About Life and Death

Yesterday, one of my doctors made an emergency request for an MRI for me.  Everything rose to the surface again- fear of the unknown, etc.  The following is a late night conversation I had with my husband. I realize how bizarre it is to have typed it up, but I believe it is important enough to share, so bear with me ;)

Me:
'I'm sorry for how I've been acting today.  I feel off;  I guess I have for a while now.  It's like I am silently preparing for something.  I feel restless. I'm constantly cooking, crafting, writing, creating, and I don't think I could stop if I wanted to.  I need to be productive and take on every single project I ever wanted to complete.  And when I hug Bu, or look at her, or think about her, I could not appreciate her more.  I love her profoundly.  I'm like that with everyone- I tell everyone how much they mean to me- I'm weird about it.  I have left myself open for all to see.  I talk about my joys and pains in life with astonishing ease.  I've looked back at apology messages I wrote to nearly 50 people last year- ranging in seriousness from things like a silly misunderstanding with someone in high school, to the regretful ways I have hurt people emotionally.  When I was diagnosed with Cancer, I immediately set about making things right with everyone, including myself.  I remember Jeannine telling me a story about a man who had all of his dirty secrets published after he died, and I felt sorry for him.  I wished he had found a peace in his life before he was gone, as I feel those are the opportunities in life to just be genuine.  When you have things weighing you down and you are operating- even unintentionally-  from a wounded place I don't believe you have the focus you need in life.  And the more you share with people, the more you are able to experience with other humans.  Since this whole thing started, I am left with an obvious vulnerability about me, and perhaps because of that, I feel people are reflective with me- sharing trauma they have felt.  I have such bizarre and significant conversations with strangers about their biggest lessons in life, or most enlightened understandings.  The point, I guess, is that I have lived how I wanted to live.  I've met some amazing people and learned so much.  Even being acquainted with this perfection I feel as a family unit right now- I have just always wanted to feel this functional.  And safe.  I know it's a strange thing to say, but I feel complete.  And it kind of scares me.  To feel I have such an intimacy with life and to know who I am so deeply and to feel that I could be ready for this part to be over is so entirely... frightening.  But beautiful.  

Richard:
 'It's been hard to watch you lately.  So determined to keep busy and create.  My Grandpa did the same thing when he was dying of lung cancer, always making things.  It scares the Hell out of me.'

Me:
'I'm sorry.  Naturally, that would be difficult.  I'm not trying to scare you, and I won't give up hope.  If there is a treatment available, I will always take it.  I guess I am trying to be realistic about the inevitable.  It doesn't even matter when it happens, but it does matter if I feel I have done all I feel I should do.  And, I've thought so much about arrangements I would make.  All of the people who we are closest to, all of the people Bu will be guided by.  I know Bu will be okay- I have poured all of my life out into all that I do, and have left so many clues as to who I am along the way. It feels weird to say it out loud, almost like I am tempting fate to even dare mutter about it.'

Richard: (bursts out laughing).
'Yeah! No shit!'

Me:
'I want a BlessingWay when I die.  I want to celebrate it.  I feel it is important to celebrate death the way we celebrate life.  To embrace it, to accept it whole.  I want a ceremony.'

Richard:
'It is a profound thing to be able to do that, if you are aware you are going to die.  To have that ability to prepare in that way.'

Megan: 
'I've often been thankful for the opportunity to be aware of it, grateful for the good fortune to have found this peace.  ...I don't mean to sound self-righteous, you know.'

Richard:
'I know.'

Me:
'Good. I don't want to come across like I feel I am perfect in any way- I am painfully aware I am not.  But I feel I have achieved self-acceptance, now that I finally began living authentically.  Exposing my growing pains in public at every opportunity I can find, you know.'

Richard:
'I feel the same way.  I have done things in life that I should not have done.  But it feels good to accept myself.'



  

Weird and Proud!

Sometimes, I forget how weird I am.  I've always been interested in eccentric personalities who challenge accepted behaviour.  Lately, I have lived in a world where the stakes have been so high with all aspects of my life; I can't seem to escape the awareness of how precious this experience is.  With my ability to live, keep my quality of life, have financial stability in spite of having a disability, to be happy, have any kind of family with my husband (who is doing very well)... I have been walking a fine line and it has brought a heightened sense of gratitude to me.  I value the awareness, but it generally makes me feel disconnected from people.  I have spoken with fellow survivors of trauma and it seems common for people to have a challenging time transitioning back into life.  Especially when I found out the seriousness of my diagnosis, I vowed I would live with more purpose.  I feel kinship with people who are tuned into that reality; the folks who connect with my weirdness are the people I need in my life right now. 

