Hallelujah! (I woke up to myself,)

Like a tall, dark streak of light or maybe a brighter bit of something that you can't quite see with any rudimentary clarity: I woke up to myself. You know those days when you think that you've got life pretty much figured out in the short term? Rest assured, such a moment is only fleeting because you pretty soon realize that the now that you have been clinging toin an act of outright desperation has since passed and you are now purched on the happy medium between where you almost had things figured out and the gloom and doom where tomorrow habitually resides. I guess in the end, I must confess that it really doesn't matter in the end. As human beings, most of us pretty much are tredding water in the hopes that life will get that much easier in the not-so-distant future. Now, I don't know about you, but life would seem pretty dismal without the odd struggle or two-- even a minute nuisance reminds you of how rewarding life is.

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

Laughter keeps the love going!

Devoid of all logic or reason, I find myself at the ripe 'old' age of thirty wondering what in tarnation will be my next move in my so-called life. At times, it feels like nothing is really happening for me. But then, I blink my eyes and something unexpected happens again and I find myself trying to figure that out too. Part of me is convinced that my worry and lack of independence will go away but then I feel reluctant to complete what might never be complete for me. Does what I'm saying make any sense? One of the things I have always prided myself on is my ability to analyze and problem solve and sort things out. I don't know what to do with where I am right now... not because I don't want to... mostly because I just have no answers available.

Initially, I wrote this blog and added to on line journaling to try and stay connected to the life I was living in Toronto. Like it would give me some sense of belonging or inclusion because ever since I first found out about the Cancer: it became something that made me even more different from everybody else that I was before. The occurrence of Cancer, in my body, doesn't make me special at all. If anything, my experience has taught me that it's just an everyday fact of life... just a part of the human condition and that sucks. It sucks big-time!

Looking back on all that I have lived so far, one might imagine that I got a pretty early acquaintance with my own mortality ant the fact that I have almost died is always present. This ain't no death wish, either-- I guess I am just dealing with a recurring theme or something. This is not who I am... and not who I really want to be in my life. I'm tired of the struggle but I like a challenge and that's not making much sense to me right now either.

Life was never simple... I guess I just need to look at this as a stage in recovery and not a set-back. There's something off-balance right now... something that's trying to get sorted out and my body and super powers don't quite know how to handle anything like this. That's why I am here, in hospital, going stir-crazy because I can't easily do anything right now but rest and that's NOT easy either! LOL At least I can still laugh at myself when I wake up from disappointment and regret. Laughter keeps the love going!

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

From the mouth or babes...

Spending my time in creative embrace surrounded by a world of mini-superheroes has been good for the soul :-) Had a wonderful conversation with kids at play yesterday. They even invited me to be the villain for all their superheroes to defeat. Insights have come fast and furious ever since. This was the perfect antidote to the melancholy that was kryptonite to me. Everything comes to me for a reason... sent to me on the wings of fancy I have come to find my purpose once more. I get how relevant the superhero imagery can be for kids with Cancer. If a child, at play, can use their imagination to conjer up the strength to fight imaginary villains-- let's bring it into reality for a minute or two! Inspiration: thy name is Emma Sky! Daughter to my good friend Charmaine.

I am realizing that rather than planning everything that I am up to in future: I need to also be creating in the now. There are so many untapped resources that surround me and I need to stay open to everything as it's occurring. The lights have flickered and my space is luminous with the possibility of freedom in the face of Cancer!

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

Don't I ever get tired of talking to myself?

Good question, in fact. Although some of you may think that I am superly open and positive about what I've been going through with this whole Cancer and life-changing catastrophe bonspeil the sad hard truth is that's not always the case. Today, for example, on my way home from Ottawa I had a momentary lapse of composure. In actual fact, it was a fairly lengthy lapse... I wish that Cancer hadn't happened to me. I really do. Most of the time, I can be all up-beat and look at this as an opportunity to change the conditions I've been living under but today was not the average day. I get tired... and when I get tired, my body behaves in ways that make even the simplest physical activities uncomfortable. I am sick of not being able to easily turn my head from side to side. I miss being able to feel the space between my chin and my collar bone. I get sad when I think of all the people and things I've missed since I moved back home to be with my family. Some of these things might appear like general human nature but I have never taken the opportunity to talk about what bothers me.

Life is not fair... I know that... and I know that I could have it a lot worse than I do right now. But that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better about the rather lengthy recovery period I am enduring. I am not a weakling either... I think that might be part of the problem I have with not being able to physically do all the things that I want to do whenever I want to do them. And yes, I'm revisiting that same old neighborhood that I put up with years ago: following the motor vehicle accident. I feel trapped. At times, it's like I'm trapped within the confines of a body that doesn't work the way it used to. Heck, I feel like I am getting old and crotchety way ahead of my peers. When was the last time you had trouble lifting your head off the pillow? or shampooing and brushing your own hair? Yeah... Sorry.... I'm not begging for sympathy I'm just being honest about what some of this crap feels like for me.

