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Posted by zoom! on November 2, 2009, at 9:36 am |
I started this weekend with a Friday-night MRI at the Civic. I got the ‘quiet’ machine this time. They have one noisy old clanger (I got that one the first time) and one more subdued, newer machine. It’s still noisy, but at least it’s not unbelievably noisy. I was more than eager to get out when it was over, but interestingly, the headache that had been pounding my skull for two days got sucked out of my head by the giant magnet. Or something.
They inject a dye during the MRI, but they can’t use my right arm anymore for IVs and blood-taking, because my nodes have been removed on that side, so there’s a risk of lymphedema. I’ve always been a bit of a challenge for nurses and phlebotomists, but now it’s getting ridiculous. My left arm has clever, skittish veins that hide when they see a needle, and retreat and collapse when poked. I got poked five times on Friday night – four times by a technician, and once by an ER nurse who was eventually summoned to deal with me, and also to deal with the woman next to me who was having similar problems, only hers were compounded by a needle phobia.
The MRI took over two hours from beginning to end, which cut deeply into our plans for the evening. We ended up just doing drive-throughs at both Octopus Books’ 40th birthday party and Raw Sugar’s first birthday party. By then we were famished and we went to the highly recommended 24-hour Elgin Street Diner for a late-night snack.
Saturday morning we went to an art show (Art Expo) which was very good. In the afternoon I had my complimentary facial at Oresta’s, which left me feeling almost woozy with relaxation.
Saturday night we went to a Halloween party.
Normally I don’t do Halloween parties. I can’t get myself together for it. It’s too hard. But the stars were aligned this year. I found out that my favourite band in the whole world, Astronaut Love Triangle, was going to be performing at this party. Then, David Scrimshaw posted something soothing about Halloween party costumes. Then, with the pressure reduced, my sleeping brain actually came up with a costume idea.
 Interactive collaborative work of art in progress My costume was a sandwich board of two blank canvases. GC wore a beret and an artist’s smock with pockets full of paintbrushes and magic markers. I was an interactive and collaborative work of art in progress. Other party guests were invited to use GC’s tools to work on me, and many of them did.
The extra added bonus is that I now have two pieces of art to hang on my walls, created by beatniks, cowgirls, cabaret dancers, nuns, sexpots, variations of the swine flu and various other assorted creatures.
 The party had everything you could possibly want in a party: interesting guests, dancing, food, wine, excellent live music performed by heavily made up almost-naked people, and Astronaut Love Triangle, amplified! They only performed four pieces, and I wanted much, much more, but they were brilliant as always and the crowd loved them.
We couldn’t stay late because Nanowrimo was starting at midnight and we had novels to write. I wrote just over 3,000 words on Day 1. I’m much happier with the quantity than the quality, but that’s about what I expected. (What I didn’t expect was for the book to completely ignore its outline and go off on a tangent of its own. I don’t know whether to try to rein it back in or to follow its lead.)
Posted by zoom! on October 30, 2009, at 4:11 pm |
 Zoom, moments before the last treatment I had my last breast cancer treatment today! Sure, there’ll be regular imaging tests (starting tonight, actually, with an MRI), and follow-up appointments for years to come, but I am now officially DONE.
I know I said a couple of months ago that the oncologist told me I could start referring to my cancer in the past tense, since radiation is aimed not at treating cancer but at preventing a recurrence. So officially I’ve been ‘over’ cancer for awhile. But it’s hard to feel like you don’t have cancer when you’re having daily cancer treatments. You know what I mean?
Now I feel it. I feel like I can begin to put cancer in the past. And I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to say that.
 Radiation machine #18, and the little table I lay on while being radiated “How are you going to celebrate?” asked one of the radiation technicians.
“I’m going to scrub all the green magic marker off my breast,” I said. The technicians have been calling out numbers (22.2, 88, 8.5, and 8.7) and scribbling on my breast for a month now, and asking me not to wash it off. (By the way, if you ever have to have these treatments, wear a cheap disposable bra for the whole month, since it’s going to end up permanently stained a splotchy green.)
“Oh no,” she said, “Your breast tissue is still very tender, and you mustn’t scrub it. Let it wear off naturally.”