I am reminded of an activity I facilitated for a youth event a few years ago.  We made tie-dyed shirts and then used fabric marker to personalize them.  The group was made up of individuals, some who were diagnosed as having an intellectual disability, and some who were not.  The point of the group was to not focus on labels but get to know each other. One brilliant young lady made a beautiful shirt with large letters: WEIRD AND PROUD! She was fascinated by communication and aspergers (read more about this), and provoked many interesting conversations about breaking down barriers of communication.  Over the years, I have seen her proudly wearing her shirt; I am so inspired by the message.

I try to tone down my communication with people, often having an internal struggle, pleading with myself not to ask weird questions.  I see the purpose of proper politesse, but the odd time, I let my really far-out self shine through.  

Like when I meditate and facebook. Ha. 

I often communicate with little regard for boundaries, but post-meditative Megan is particularly peculiar. I posted a weird profile status on facebook last night, and thought I should write a blog entry about facebook-ing after meditation.  I realize the irony, and meditation typically steers me away from social media. But there are times when I feel inspired to reach out to people.   Tonight, my profile status read:
Time passes and there are many I have not recently shared space with. The ways you have grown, the life you have experienced bear the potential for infinite possibilities. How are you, my Friend?

The beautiful thing was that within minutes, I received messages from people I had been missing, instantly quashing any reservations I had about displaying my weird thoughts for anyone to see.  And, just as instantly, I was inspired by friends who are in a similar place in their life.  It is a tragedy if a person feels self-conscious for being a bit abstract in the way they communicate.  To cap off the night, I updated my status to:

The biggest mistake you can make: hiding how weird you are :)

So, shine on! Have a wonderful day, you lovely crusaders of creativity and curiousness. 

Confessions of a Hypocrite

I have been reading about cancer and other illnesses, disabilities, and so-called defects.  I have read the extensive pathological reports I received from having my cells looked at under many microscopes, studied and mapped out by specialists to discover why I got this squamous cell carcinoma. The exact reason is inconclusive, though it is likely attributed to a combination of things, including cellular damage incurred from drinking a lye-based cleaner when I was seven, environmental causes, genetic predisposition, etc.  A silent part of me feels shame for my own genetic short-comings, but only when I apply my abnormalities to the concept of natural selection.  A big part of me was ashamed to admit that I had cancer because it  would be far more ideal to be a a perfect, healthy human.  Oh well.

My point is this: I likely got cancer because of this advanced world we live in, but it was also treated by, and is in remission, due to scientific advancements.  I believe in natural remedies, but I must also believe in modern medicine. It likely saved my life, though it is a difficult thing for me to accept.  I just went ahead and received radiation and toxic chemotherapy because I was told it was my best chance of survival.  It was my choice to make, and I have had to defend this choice a few times. 

In May, I was approached by the Saskatchewan Cancer Agency to be an Ambassador for a campaign called Touchdown for Dreams.  Being a woman diagnosed with a life-threatening cancer, I was eligible to receive a wish.  I got a kitchen makeover and other home improvements and am grateful for the experience. The campaign highlights a partnership with the Saskatchewan Roughriders and Cameco, a uranium development company; I am literally the face of the campaign, including being on billboards starting this month.  A few years ago, I will admit I would have had nothing to do with it.  But today, I believe I owe my life, in part, to nuclear medicine and the radioactive isotopes produced to kill the cells that were trying to kill me.  It was my only viable treatment option. I haven't found a comfortable way of talking about it, though I have given numerous interviews and have been invited to speak at many functions. On a personal level-  to the people in my life- I just haven't found a way of translating my feelings.  I feel grateful and ashamed all at the same time.  Not only because I gave up some pride and accepted any kind of support, but considering the controversial source, it has made me feel 'off'.  I have been looking into nuclear energy more and more, and while I do not have a scientific background -or, admittedly, a scientific thought process- I have allowed myself to get passed the fear of it. I have to be realistic about the options available. Granted, I have undergone massive change in a short time, and it is natural that I have different ideas now.

When I was making my decision of whether to be a part of the campaign or not, I came to a realization that I am a direct consumer of radiation- it saved my life.  I can't pick and choose when I am okay with it and I wouldn't ever want someone to feel guilty for saving their life by accessing nuclear medicine.  With the campaign, I will be assisting in raising money for other women facing cancer, including helping women in isolated communities to access better medical care through cancer screening and prevention services.  And because of the campaign, I have been invited to assist with other fundraising efforts, including the Choc'laCure Project, which will support the purchase of Stereotactic Radiosurgery equipment for the residents of Saskatchewan.  If this equipment would have been available to me at the time when I needed radiation, I would not be spending the rest of my life with next to no saliva.  It will be an ideal way to receive radiation therapy, as it drastically minimizes the damage to healthy cells.
 
