturday mornings. We usually can't get out of the house early enough on the weekend (it's hard enough getting out in time for school during the week) to make it but sometimes we do. They were having a "Troll" craft day and Michelle was in a real "Trolls" phase (we got the movie and it became her new favourite. She wanted to watch it every single day. Sometimes twice a day. She also wanted to pretend she was Poppy and I had to pretend to be Branch -- role playing is something Michelle loves and she almost CONSTANTLY asks me to act as her favourite movie characters -- usually MALE. For a long time I had to be Dracula from Hotel Transylvania which I hated because she'd call me Daddy (which makes my teeth itch. I finally had to tell her I don't like hearing that. That I'm her Mama & I don't want to be called Daddy.) I also told her sometimes I just want to be myself for a minute! (Though one time I told her that she literally counted to 60 and asked me again "How about now Mama?")
The role playing isn't my favourite game. It's probably my least favourite. When I'm exhausted (basically most of the time!) the last thing I want to do is summon the energy to act out a character (usually male). At least Branch from Trolls was on the grumpier side so I could somewhat relate to him!I prefer playing games, doing puzzles together, drawing, dressing up, reading together etc. And when the weather is nice I love going to the park. So does Michelle. Luckily once in a while, even in February we got lucky and had a nice day where we could get some fresh air and sunshine for a change. When you've been cooped up for so long over the dark cold bleak winter season, this is quite a treat!
Another nice day, another trip to the park...I thought once Michelle learned to swing on her own that I'd be off the hook but she still wants me to push her. Sometimes my arms and back are aching but I still do it (it must be a workout at least -- I should check how many calories it actually burns.) At least I do get to relax a little when she runs around and goes on the slide. I sit on the bench and watch her. Sitting in the sunshine watching my girl laugh and play is the highlight of my life! It's one of the main reasons I love going to the beach in the Summer. Michelle misses it too. Even in the dead of winter she was asking about going to the beach. I told her not until the weather is warm. Maybe late May if we're lucky? You just never know. In late May they bring the palm trees back to our favourite beach... Something to look forward to on those cold grey winter days.
Before we knew it, it was March.
It's all sunshine and rainbows in Michelle's world. I often see the clouds rather than the rainbows but you have to look for the positive even on the darkest days. At least now that I was working more I had benefits. I got some new contacts and a new pair of glasses. I went for a bit of a funkier pair and they became my new favourite glasses (I normally don't wear glasses in photos but I made an exception as you can see above!) I did my taxes and was pleased that I was getting a refund back at least. Every bit helps. While everyone else does their taxes online I'm old school and do them on paper. It's good to use math skills once in a while I figure. It's mental exercise. Plus I'm a dinosaur/creature of habit and that's just what I'm used to. My taxes are fairly simple and I always just use the year before's as a guide.
Sometimes when I'm really lucky I get to snap a selfie with BOTH my girls and everyone's actually looking and smiling...well maybe not Ali but close enough! I love Michelle's smile here! She was actually laughing at Ali. That's the one thing I like about the cellphone camera. You can actually see what you're taking on the screen. My Mom mocks me "Do you HAVE to take a picture EVERY DAY!"
The movie did not disappoint. It was beautiful, touching, cute and funny. It was a perfect example of why I love the movies -- you get swept up into this fantasy world and for a couple of hours escape your own life. We both loved it. And of course it made Michelle want to be a ballerina even more than usual.
Michelle wanted to dress up as a princess/ballerina and dance. She asked me if she could take ballet lessons. I told her that I would try. With my strange schedule it would be tricky (it's different every week so there's no day that works well, she'd inevitably end up missing classes.) I also worry about the cost. I want to encourage Michelle to live out her dreams. I wanted to take ballet (and piano lessons) when I was little but my Mom always said no we couldn't afford it. I want to make Michelle happy no matter what but it will be a challenge for a number of reasons. I will have to research and find out if you can take lessons every other week or take a few lessons just to try it or see how it works. I don't want to invest a huge amount of money only to find that she will miss most of the classes or find she doesn't like it anyway. My Mom thought she was too young for lessons anyway. I told my Mom that when it comes to ballet 4 years is actually the right age. You have to start young while you still have your flexibility.