 The view from the table: Ceiling tiles painted by one of the radiation technologists Apparently radiation symptoms will continue to intensify for two more weeks, and then my tissue will start to heal rapidly. I’ve been lucky though – I didn’t get any burns. My skin held up well to the challenge. Yay skin.
After the final treatment, GC whisked me off to Second Cup to celebrate with a cranberry-apple muffin, and then to Chances R for the breakfast special. We reminisced about the whole thing (cancer – not breakfast).
Tomorrow – this is so exciting – I’m celebrating the end of cancer treatments with a free facial at Oresta’s Organic Skincare Confectionery! Remember my one and only facial in November 2008? That was at Oresta’s. A couple of days ago I read on Laurie Kingston’s blog that Oresta’s is offering complimentary facials to women with breast cancer.
Oresta wanted to do something for women with breast cancer, while avoiding the whole pinkwashing thing. Ultimately she decided to offer free facials to women with breast cancer. And I think it’s lovely. There’s plenty of unpleasantness associated with cancer, so when a company offers something pleasurable directly to affected women, it’s wonderful, and very much appreciated.
I’m going to keep celebrating for a few more days too. Tonight, after my MRI, I’m celebrating Octopus Book’s 40th birthday at the Carleton Tavern and Raw Sugar’s first birthday at Raw Sugar. Both are open to the public and free if you’re looking for something fun to do.
Posted by zoom! on October 29, 2009, at 2:41 pm |
Last night GC and I attended the National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo) kick-off event, which was at the Yang Sheng restaurant at the corner of Somerset and Bronson.
My mother always said if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all, so I’m not going to say anything at all about the food at the Yang Sheng. (Actually that was Bambi’s mother who said that. My mother used to say “By the time kids are fit to live with, they’re living with somebody else.”)
There are close to 100,000 people registered for Nanowrimo this year, and we’re each going to try to write the first draft of a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. If you’d like to join, you can sign up here. (Add me as a writing buddy if you want – I’m registered as zoom.)
People have been asking me questions about it, so I’ll do a little Q&A here.
Q. Are there prizes for best novel?
A. No.
Q. How do you win?
A. By writing 50,000 words of a novel in November.
Q. Who reads the novels?
A. Nobody.
Q. What’s to stop you from writing the same word repeated 50,000 times?
A. Nothing.
Q. What’s your novel going to be about?
A. I’m writing a dark romantic thriller about online dating, self-betrayal, hidden blogs, horrifying secrets, and a clash of precariously balanced personality disorders. It’s set in that place where love and hate masquerade as each other, and where you can’t trust anybody – not even yourself – because nothing is as it appears.
Posted by zoom! on October 28, 2009, at 11:18 am |
 Duncan dining on Tuesday If I were to be reincarnated, I might consider coming back as a housecat, if it weren’t for the diet. Every morning, Duncan eats some cold stinky canned meat by-products. Throughout the day he snacks on crunchy pellets made of dry meat by-products and filler. All he ever drinks is water. No wine, no coffee, just water. For variety, sometimes I serve it to him hot and we pretend it’s tea. He likes that.
When GC first came into our lives, I liked him immediately but Duncan wasn’t so sure. Remember the first time GC slept over, and Duncan peed on his shorts? Remember the time he peed directly on GC? (And on me too, at the same time – we were entangled together in bed one morning and Duncan climbed right up on top of us and peed.) Actually, you probably don’t remember that one because I was so mortified I didn’t even blog about it. I worried people wouldn’t like Duncan anymore if they knew.
We blamed ourselves, of course. Duncan’s dish was almost empty and his litterbox hadn’t been scooped for 36 hours. And there we were, lollygagging about in bed, lavishing so much attention on one another and none on him. Sometimes a cat has a point to make, and humans respond so well to being peed upon. They stop whatever they’re doing and turn their full attention to the cat.
Anyway, it took Duncan a little time to accept that GC, with a little training, might be a good addition to the cozy twosome we’d been enjoying.
 Face in bowl GC was a dog person and knew nothing about cats. First of all, Duncan taught him how to stroke, massage and cuddle a cat. You don’t just thump ’em on the side like you do a dog; There’s some finesse involved. Once GC had mastered this, Duncan appointed him to the very responsible position of morning staff person. That meant that GC was to rise at whatever hour Duncan deemed appropriate, go downstairs, wash Duncan’s dishes and replenish his food.