Some may say I am a hypocrite.  The worst kind, likely, because I am shrouded in a facade of good-ness.  I have come out of a huge life change and I must stand by all of my decisions.  But I feel pulled in all directions. I will definitely make the right choices to lessen my damaging impact on the world.  I will be grateful for my opportunities and be an appropriate voice for this small platform I have been given.  I don't need to feel ashamed, and I don't need to apologize anymore.

I am aware of how I may be perceived, but my intentions have always been pure.  I thought I had an unwaivering quality before, when I was so sure of what was right and wrong.  I felt it was my destiny to distinguish between the two: defend the good and condemn the bad.  I no longer believe in good or bad, but I know that my moral compass is telling me I am able to instigate greater change than merely pointing my finger in condemnation.  I want to be a part of the activism promoting realistic advances in cancer research.  I won't hold myself so accountable and stress over how others perceive my direction in life. 

I have thought of the implications with all that I do and I am moving forward with pride. 
I have liberated myself from my fear of being labeled a hypocrite.
My life's purpose will not be hindered by my fears. 

Love and Light,
Megan

Wising Up

I am terrible at being political.  I have ideals but I flip-flop, I am a self-professed bleeding heart and, too often, govern myself by feeling rather than rational thought. (See: Truthiness).  I have taken a giant step back and have needed to focus more on my breath than local, national and international news.  

I am thankful for the folks who analyze political information and are adept at memorizing dates and understanding the inner workings of political playgrounds, as there is an obvious need for information.  I'm just not a key player in this realm.  I no longer need to be the first to read an article or be the resident expert on anything.  I know nothing.  I am a student of the world. I am genuinely trying to be quiet and listen right now because for too long, I gave my opinion without having achieved an ounce of wisdom; I was idealistic, but not very helpful.  

My focus right now: to get in touch with my true feelings on life without listening to all of the background noise. 

Spread the Word to END the Word!

'That retarded chick...'

Today, for one painful moment, my whole sense of self felt summed up in that label.

I was getting groceries with my daughter this morning and forgot my sunglasses on the counter at the register.  I overhead the customer behind me say to his friend, 'That retarded chick forgot her sunglasses'.  I was horrified to realize I was the chick they were talking about.  All I could say was, 'That is one of the grossest words in the human language.  You should consider removing it from your vocabulary.', as I snatched my sunglasses and left the store.  It was only after I methodically placed Bu in her car seat and loaded the groceries in the car that I allowed myself to burst into tears.

I thought about going back in the store to explain how I got my disability from stage 4 cancer and nearly died last year.  The fellow who I wanted to go back and set straight was my approximate age and had garnered a smile from my daughter minutes before he stole my self-confidence.  I wanted him to know who I am and why his words were so ugly.  -I don't particularly like the pet name of 'Chick' either, unless you are better acquainted with me, but I will write about that another time.

I surmised that I should not go marching back into the store mostly because I realized that though the 'R word' is one that I have set to abolish, this issue is so much bigger than me.  I feel disappointed that at this stage in human evolution we have such blatant problems with acceptance.  I've done countless presentations in schools and in our communities to educate children on inclusion, acceptance of differences and not to use labels that can hurt people. I've had numerous conversations with people in bars or in social settings about how one can so easily replace the repulsive words in favor of words like 'ridiculous' to avoid offending anyone.  I have had mind and heart expanding experiences with people of all abilities and feel grateful for the spiritual high I get from communicating with people in alternative methods. I even founded a social group for adults of all abilities and backgrounds called, 'The More The Merrier'. Because I felt so fortunate to have such amazing experiences of friendship through my work, I wanted to invite the world to sit at the same table and talk - or communicate in non-verbal ways (!) - about things that unite us. At its peak, there were over 100 members of the group, and I've always wanted to start it back up... someday soon, I hope.

I have met people who have survived living in institutions, I have friends who were persecuted in public schools, taken advantage of, completely isolated in the community and were left relatively forgotten about.  I have seen some amazing transformations take place when small steps are taken to build a network of support around people and they take their place in the world.  I have seen successes and failures when people try to find a new place to live, work or exist, and I commend the strength that families and supporters have for continuing the 'fight' to have the best possible life for a person they love - I must give a shout out to advocacy organizations like the Saskatchewan Association for Community Living and People 1st for the amazing work they do at a grassroots level.  