No, I am not defeated... Sometimes I just get tired of directing my feet to the sunny side of the street. Maybe I just like to hover in the shadows for a bit when no one's watching so I can clandestinely feel sorry for myself until I come up with some other new creative way of turning my frown upside down and making the most of what I have left and blah di blah blah blah. Yes... I do get tired of talking about myself... mostly because I end up some place I wasn't expecting to be at the end of these rampant monologues I spout so freely into cyberspace. I guess that part of me hopes that someone is listening. If you're having a bad day... you're never alone. Lots of people have stuff happen that they can't control... almost by accident: life can jump up and hit you in the face like a big wet fish... leaving you thinking "What was that?" I guess I ought to take a bit of that message and apply it to my own situation. A superhero never has to be alone unless they choose to be and I've felt just about as much melancholy as I can manage for a holiday weekend. Live it... Learn it... Feel it.

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

A swift kick in the keister!

Positive or Negative? Flip a freaking coin! I know, I know... so many people see this strong stoic remarkably positive individual when they look at me... I can't help it! It's not my fault! Sure I have my down times.... everybody does. At least I have enough perception to get that down side is negotiable not permanently inescapable. Nobody wants to hear about all the bad news or sad things that have happened to me. Not really, unless I share the common kernel of 'this is what I've learned' or 'so this is what I'm going to do about it." At this point, those of you who are annoyed at the world for everything that hasn't happened as you would have wished it to have a choice: sink or swim! Powerless is not sexy! Example? If I feel like crap about something, I have found (prove me, if I'm wrong) that it's almost like you've got this big fat dead weight pressing down on you. You feel saggy and baggy and anything less than desirable that comes into mind, please insert here _________. This is not an I'm right, you're wrong conversation either. I am just sick of arguing with myself about how good I've really got it and how the light is still at the end of the tunnel and all this crap is temporary and eventually things will turn out.

I know there's something amazing in my future... I just know it. Not quite sure what exactly it is but I am willing to take a step back from it and decide once and for all what that's got to be. I'm not talking 'may' be or 'might just' be-- those qualifiers are for wusses! Or coy, seductively flirtatious individuals who would love to keep you hanging while they dangle their attractiveness for all to see. But that's really only just another story-- Harlequin I think! I am sick to death of being deprived! Honest! Trying desperately to get back on my game and losing myself in strategy has almost turned the life I am currently leading bland by comparison. I guess that I'll just have to look at my present condition with a slanted realistic eye and say "this is how it is". The only chaser that I will need to continually add-- or at least until it becomes habit-- is that "this isn't how it's got to be or will be." Adding that future context always give you a swift kick in the keister! I'm so lucky that I don't bruise that easily... at least not in my rounder, fleshier parts!

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

Finding My Passion... Again ;-)

So, do you remember the last time you got all excited about something and you couldn't stop thinking about it... I'm not talking about obsession or anything: just some good old-fashioned passion! I've been struggling for a bit. That's not to say that I'm vexed by the obvious Cancer fighting regiment that has become my new-found lifestyle. To be honest, I've been depressed. Ever since I found out about the Cancer, I've been in a bit of a floaty space of "So what you gonna do about it?" For the longest time, I actually thought that once I got done with the treatment I would be just fine and life would get back to normal and I could get on with living again. I'm sorry to say that it's not so simple... Funny, ain't it? We find comfort in the notion that life will get easier eventually and that sometimes stops us from actually doing something that'll jump-start the process. (Don't worry, this blog does have an upside... eventually ;-))

I've been working on a few creative projects... Namely books because, between you and me. I am in no condition to go out and take on the largely superficial world of the entertainment industry that is pop culture. I just don't have the stamina, yet. I think that the children's book that I've been working on is going to be a highly sought after tool to help children everywhere who are dealing with the ever ominous honorary title of 'Cancer patient.' So I got the idea.... the general premise for my book when I heard that they sedate or anesthetize kids who are receiving treatment. What is that about? Right, I know that it's not the most pleasant experience but I was able to work through it with imagination. Why can't kids do the same? Maybe no one has given them the chance-- or choice, for that matter!

So I am a collector... I collect details and sights and sounds and memories. Like many of you, I store them until they might some day be useful. D'you know what I'm realizing? No time like the present, boys and girls! I'm going to stop talking about this great idea I have as just an idea and make it a reality! Sheesh! So many people out there have so many great ideas about what they're going to do when they grow up (whatever stage of growing up is next.) I think that it's what you do with your idea that really counts for something. So I... I want to start something that's bigger than even I can fathom.