Michelle loves to be the centre of attention. With her expressiveness and flair for the dramatic I can imagine her in show business -- as an actress, dancer, singer etc. Unfortunately I know it's a tough business. I wouldn't want to discourage her but my practical side wants to at least warn her to have a backup plan. For myself, I made a half-hearted (or half-a$$ed!) attempt to live out my dreams but I was never willing to risk it all. I always had a back-up plan, always had a regular job. I was too practical to be the true starving artist. I wanted to be an actress but I didn't move to L.A. (I got a local agent and landed a few modeling gigs/TV commercials etc but didn't get my "big break" and gave up after a year.) I wrote and played music, did some local shows, put out a CD (which got a great review in the paper!) helped set a Guinness World Record (and got my photo on the front of the paper) but let that dream go too when life changed. I painted hundreds of canvases, had a few art shows, sold a few paintings but now rarely pick up a brush. I sent poems out to publishers, had a few published (and even had one reviewed in the National Post!) but then stopped sending anything out. I started a children's book and a novel last year but then I got sick and stopped working on it and now it's hard to find the time/energy. The irony of being an artist is that your sensitivity is what impels you to create to begin with but you lack the thick skin required to be in the toughest career there is. You put your soul out there only to risk rejection (which is almost a guarantee -- any writer, artist or actor will tell you they faced countless rejections and tough times before their big break -- if it ever comes.) It's tough to keep pushing yourself. And when life happens you can tell yourself it's just too hard and you need a real job to pay the bills... But I'm rambling and this is supposed to be about Michelle. The point is I want her to go after her dreams but I don't want her to face rejection and heartbreak. I want her to live her life but I don't want her to get hurt (and living life pretty much guarantees getting hurt... That's the tricky part.)
Michelle wanted to do a portrait of her unicorn, dragon and ponies. Sometimes she'll ask me for help -- ask me to draw something and then she'll look at my drawing rather than the actual object itself. It's easier to draw from a 2D reference rather than 3D. Usually when Michelle copies my pictures I like hers far better than mine. She worries that she's not as good an artist as I am but I remind her that I am 10 times her age! She's only 4 years old and for her age, her artwork is awesome. I love the way that she interprets things. Every artist has their own style. I love her charming, whimsical version of the world.
Then one day Michelle surprised me by doing a "Math Book." She had a series of math problems (addition) with the answers. I was impressed that she wanted to do that on her own and had the right answers. My attraction was always to words rather than numbers. Though I still got good grades in high school math, I struggled with it. It didn't come naturally to me and I hated it. It's such a stereotype that girls don't like math. I want Michelle to be well-rounded and to excel in everything.
Of course we wore green for St. Patrick's Day! Well I did anyway. Partly because I'm Irish and mostly because I'm just a nerd and dressing according to theme is a must! Especially for photos (and yes, there are always photos!) I didn't have anything green to put on Michelle but she had a green clover beanie bear. We also had a little leprechaun hat for Ali (which she wore for about 30 seconds... long enough to snap these photos!) Michelle instead was wearing a Belle dress for the occasion because we were going to see Beauty and the Beast (the live action version.) We were both psyched for it. It's always been one of my favourite animated Disney movies and I couldn't wait to see how they would reinvent it with real people. From the commercials it looked incredible and pretty faithful to the original but with a little extra. It was also going to be in 3D!
The movie was EXTRAORDINARY! My expectations were high and they were surpassed! It was beautiful, breathtaking, funny, sweet, just amazing. I also loved how they translated the character of Le Fou, Gaston's fawning friend. They made him gay and it made so much sense. Josh Gad was BRILLIANT. I'm used to just hearing his voice in Disney films (most famously as Olaf in Frozen) so it was awesome to see his face and he really stole the show! Everyone brought their character to life so spectacularly. Michelle loved it too. I'm glad that she can appreciate movies with REAL PEOPLE now. When she was younger it had to be animated or she wasn't having it. The first time I took her to the movies was to the live action Cinderella and it didn't go well. She has since watched it at home and loves it. Lately she has watched movies like "Aquamarine" (a couple of teen girls meet a mermaid,) "Mr Popper's Penguins," "Mary Poppins" and "Nine Lives" and thoroughly enjoys them, whereas before it had to be animated or she wouldn't give it a chance.
Michelle LOVES dressing up. It's the Princess in her. So every special occasion I put her in a dress. She always feels like the Belle of the ball. I like dressing up now and then too but I don't go to too many balls... It was my cousin Dan's birthday and we were heading to Auntie May's for a visit (which is ALWAYS a ball for both of us!) Michelle gets so excited when we're going to May's but especially when the whole gang is going to be there!And we are a BIG GANG! I always insist on getting a group photo. Mike doesn't always make it to family events because he has to come from a lot farther away. Most of us are in the GTA-ish. I love this picture of the group. I manage to sneak in there at the last second after I press the timer and count down from 10. You never know how it will turn out -- if everyone will be looking/smiling etc but this one worked out pretty well I think.