Sometimes, acceptance happens the right way- naturally and without an incident where someone is reprimanded or educated on their offense.  I know people who have grown up with a disability and they have simply been accepted for who they are, and it is a beautiful thing.  We should celebrate each other! Damn it, we can't let the 'R word' take away from the advances we have made with Human Rights!

I have friends who have disabilities.  I'll let you in on a secret:  We all have disabilities.  Be it physical, intellectual, mental, emotional... we all have areas that can be challenging for us, and that is okay.  The charm about humans is that we are imperfect. And it is also okay to be uncomfortable with people who are different from you, but I encourage you to keep exposing yourself to the new, so that you can have a new perspective.  I may have been patronizing when I first began working for people with disabilities, for fear of offending anyone, but the more I hung out with people who had alternative ways of doing things, the more I understood the key to true acceptance.  I soon learned that we are all just people.   

I wasn't born with my speaking disability, and it has been something I've had to grow into.  I so desperately want to be normal and speak clearly, especially for my daughter who is learning for herself how to speak; I feel inadequate when I teach her new words.  When I meet someone, it is more challenging for me to just have a conversation like I may have done before.  I find my 'disability' can get in the way.  I try to get around it, but it is there- plain for all to see -and hear.  Have you ever experienced the painfully awkward moment where you try to tell a joke and have to repeat the punch line because someone doesn't understand what you said, or doesn't hear you?  I have that moment all the time now.  It interferes with my nearly-existent humor. 

It is not ideal to share this humiliation with the general public, as I was genuinely wounded by the words spoken so freely by another person.  I have come to believe we really have to be accountable for how we treat each other, and it is never too late to change our ways. This unfortunate interaction makes me feel like hiding from the world so no one else can label me.  I am a mother and I have a responsibility to my daughter, but more importantly, to myself, to remain open and keep on my path of being my true self without restrictions.  And having any hangups with my confidence is just not an option; I have worked too hard to get to this point of self-acceptance.  It is one thing if I question my own worth, but I won't allow someone else to label and evaluate me like that.  I'll keep my power, thank you very much.

If this were to somehow reach the fellow who wronged me this morning, I would want him to know I have already forgiven him.  I saw how horrified he looked when I turned around- he didn't know he spoke loudly enough for me to hear him.  I would also say: 

We should want the best for each other- the better we feel, the better we become, the more we are able to contribute to humanity.  Go out into the world and help advance this human race, one small step at a time.  And leave offensive, confining words like the 'R word' out of your realm.  Don't isolate yourself by offending others- anyone can be your friend.  You are better than that.  And frankly, I expect more from you.

Blessings to all,
M

A Guide to Living Like a Modern Gypsy

The Attitude
The essential attitude: to relinquish control by surrendering to any circumstance that may arise.  Once I overcame the need to adhere to a plan, our travels became a joyful adventure. I used to make a point of adventuring on my weekends off and made an effort to explore new places; I haven't done much exploring lately, as I felt I needed to play catch-up in spending time with Bu.  We've recently had the opportunity to have sleep-overs in the comfort of the homes of our family and friends- we've had early morning visits and we're currently camping in a beautiful, serene Saskatchewan Provincial Park.  I've started to blossom since I've connected with the amazing people in my life, and I have more tracks to make.  I'm fortunate to have time to do so, as I feel an importance in not only sharing with my tribe members, but also in demonstrating this kinship for my daughter.  Long story short, I feel a person's attitude can greatly affect an outcome of a journey... and feeling connected to what kind of experience you seek will impact where you go.


The Bag
I have a bag of essentials with me that has all of Bu's vital items like snacks, a reusable cup, an extra outfit, her harmonica and other toys that are her favorite but are also easily transported -like a few crayons and paper.  Other essential items: water, wallet, sunscreen, hand salve, toothbrushes, a shampoo bar, a couple of scarves, tinted moisturizer, mascara, lip balm, hair clips, my cell phone, fruit and seeds, water bottles, essential oils, cloth sun-hats and a pashmina shawl that can double as a blanket for Bu.  In my car, I keep sandals, rubber boots, cowboy boots, jackets and a small make up bag so we can transform our outfits with ease and be ready for any occasion. I also have a cooler, blanket and speakers.


The Place
Wherever your heart tells you to go.  We are currently out of our home for a month due to renovations (Thanks to the Touchdown For Dreams Campaign) and have time to go wherever feels right at any given time.  We've had the good fortune to have unique interactions with some amazing people!  I've gone wherever Bu seems to feel comfortable, which is where I am also at peace ;)  My parents set up their trailer in Blackstrap Provincial Park, across the highway from our home.  We can stop by and pick up items and still relax in the gorgeous surroundings of trees and a lake.  Bu is a happy camper and would prefer to remain outdoors so we play outside all day; it is such an enriching experience that has befallen us.