He also taught GC to beg. I explained to GC once that cats say “I love you” by touching your nose with their nose. So GC begs Duncan every night, before we fall asleep, for a nose touch: “Touch my nose Duncan, touch my nose.” Sometimes Duncan complies; Other times he turns his back and pretends he’s above nose-touching. Occasionally he ignores GC altogether and touches my nose instead.
Because GC wanted Duncan to love him enough to touch his nose every single time, he started looking for ways to make Duncan’s life even better than it already was. This wasn’t easy, because Duncan’s an enormously satisfied cat.
 The Tuesday Bowl Here are some of the things GC does for Duncan: He brings him good presents, like fresh catnip mice. He reads to him. And a few months ago he bought him a special bowl and started a tradition called Tuna Fish Tuesday. Every Tuesday he brings a can of tuna fish over, and he and Duncan share it. GC’s portion goes in a sandwich, and Duncan’s portion goes in his Tuesday bowl. Duncan stands on his hind legs and meows when he sees GC bringing the Tuesday bowl out.
 Lip-smacking goodness Lately, GC’s been a little concerned that Tuna Fish Tuesday might be getting stale. So a few weeks ago he brought over some tilapia, and they had Tilapia Tuesday instead. And yesterday they had Sardine Tuesday. Duncan LOVED sardine Tuesday. He loved it with his big head and his big fat paw jammed into the Tuesday bowl. He licked his lips for an hour afterward.
I wouldn’t let either one of them kiss me til they didn’t stink of sardines anymore, but Duncan thought GC smelled delicious.
Posted by zoom! on October 26, 2009, at 11:57 am |
We thought we were late, but actually we were early, which was why there weren’t any zombies at Murray and Dalhousie yesterday afternoon at 3:30. We underestimated how long it would take them to lurch their wayfrom Beechwood Cemetery to the Byward Market.
“Maybe,” I suggested, “They changed their route this year.”
“You posted the route on your blog,” said GC. “Was it different?”
“I just copied and pasted it,” I said, “I didn’t actually read it.”
Hmmm. I knew for a fact that they’d be going past the Rideau Centre on their way to Parliament Hill, so we decided to go see if they were there. And that’s how we almost missed the Zombie Walk of 2009.
They weren’t there, and by the time we got back to our original spot, the parade was half over! But here are some of the highlights from the second half of the Zombie Walk. Their makeup, special effects, and theatrical skills are nothing short of astounding. I’m so impressed, because I’m woefully challenged when it comes to Halloween costumes. I can’t even be a ghost anymore, what with the cost of sheets and all. Anyway, enough about me! Without further ado, ZOMBIES! (Click the images for even bigger zombies.)
              
Posted by zoom! on October 25, 2009, at 9:23 am |
Yesterday was one of those days where we almost did a whole bunch of things, but actually did very little.
In the morning we decided to drive out to Mantotick to the Swan on the Rideau where Sue W now works. We thought we’d have brunch at her new digs. We were about halfway there when GC got a text message from his son saying he’d arrived in town and would be at his place shortly. So we turned around and went to his place instead.
 Ten pounds of Macintosh apples Later we went out shopping for a laptop for GC, so he can write his Nanowrimo novel. And then I bought ten pounds of Macintosh apples at Farm Boy. Ten pounds. (So far I have eaten one Macintosh apple.) We didn’t buy a spray can of Organic Batter Blaster, although we were intrigued by it. This is basically an aerosol can (I think) of pancake/waffle batter. You spray them out like whipped cream. There are 23 4-inch pancakes in a can, for $4.99. Did I mention they’re organic? So weird.
 Organic pancake/waffle spray We also saw an elderly man at Farm Boy who was coughing the contents of his lungs into a filthy handkerchief while mauling and sampling the grapes. This was every bit as appealing as it sounds, so I probably won’t eat grapes for at least a year.
I wanted to attend the Memoir-writers session at the Writers Festival at 6:30, but I was seized with an intense case of the sleepies around the time we needed to leave. I didn’t want to spend money for an uncomfortable nap, so we didn’t go.