I always have to take a second one too just to be sure (in case the first one didn't turn out.)
Most of the time I feel like I'm on my own with Michelle and somewhat isolated where I live so it's good to get together with the whole family and be reminded that I do have a big support network when I need them. I just wish I lived closer to them. Maybe one day...
May and I had some fun with silly snaps on Shannon's i-phone. May tends to be critical of herself and doesn't like herself in photos. I wanted to get a nice picture of the two of us since she is my guardian angel and was going to be looking after me after my surgery. We decided this was the nicest one with the flowers, though the one with May as a cop and me as a robber is a keeper as well! LOLMay didn't mind the picture of her as a goth. Somehow the goth look suits just about anyone! I used to be a goth but I never had a nose ring. I just wore nothing but black for about 10 years. I still like black though I have branched out to other colours. Even pink now and then...
Because Michelle loves dressing up I thought it would be fun for us to go shopping and try on some dresses together. I didn't wind up getting anything for myself but I couldn't resist getting one for Michelle. She was in her glory trying on dresses with Mama. Yes we are girlie girls! I am SO grateful that I had a girl! Trying on dresses, playing with makeup, going to see butterflies, playing with dolls. Yeah. I mean don't get me wrong I would have loved a little boy too and I would have done my best to feign interest in sports and cars and dinosaurs (incidentally Michelle does like these things too! Her preference just leans toward the more feminine things) but it is so much more fun getting to share things with her that I love as well. It's nice having a buddy to go shopping with, to the movies with, to have tea parties with. And to be a Princess with. Yes I'm a bit of a Princess at heart too!
Really you can never have enough sunshine and rainbows. Michelle has had the pleasure of seeing a few actual rainbows so far when we've been out. She was also thrilled to have a rainbow in our kitchen (as the sun shone through our clear kitchen chairs and created a spectrum on the floor.)I love that the sun, rainbow and flowers are all smiling. I used to draw smiles on everything as a kid too. Back when I was innocent and thought the world was magical. Before I became jaded, disillusioned and heartbroken. Before I discovered the darkness of reality. I still try to see the bright side. Some days it's harder than others. Having Michelle around is a good reminder. If I can see the world through her eyes just a little bit, borrow a fraction of her joy, I'll be doing OK...
Another trip to the indoor playground, because Michelle gets whatever she wants (within reason.) This time I sat in a different spot and discovered there was a wall of funhouse mirrors and things that I didn't even know about. So of course I had to snap a selfie of us there. It even turned out, sort of. I'll have to take Michelle to a funhouse someday, at the Ex or something. I think the Ex might be a bit overwhelming. Maybe when she's a little older. I used to love Canada's Wonderland when I was younger too (I used to get Season's Passes) but it would be a lot tougher with Michelle. She wouldn't have the patience for those lines (you wait for an hour to go on a ride that lasts 1 minute, tops.) Also it's so crowded and so expensive. And she wouldn't be able to go on most of the rides anyway. Certainly not the scary rollercoasters that I used to love. (The Bat was my favourite. The Skyrider was cool too. I haven't been in years. They probably have all sorts of new ones I haven't even heard of.) Again, maybe I'll try it sometime when she's a bit older. For now there are easier/cheaper ways to entertain her.
My Mom mocks me for my photoholic ways but I could mock her for her shopoholic ways (then again I love shopping too.) Everyone has something -- some addiction/obsession. Mine is photography. I could do a lot worse. I don't drink, smoke, do drugs. I don't have sex. I've never committed a crime. I just take too many pictures. Let me have this!
I glanced out the window, curious how many neighbours turned their lights out. Some still had the house all lit up inside and out. Maybe they didn't know. Or maybe they're afraid of the dark...