The Gratitude
My heart is full and I feel blessed to exist.  I had been so stressed out over so many things before letting life flow in this calming direction. I'm living simply but comfortably- as close to a Romani lifestyle as I can hope to achieve.  Happiness abound. 

Stay-cation

In my typical blogging fashion, this was written a month ago, and I thought I'd share it now...

Day 1:  Remember him.  And go swimming.

I find relief in saying that my most intimate, beautiful, inspiring, perfect moments in life are not necessarily captured on film.  There is a strange sweetness, a satisfaction, in having it locked away in selfish memory for only me to have.  The birth of my daughter prompted this, as there were no pictures taken, but the first time I saw her is nothing short of magic, and I don’t mind one bit -anymore- that I share such an intimacy with that moment.  We buried the ashes of my Grandfather yesterday; he wished to be buried with his brother Harvey- his best friend, co-farmer, etc, who passed away far too early 40 years ago to the very day. My Grandpa missed him everyday, and laughed fondly over memory of his hilarious brother.  

 
There are moments that seem to serve as the fundamental pillars that make us who we are.  They are sometimes moments of elation, sometimes they are times of pain. Or for the really special times, they are both.  I will forever be haunted by the image of seeing my family members at the cemetery for the burial of my Grandpa Wells.  The dark sky, darkly clothed crowd of people in contrast with the snow and sleet that was building at our feet and blowing all around us.  And a vibrant, green box with his ashes in an urn, adorned with the tan pair of work gloves that my Dad just placed on top to be buried with him forever.  And the blue of my Grandma’s beautiful eyes- full of so much love and sadness… this moment is forever etched in the innermost part of myself.  My sisters and cousin Louise were huddled around my Aunt Lorna, who was holding a brightly colored umbrella and reciting The Cremation of Sam McGee (my Grandpa was a master of remembering and reciting poetry).  

I had an epiphany about life.  I’ve been paying attention to this great man, Wallace Ross Wells, my whole life.  He declined having a big, showy funeral, and the fuss of the Legion presenting him as a member.  He told his minister that if he talked for more than 15 minutes, or eulogized the service too much, my Grandpa would come back to haunt him.  Goodness, this man was humble and humorous. But in contrast, he wrote memoirs, and had a sense of building a legacy. He journaled daily for years.

I was in California only a few days ago, and rushed away to come back to my chaotic life before I was ready.  I went for a run the day after my Grandpa passed away, while we were in Los Angeles.  I ran through the crowd near Disneyland, who were gathering for the opening in the morning.  I was panicked about how out of control I felt, about having to go back to my reality of marriage challenges, an impending law suit, facing more health intervention.  I resolved to allow myself time to fully heal, and things keep popping up, as happens in life.  I realized during my run that I was using the trip to escape.  And now that it was ending abruptly and without completion, I had to figure out what to do to save my sanity.  This year, especially in brief summary, has been so utterly bizarre that when something stressful comes up, I just roll with it out of exhaustion.  I’m emotionally spent, and it is paramount that I find ways to cope in my real life, and not expect to find comfort in the magic of Disneyland or beautiful, sunny beach days in San Diego.  

So, here I am at the beginning of my Staycation- my effort to see out this voyage that was supposed to end in a week.  I am going to practice keeping myself balanced, adventuring wherever feels right at the time, listening to myself truly, to have fun and be happy.  I literally have nothing else planned, as I wasn’t even supposed to be here right now- I have the luxury of having time!  But I guess I always did have that luxury and I just didn't realize it.

Day 1 is dedicated to remembering Wallace Ross Wells.  He was wise and funny- delightful to talk with and be around.  I was lucky to know him, and consider it an honor to share in his lineage.  He was a father figure to many and knew a true sense of community.  He will always guide me.

We hosted family members at my parent’s house on and off throughout the day.  At the end of it all, I decided to join some family members in a swim at their hotel.  I share a unique relationship with my cousins, Jen, Larissa and Kristen.  My Grandpa was their Grandpa’s brother, and my Grandma is their Grandma’s sister, so we are doubly-related.  When sharing stories of our ancestors, there is a complete account and history, being that we share such genetic common ground.  I learned about my foremothers using ouija boards and levitating tables.  And heard of the most amazing love stories that just made my heart melt.  It was such a profound discussion- sprinkled with my Uncle Doug’s laughter and insight, Bu’s splashing, and my cousin Lindsey’s gentle guidance of my nephew Roark.  Lovely.