Instead, we figured we’d attend the world record-setting event at Ottawa U in which the most zombies ever would dance to Thriller. It was scheduled from 8:30 to 8:36. But by the time the clock rolled around to 8:00, GC was happily setting up his laptop and I was happily lying on the couch with a good book, and we talked each other out of the zombies. Because, we pointed out, we’d be getting our fill of zombies today at the Zombie Walk.
There’s no way we’re going to miss the Zombie Walk. Last year we stumbled across it by accident, but this year we firmly committed to it in advance because we loved it so much.
Here’s the route, starting at 3:00 at Beechwood Cemetery and heading to Parliament Hill. We’re going to catch it in the Market.
1. Head southwest on Beechwood Ave, becoming St Patrick St toward Cobourg St
2. Continue on Murray St
3. Turn left at King Edward Ave
4. Turn right at York St
5. Turn left at Byward Market Square
ByWard Market
55 Byward Market Square
6. Head southeast on Byward Market Square toward George St
7. Turn left at George St
8. Turn right at William St
9. Turn right at Rideau St
Rideau Centre
50 Rideau St
10. Head southwest on Rideau St toward Sussex Dr
11. Continue on Wellington St
Parliament Hill
Don’t forget your camera!
Posted by zoom! on October 23, 2009, at 11:33 am |
Up until 2009, I probably averaged two medical appointments a year, including my annual physical. But this year? Some days I have three medical appointments. It’s crazy. Right now I’m doing about 10 appointments a week. Five radiation, three back wound dressing changes, and two miscellaneous, like oncology follow-ups, tests, pain med reviews, stuff like that. It takes up a lot of my time, and it keeps me feeling like a patient.
Yesterday was a special treat, because I had a rare appointment that was not medical in nature. I had an appointment with Meghan Dailey, hairstylist to the blogosphere!
She was a lot of fun, which was good because I spent almost three hours with her, getting all kinds of stuff done, starting with a consult in which we (she) brainstormed ideas that would work with my hair and meet my needs (I want to grow it, I want to transition back to my natural colour but in a way that minimizes the old patchy highlights, and it has to be really easy to care for because I’m styling-tool-challenged).
Here’s what we decided:
1) foil lowlights to cover the old highlights and to blend the colours;
2) a good cut with thinning (“so you won’t have triangle hair,” said Meghan);
3) a little streak of peekaboo purple nestled in amongst my curls (I haven’t had purple since my son dyed his hair purple as a teenager and convinced me to let him do a purple streak in mine. His was a gorgeous, vibrant shade of purple, but mine, for some reason, turned out greenish – it looked like a pigeon shit on my head.)
After she was done, Meghan taught me how to ‘do’ my hair on days I want more than wash-and-wear. Just put a bit of this curling oil on my hair and fingers, then twist bits of hair around my finger into curls. That’s it. I’m very happy with my new hair. It looks good, it feels lighter and healthier, and it’s easy.
Finally, we talked about basic hair care. Here are some rules that you probably already know, but which I mostly didn’t:
1. Comb or brush your hair before you wash it, not after.
2. Use just a bit of shampoo – the object is to wash your scalp, not your hair.
3. Leave the conditioner on long enough to shave your legs. (I missed one bit of info here – how much conditioner to use. I’m not sure if she said to condition all the hair or just the tips.)
4. Blot the water out of your hair with a towel – don’t rub it.
5. There’s nothing wrong with air-drying your hair, but keep your fingers out of it while it’s drying.
6. Give all your drugstore shampoo and conditioning products to your boyfriend, because they’re not good enough for your hair. Buy quality stuff from the salons.
7. If you use a blow dryer, use the diffuser. Just tilt your head, point the blow dryer upwards, sit your locks on top of the diffuser, and blow, one section at a time. You don’t need to move the hair dryer around.
I liked a lot of things about Meghan, including her creativity and her down-to-earth approach to hair. She doesn’t believe in fighting your hair type, or in stylists giving you styles that you can’t or won’t maintain. I like that she calls grey hair “sparklers.” I also liked that she didn’t hurt me. My last stylist used to routinely burn my scalp and ears, and repeatedly comb my ears. I found this odd, because I don’t have huge ears that stick out at funny angles or anything. But she used to comb and burn them, and she wouldn’t stop even when I said “ouch.” She said pain was something you had to endure for beauty. Meghan’s philosophy of beauty is much more humane.