Michelle's class was having a Career Day/Career Week where they invited parents to come in and talk to the class about their jobs. Ordinarily I wouldn't have considered it but I thought it would be something to look forward to and get my mind off surgery so I agreed. (Also the date was to be after my surgery so it was my superstitious way of guaranteeing my survival! Because I had to live to speak to the class, right?!) I had to talk for half an hour. That sounded like a lot but I wrote a speech and found that I actually had a lot to say. It was cool because even though I've been in my job for more than a decade, writing about it for four year olds made me look at it in a different way. Instead of taking it for granted, finding it stressful etc I started to appreciate it. Seeing the job through fresh eyes (a child's eyes) helped me to realize how lucky I am to have such a cool job, an important job where I get to help people and where every day is different (without saying here what I do because I'm careful never to mention specifics on Twitter or here about where I work etc. I am not an ambassador for the organization. This is my own personal site. Also I reveal too much about myself as it is so I have to keep some measure of anonymity by not giving specifics about where I live, work etc.) Although it can be stressful, it can also be exciting and rewarding. It's certainly not your run of the mill Monday to Friday 9 to 5 job! And if it wasn't for the job I wouldn't have the home and the life that I have. If I'd been somewhere else my path would have been completely different. I would have met different people, been led in different directions. I wouldn't have wound up here, wound up with Michelle. Your life is a tapestry. To pull out any part of it would unravel all of it. And I'm grateful for all of it. Even the rough parts. It wasn't an easy journey but it was a great one and I wouldn't trade any of it. 
When the day arrived for me to speak to the class, I was a little nervous but it went REALLY WELL! The kids were great. They were interested, they interacted, asked questions. I sat on the floor with them to be more informal and because it made me feel more comfortable too. Michelle sat next to me and she was so proud. I even made a little booklet for the kids and gave them some stickers, pencils etc that my boss gave me from work. It was a great day! Afterwards an adorable girl came up to thank me for my presentation. The teacher said that particular student is ordinarily very shy and it took a lot of courage for her to come up to me so I was very moved! Sweetest thing ever. So glad I agreed to do Career Day! Sometimes stepping outside your comfort zone pays off! I was also very grateful to have survived surgery. There was one embarassing moment when I first walked into the class however because a boy said "Hey want to see my boo-boo?!" and showed me his scar. I told him I had a scar but wasn't going to show him and then Michelle announced (loud enough for half the class to hear!) "Mama had an operation on her CHEST!" The teacher quietly told Michelle "Umm...that's private." Oh well, they're kids. I'm used to Michelle yelling embarassing things. In the summer she yelled "Mama DO YOU HAVE DIARRHEA?!" while I was in a stall getting changed at the water park. To which I could only reply "No. But thanks for asking at the top of your lungs." That's my girl! She has also asked "Are you on your PERIOD?!" while we're at Walmart. I mostly just hope no one is listening to her.
Michelle loves writing now. She's even started writing songs. I can't believe some of the things she comes up with. It's so cute and funny! I absolutely LOVE her creative spellings! Her phonics are excellent. Mind you I will correct her spelling but I like to encourage her to keep trying. One line blew me away -- "you gave me the paprkut." At 4 years old, the only pain that she has experienced was getting a paper cut once so she uses that as a metaphor for the pain of heartbreak and it's brilliant! She amazes me every day with the things she will say, sing, write, draw. My girl is a character! She says she wants to be a famous songwriter. She might actually do it. I may have written a thousand songs but she has one thing that I never really had -- confidence. My girl believes in herself and she won't give up. I tell her she can do anything that she wants. She just has to decide what that is. The world is her oyster. I was always too afraid to really try...
A nice day for a walk in the park... We take them when we can get them!
I couldn't remember if the groundhog saw his shadow or didn't see his shadow (or which one meant more winter and which one meant less!) I was just hoping Spring was coming sooner than later! March is sort of the start of Spring but you just never know which way it will go. Some days people are in shorts (which is kind of jumping the gun) other days people are in winter jackets. Or sometimes on the same day you can find both because people have no idea what to do. I aim for somewhere in between. But we were grateful for the sunny days that weren't too cold and we made the most of them.
And then it was Uncle Chris' birthday! He didn't want to make much of a fuss so we just went to my Mom's on his actual birthday during the week. Michelle loves her Uncle Chris. He is great with kids even though he doesn't plan on having any. (I didn't exactly plan to either but Michelle turned out to be the best surprise of my life! And everyone was right when they told me that kids change your life for the better in ways you never imagined. You don't fully understand what love is until you have a child.)