Day 2: Coffee

We had coffee with my Aunt Jody, Uncle Doug and my cousin Lindsey, while looking through some of my Grandpa's possessions.  It was so interesting to see the treasures that I remembered from my childhood. Then we had some playtime with Cassy and the boys. Followed by more coffee time with Grandma and Grandpa Rudd, then with Cheryl and Dean, where we booked campsites for our family reunion this summer.  It was a full day of relaxed visiting.

Day 3: Get lost in some trees, love some animals.
I went to my Grandma’s for tea in the afternoon.  She was hosting her sisters, and I caught a glimpse into their sibling dynamic.  Translating my relationships with my sisters to how my Grandma interacts with her sisters is quite amusing.  They have such defined characters, as my sisters and I do, and I guess I never looked at their relationships with my own adult eyes.  There is a vast difference in how I perceived the elders of my family when I was a young child to how I view it now.  And thinking about how I may continue to grow up with my sisters and build on our current relationships over the years is a pretty cool thing.

We hosted a last-minute supper of 25 people, to celebrate the birthdays of my Dad, my Grandma and my brother-in-law, Mike. My Mom hosts suppers with 40-50 people often, so it wasn’t a big deal for her to throw together a barbeque.  I had a lovely time exploring in the trees with my nephew, Roark, and Daniel, a sweet little (foster)child who has been a lovely fit in my Uncle Maurice’s family.  The boys climbed trees and Bu looked on with delight.  

The evening made me miss my Grandpa’s easy presence.  He really anchored our family.

Day 4: Ditch the technology and be thankful.
I lost my phone.  It has accidentally become a fixture in my hand, and I think I could benefit from same time apart from that which takes away too much (any) of my focus.  I don't know what happened- it must have fallen out of my pocket during the walk from my sister’s house to my parent’s house- I retraced my steps but it was nowhere. Good riddance, for now.

Anyway, I spent the afternoon with my Grandma and Aunt Jan, writing thank you cards on behalf of our family.  It felt good to do something for my Gran, and I got to spend time with her as a bonus. 

Day 5: Face the music.
I spent some time perusing the photographs we took of our trip.  I don’t believe I could have looked at them before today, as the trip was too fresh- the experience too exhausting to think about.  7 days of driving -with 3 toddlers and a 5 year old- for 3 days in Disneyland was not relaxing.  Yikes.  But when we all sat in my parents’ living room to look back, it was all fine.  We had lovely moments during our roadside stops, and some great bonding time in the vehicles.  I’m glad we went, I’m glad I got to make it back to be with my family.  No regrets.  There will be no regrets.

Day 6: Get lost in meditation.
I spent a lot of time outside today and really allowed myself to get lost within.  The journey one can take when they look in their own self is profound.  No need to go anywhere, or have anything.  I felt at place and really tuned into how I feel.  I think I have times when I summarize my life and have a sense of anxiety.  So then why summarize? Why think of the points of frustration and become fixated on them? I constantly remind myself to meditate more often, to practice maintaining a peace in my heart and not go to war with my past.  I forgive cancer for taking away some of my abilities and my safe world.  I forgive Richard’s alcoholism for taking away some stability in my life.  I forgive the people and the mistakes that led to me not having an income for this past year.  I forgive my body.  I forgive myself.  It has taken a lot of work to get to this point, and I’ll always have further to go.  The deeper I go, the more I uncover, the more healing I have to do.  An everlasting, exquisite exploration.

Day 7: Praise Jesus, break bread and go home
We went to church this morning and had a good time.  Bu loved the singing, and it felt good to be there to support my Grandma in her community.  She took a large clan of us out for lunch, including the minister who was there with my Grandpa when he passed.

  
It took a long time to pack up all of my effects. My car was full to the brim, Bu was primed for a nap and we hit the road.  I had anxiety about returning home, but I was excited to go.  I picked Richard up from his place in Saskatoon and Bu couldn’t have been more delighted to see him.  I was too.  Regardless of our past or our future, he is my very best friend.  Seeing him is like coming home, and after a very weird couple of weeks, he was just who I needed to see.

To further my efforts in maintaining a vacation vibe in my everyday life, I promise myself to have more fun.  And I will effectively leave my worries behind daily, much like I allow myself to do when I embark on a vacation.

Happy Half-Birthday to Bu

Bu is now a year and a half old! In celebration of her 'Half-Birthday', I cranked up the dance music and we grooved while changing clothes and snapping pictures.  We ate her favourite foods, cuddled on the couch and napped together while watching Ratatouille.  The best part of the day was during our harmonica jam- my cheeks hurt from giggling.  She keeps me dancing, laughing and appreciating everyday... I am so thankful to be able to share time and space with her.