Here are her coordinates, if you want to give her a try:
Meghan Dailey
Le Spa
429 McLaren St.
(613) 234-5113
Posted by zoom! on October 21, 2009, at 11:58 am |
 Look! Look at this lovely little face! This is Chelsea Katherine. She’s the inaugural member of the next generation of my family. She arrived a couple of weeks ahead of schedule, and she was practically born on Facebook.
I took my laptop to bed last night so I could keep an eye on developments, and spent most of the night hitting refresh as people kept sending emails and posting updates from the hospital. Five centimeters! Eight centimeters! And then she arrived at 2:10 am, welcomed in person by her parents, Lindsay and Johnnie, her grandma (my sister Deb), and her Auntie Kati. Deb called me at 2:30 to report that she was a 5 pounds 7 ounce, 18 inch, long-limbed but short-torsoed redhead with attitude. She didn’t have a name yet. Maybe Brooke. Maybe Piper. Maybe Olivia. The name came sometime after I fell asleep: Chelsea. Chelsea Katherine. (Katherine is for her Auntie Kati, who is Lindsay’s sister and best friend.)
Isn’t she gorgeous? I don’t know whose fingers those are, but my God they’re huge! Congratulations to all the first-time parents, grandparents, great grandparents, aunts, uncles, great-aunts, great-uncles, second cousins, first cousins once-removed, and everybody else who loves this baby. Her birth knits several previously-unrelated families together, and starts a whole new generation. Welcome to the world, Chelsea. I love you.
And now I really must stop procrastinating about sewing the sleeves into that handknit baby sweater.
Posted by zoom! on October 20, 2009, at 8:01 am |
Idyllic though our getaway weekend was, it wasn’t without hiccups.
On the way up there, I turned to GC and said “Did you bring the keys?”
“No,” he said.
“Me neither.”
So we turned around at the Carp exit and headed back to Ottawa, where we picked up the keys and gave Duncan an extra scratch on his big orange head. Then we hit the road again.
Things went pretty much idyllicly (is that a word?) after that, until we were on our way home at the end of the weekend. We were well on our way home, as a matter of fact.
I turned to GC and asked “Did you turn the propane off?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Did you bring the garbage?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
If we were inclined towards argument, this would have been the ideal time to have an argument about whose fault it was that we forgot the garbage, but neither GC nor I is inclined that way.
Instead, we decided to stop for dinner at an old-fashioned diner in Almonte before turning around to go collect our garbage. We slid into a booth and immediately noticed there was something odd about it. It was tiny. Almost no room between the table and the bench. I don’t know if it was designed for skinny vintage people or what, but we barely fit into it, and we’re not that big. One serious meal, and we’d have been wedged in there for hours.
The menu had a whole page of vintage alcoholic drinks, which cost twenty-five cents more than a chocolate milkshake. Rob Roys, Brandy Alexanders, Singapore Slings, Golden Cadillacs. We decided to live large and go for the milkshakes. Burgers and shakes. Then we squeezed ourselves out of the booth and hit the road.
We sang 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall and got all the way down to 56. I’m pretty sure that’s a world record. The secret? You need someone who can sing harmony. GC can sing harmony. And when you get bored with harmonies, switch to accents. Then vary the tempo. Switch to French. Whatever it takes. Eventually, though, we just couldn’t do it anymore. We stopped singing and GC told me all about the history of jazz.
We got back to the cottage, collected the garbage, and stood there with our heads cranked back, admiring the stars until our necks got sore. Then we headed back to civilization.
Posted by zoom! on October 19, 2009, at 11:15 am |
 More Picture this: A cottage nestled in the woods on a hill above a lake. Windows everywhere. A crisp fall day. Crunchy leaves. A wood stove. A glass of red wine. A good book, read out loud by someone you love. Luscious yarn. A new pattern. No electricity. A cool night. Flannel pajamas. Chocolate cake. Candlelight. A skyfull of stars. A warm cozy bed. A thirteen-hour sleep. A good stretch. A cup of coffee. Toast and cheese. More crisp fall day. More good book. More luscious yarn. More coffee. More everything.
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