"At least you're never bored," my Mom said to me one day when I was complaining about my insanely hectic schedule and how exhausted/drained I felt most of the time. "No. I'm never bored," I agreed. "Boredom is a luxury. I would LOVE to be bored! Never happens. Too much to do!" It's a good thing that I don't have a social life because I don't have the time or the energy for one anyway. Free time is non-existent. I'm either working or taking care of Michelle or doing housework, running errands etc. I watch maybe two TV shows at any period of time (Bachelor franchise, Survivor, Dancing with the Stars...) I go on Twitter to check in with the world. And that's pretty much it. I was working on a children's book and a novel but that pretty much got shelved when I got sick with pneumonia. Then I started working full time 16 hour days and when I actually have a day off, there's so much to do I never seem to find time. And yet, you could argue, I find time to work on this blog. But this is a labour of love and I do a bit at a time here and there when I have a minute. I don't know why I feel compelled to do it, but I do. And it is time consuming putting together all the photos and the text. But it's my way of venting and it (almost) keeps me sane! I do want to finish the children's book I was working on last year (back when I had more free time and before I got sick.) Part of the reason I procrastinate is of course fear of failure -- because if I actually take the time to write and illustrate it and send it to publishers and it's rejected, I'll be devastated. Easier not to try. Easier to tell myself I'm too busy. One of my cousins wrote a novel and put it in a drawer and never sent it anywhere. I have thousands of poems I've never sent anywhere (even after having a few poems published, the fear of rejection looms large. And for the 4 that I've had published, there were 96 that weren't. At the time the guy I was dating said he'd give me a dollar for every rejection letter so I started collecting them. After 50 I got my first acceptance. In retrospect it was very kind of him to push me/light a fire under me. I miss that. Having someone in my corner. Now there's just me and it's easier just not to try...I don't have time is such a good excuse, especially when it's true. But I'm rambling and this blog is too long as it is! I don't have time for this either. But if you're reading this then I eventually did hit Publish! Please excuse the typos if I missed any!)
Over the winter, out of the blue, two old friends from my past contacted me online and wanted to get together. It was so nice to hear from them but the timing never seemed to be right -- I was sick with pneumonia for months then the breast business (surgery etc) happened and this year I've been way more busy working so many more hours and am only home a day or two at a time here and there. It's tough. I would love to get together for lunch sometime and catch up! The thing is, if they don't reach out to me again, it probably won't happen. I tend to shy away from social interaction. Ironically I have over 9000 followers on Twitter but in real life, aside from my immediate family, I don't feel comfortable with too many people. And if I'm honest I'm not usually the one to reach out (out of shyness/fear of rejection/procrastination etc.) So if they don't contact me again, it probably won't happen. But I hope they do because it would be nice to talk to a grown up again face to face (aside from my family!) If you're reading this, guys -- the pneumonia is gone, the lump is out, Spring is here, all is relatively well and I'm available! LOLSo please EMAIL ME or call! Let's do lunch! :)
Many months ago a couple of other Moms from Michelle's school had discussed the possibility of getting together for play dates with the kids but then I got sick and there was never a good time and I pretty much avoided other parents when picking Michelle up from school. They may not have realized being sick was a large part of my being anti-social (though I can be anti-social/solitary by nature...) And now I just feel too awkward to even try to speak to them again so if they don't approach me...
I do occasionally miss having friends/a social life of some sort. And sometimes, admittedly, I do miss having a relationship, having an adult to share things with, a partner to help with things so I don't feel so completely alone/overwhelmed. Maybe someday. Though it seems pretty impossible at this point. Unless Mr. Wonderful just happened to appear out of thin air. Which is doubtful. I've met a lot of Mr. Horribles in my time. And I would be so cautious now. I honestly don't know how I'd trust someone now. It's different than when I used to date. I used to throw caution to the wind when there was just me to worry about but I am VERY protective of Michelle. How could I allow someone into our lives? I couldn't risk it. He'd have to be an extraordinary man. He'd have to be Jesus-Superman to be a father for my little girl. Yeah, so I'm just flying solo for now.
On bad days -- sleep deprived, exhausted, irritable, running on less than empty, working and commuting long hours, taking care of my child, my home and everything on my own without help and without a break -- I wonder how I'll get through! Defeated, depleted, it feels like the weight of the world on my shoulders, that I give all that I have and there's nothing left for me, no time to take a breath. But on good days I think of how truly blessed and grateful I am: I have an amazing little girl who is the light and the love of my life, a wonderful supportive family and the best sister/best friend anyone could have -- she always makes me laugh! I am relatively healthy, relatively secure with a nice home in a safe neighbourhood and a good job where I get to help people and every day is a new adventure. Luckily there are more good days than bad! And the truth is that time flies, even on the bad days! February and March were gone in the blink of an eye, even with all that I went through. Though it's rough going at the time, there is a reward to facing fears and overcoming challenges. You get to look back with relief and gratitude and say "I got through it!" Though I'm not a fan of adversity (if I had my way life would be perfect and nothing would ever go wrong -- but this doesn't seem to be an option!) it can have some rewards: increasing your strength, confidence and sense of gratitude. Yes the cliche is true -- what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and it makes you appreciate what you have. Facing your greatest fears and surviving makes you feel like one tough mother!
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