The last 'look' was inspired by my friend Fran and the ways she encourages her children to be gender creative.  I feel I need to be more aware of showing Bu a spectrum of choice, especially when choosing ways to express herself.  Girls can wear blue, boys can wear pink! 

How I Learned to Love Football

Before the 99th Grey Cup in November, I was admittedly not a follower of football; I successfully typecast myself for nearly my whole life as a non-sportsfan.  I can't imagine I would have ever elected to go to a game on my own (potlucks and house concerts have been more my tempo).  So, when I got the call inviting me to go to the Grey Cup (all expenses paid), I declined the offer, stating that the experience would be more appropriate for someone else. I got off the phone and chatted with my sisters, who offered to watch Bu for the weekend and encouraged me to start living my life. I phoned the social worker who had connected me with the Chris Knox Foundation and asked him if I was too late to say 'yes'. I wasn't.  Richard was working and playing at a charity event and offered 'his spot' to my Mom. This was the perfect choice, as she truly was there for every major point of my journey, for times when Richard was not able to be strong. My Mom championed me through my whole cancer journey, with the assistance of my loving family. For us to go and connect with other families touched by cancer was simply amazing.

Our trip started at a hangar, where we took a chartered flight from Saskatoon to Vancouver. There was a media send-off of all of the participants of the adventure and some amazing words spoken about the impact this annual trip has had in the lives of those touched by cancer. I was rather numb -perhaps fearful because my own journey is so fresh and am really just emerging out of the emotional shell of protection I had placed myself in. Meeting children and other young adults who I could relate to was something I hadn't yet thought of doing, and I got the random opportunity to spend an intimate weekend with a community of Survivors and their loved ones.

Shell-shocked, I opted to sit in the front of the plane to give myself some emotional space during the flight. I kept replaying my summer and thinking of how much I already missed my daughter, Bu. I worried about leaving her for the weekend to go on a personal, selfish trip. My friend, Lynn, is the coordinator of the Saskatchewan Family Network through the Saskatchewan Association for Community Living (https://www.sacl.org/programs.php?p=sacl-family-network). She always says, 'In order to be the whole mother you need to be, you have to put your needs first so you can better take care of your family'. I believe in the sentiment, and decided to let go my worries and allow myself relief from my internal struggle.  And then I noticed Donovan. He was sitting behind my Mom and I, with his mom Kelly, excitedly talking about the big game, and he was taking several pictures from the window. We were flying over the mountains as he perfected his shots. I wondered what his story was, but surmised that knowing someone for a few hours didn't warrant an in-depth discussion of their medical history.

It was dark when we arrived in Vancouver, and we hopped off the plane and onto a bus. We went straight to the Vanier Cup, where I had the pleasure of sitting next to the young man I was so curious about. Donovan was explaining the basics of football to my Mom and I. It was excellent; a great first game to watch- ups and downs, a double overtime, and sitting next to a young football enthusiast made for a thrilling time!  Our next day began with a breakfast in the revolving restaurant above our hotel and a chance to get to know each other better. Then we got to be a part of the (rainy) Grey Cup Parade! It was a surreal experience to represent Saskatchewan, and though my fanatical self is in a stage of infancy, I was nonetheless exuberant! I was spotted by a woman I graduated with who now lives in Vancouver and we saw some women from Swift Current, which contributed to a further sense of Saskatchewan community. So cool. I waved my pom-poms, braved the downpour of rain and cheered alongside my fellow green-wearing folks. Some playful heckling between BC fans occurred, which made me feel a bit like a poser. Having no knowledge of the sport or the history of it, while looking rather invested in my province's colours, made for a couple of moments where I questioned my believability... but I recovered. We finished up with camaraderie bubbling over as we loaded the bus and headed to the Vancouver Aquarium.

I was truly touched when Donovan informed me he and his Mom would join us for the walk-through of the area. He nicknamed me 'Tour Guide' and allowed me to map out the couple of hours we had there. Along with our Mom's (his is only a few years older than I am), we snapped photos and explored marine life. I really bonded with them during this time, as we shared stories and built memories. It is a rather unusual feeling to have such comfort in the company of a 12 year old young man; I found him to be courageous, thoughtful and wise beyond his years. I began learning about his struggle with his health, including the 3 and a half years of chemotherapy he has left. My heart ached for his mother, who certainly had her fair share of health concerns with her children. I was completely in awe of her strength, as she is certainly in the thick of this trial. A more effective advocate and source of comfort for Donovan could not exist! She has the strength of my Mother, and any other parent who puts their game face on and simply supports their child through a dark time. It seems terribly unfair for her to have to watch him go through this. Hearing some of their stories of their hospital stays made me incredibly frustrated.
We went to Granville Island to do some shopping. It was misting out and the early sunset caught us by surprise, as my Mom and I did a quick tour of the area. We had been there together 15 years prior, but it was completely different now. We even got a little lost and worked together as a cohesive unit to find our way back to the meeting spot.

We then went for supper with 10 others to a Greek restaurant on Robson and enjoyed another opportunity to bond. I am haunted by what some of the families have had to go through. A particularly stylish, young and free-spirited lady, M, had been struggling with her peers questioning her about her new leg after her surgery to remove the cancer in her hip and thigh area. Her father recalled a conversation he had with her one evening where he told her he wanted her to love her 'new' leg as much as he did. Because it wasn't going away, she needed to accept it and love it genuinely. How brilliant! The conversation proved to be effective, as M clearly beams confidence now. I couldn't have been more touched by it.

Here is where the trip became particularly profound for me... the drinks my Mom and I ordered never came (after a 45 minute wait) and there wasn't much on the menu that catered to my no solids diet. So, we planned to get some miso soup takeout and head back to our hotel room. I went to tell the youngsters (aged 8-12) at the end of the table that we were going to leave. When they asked why, I explained how I wasn't really able to eat. I was completely inspired by M's story of self love that I readily opened my mouth to show everyone my 'new' tongue. Sweet little miss Jola (a lovely, perfectly-nosed, young lady) was so kind, as was M, and I could feel myself beaming inside. After viewing it as a bit of an embarrassment for 8 months, I hadn't fully accepted it as who I now am -secretly hoping for a miracle for it to grow back, or at least, the ability to speak without an impediment. And here I was, with young people who seemed so at peace with their fate. I'm blessed to have my metaphorical eyes opened, for in that moment, I realized I need to get out of my head. The people who are uncomfortable with me should not effect my own level of comfort with myself. Fate dealt the cancer card and made it necessary for me to forfeit my tongue for my life- anyone who would judge me based on that can stay at a comfortable distance! I had only shown a handful of people my new tongue before that evening, and am grateful to have a new sense of (growing) confidence.

That brings us to game day. We went to the TSN Broadcasting Zone and got VIP treatment, as we met with influential broadcasters and were introduced to football players. It was embarrassing to have no clue who anyone was, as we were spending time with them, but I was honored all the same. I even threw a football in a mock end zone, thanks to my friend Donovan's encouragement! I was interviewed by CTV Vancouver on my experience, where I was finally able to articulate that: I wasn't a football fan prior to this trip, but I am pleased to have the opportunity to be one now. We spent some time relaxing in the much-appreciated sunshine before loading the bus again and heading to our ultimate destination. 

We went to BC Place early to get situated in our seats. The air was peppered with excitement and anticipation. Myself and some other ladies decided it was time to take advantage of the face paint we had been given (from Dash Tours). It was delightful! I rarely knew what was going on during the game, but I cheered for both teams and had a grand time. I even enjoyed Nickelback's performance, though openly made fun of them before. I realized I don't need to label myself as a non-fan of anything- especially when I've never given it a chance. I can have an appreciation for nearly everything, so I need to allow my true feelings to flow!  Having said that, I won't be going out and buying a Nickelback cd, but I also won't participate in the chorus of Nickelback haters.  Live and let live...

We flew back that night, after the game. My time away was just long enough that I was anxious to get back to Bu- my Mom and I even drove back to Swift Current that night and got in at 5 am. I am thankful to my sisters and brother-in-law, who watched Bu (the little monkey had the flu, along with my 3 nephews, so it was an exceptional feat for all of them!). And to my Mom, who encouraged me to make the very most of my experience -posing for pictures with football players I didn't know, participating in the events fully, and for being my own personal cheerleader for my whole life. And to Pam, Sharla, Nigel and Georgia who I bonded with in immense ways. Sharla Folk is a modern day hero- someone who has experienced an unimaginable loss and had the wisdom and strength to continue on with her son's legacy. To posses the ability to create a life-changing movement for young people is nothing short of admirable. She, Pam, George and Kim facilitated our trip beautifully. So much work went into planning every little thing, complete with arranging for Roughriders to come to our hotel for photo ops. I guess I also have to thank the 2 board members who were unable to attend at the last minute as well ;)
The Chris Knox Foundation provides a common ground, a safe place to heal, share and grow together as a community. It was a fun and unforgettable opportunity!  Please go to the website, chrisknoxfoundation.ca to learn about the man who started this community. Bless you, Chris! And your beautiful Mama...

Bu sporting my new, green effects from the trip.  She especially loves the pom poms...

My Mom and I at each other's throats over our differing views... lol

Fellow Survivors- I honour you on your journey.... xoxo