A few years back, I wrote this crazy kitchy family feature called 'Superficial' that was all about Superheroes in the making. Now I'm talking that premise one step further... starting from the ground up! Heck! Why can't we plant the superhero seed early in life! All you've gotta do is be brave and do something even though it might be scary and unpleasant. You will arise triumphant as long as you remember why you're doing it! For me, being diagnosed with Cancer made me feel very small indeed. There was this organism inside me that should even be there. This nasty little thing that kept growing and growing and it kills people or makes their hair fall out. Come on, I know that I am not alone in these associations! As people, we've got all these definitions of things... classifications... things we use to discern what's possible from what's unrealistic. Yeah, well try this one on: I am a superhero!

If we look at superheroes, their general class of organism have all had something traumatic or radioactive happen to them. Me too! Have you ever had a sunburn? Then this still applies to you dang nabbit! Please, keep reading... I won't be too much longer. You can be superhuman by being a super human. Defy the odds! Go on, exceed your expectations! Keep pushing the limits of who you're known to be until you reach that widely sought after space that's more than everything you've ever imagines. And when you reach that threshold, look me up... so we can have another conversation about the law of attraction and recognizing opportunities whenever they occur. Surround yourself with supportive, caring people. People who take you for all that you are and all that you are not and will love you even when you change. Love yourself. Worship your body. Feed your soul. Find that elusive passion again!

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

Getting on with getting on with it.

Getting on with it? Oh come on, I think we all know in our heart of hearts what that entails. Giving up the reasons why not maybe? Just maybe that's how most of us stop ourselves; continually compounding reasons why not with other theories about something bad that might happen when we do what we are feeling the urge to do but still have no idea what will come of it. Isn't that life, in short form? I mean, how many of us have ever really, fully, truly been able to foresee any and every eventuality or circumstance that may or may not result from our actions.

If you ask me-- and I am sure most of you would have if you had the chance-- we waste more time and energy convincing ourselves out of taking risks. Does the risk justify the means? Come on... how warm does your left brain keep you at night? Does it have hands that caress you softly? Money to buy groceries? Does it ever even expand beyond calculating the probability that you may in fact become a success at some forthcoming point in your existence?

In retrospect talking myself out of the dangers of radiotherapy might have been a good idea had I not the indeterminable price placed on my future existence. What price would you trade for life? What nu,ber could ever even act as a counterpoint to all the ups and downs you have not yet ever even imagined into existence. Thus is the season of continuance. That drib for drab state of unknowing we constantly find ourselves confronting each and every day that we open our eyes upon this mortal coil.

Within any 'plane' of existence have we not the where-with-all to sit and ponder-- even sleeping, eating and breathing have gotten us a far cry from when we were but mewling infants in pampers and play things. What is you created a possibility that everything you put forward over the course of a day is meant to contribute to your end result. If you were to choose when and where and how you were going to die, would you? Would you tempt fate and keep doing everything that you can to go on living?

My bet is that most mortals are scared shitless of their ever looming mortality. Living life until you die just for the sake of living sure might bring home the meat and potatoes in your kitchen but what remains after that's expired? I have cheated death large-scale at least twice in thirty years of not really knowing what to do with myself and my life and my future. As confused as I might feel at times, one thing that I know for sure is that I love myself and my life and everything that surrounds me too much to choose an early exit. Cutting out on life is a choice that every adult has the power to make at some point in their inconsequential reckoning for a life. But, who says that it's not worth it: you do! Blaming hardship on the outside can be a bit of a cop out. Think about it, what control do we have over life outside the box? Answer? Where I come from, the only place that ever even feels the impact of your actions is you.

This isn't a blame game either! Sheesh! Wherever you are right now has come as a direct result of what you were doing when you were doing it. Why doesn't really matter, unless you're looking for something to kill swiftly and surely and avoid in future. You are in absolute and total control of your life, your future, and your portrait! Paint with style! Paint with colour! and Wear all your chakras with pride!

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

Always dress for the weather: inside and out!

Have you ever experienced radioactive iodine ablation doing a number on your insides so that you have no thyroid tissue all left inside? Well, until twenty-five hours ago: I would have agreed with you and said 'No!' As prepared as anyone thinks they'll be when tragedy strikes, they're not. And when you think that you might know how something might feel the day after and the day after that, let's be honest here: your guess is as good as mine.

After ingesting two capsules of radioactive iodine-- which didn't occur to me as strange until the technician pointed it out to his attending student-- I didn't think I had anything to worry about. I had already asked the doctor about when I should start chewing gum and sucking on candies to keep my mouth from getting super dry only to be delighted with hearing that could start in two-hours time.

This morning, I rushed my way to the hospital and I had to make a detour visit to the Nuclear Medicine Dept. to pick up a requisition form for a stat Pregnancy Test. This would be the kind of question I'm asked all too regularly now. For example, every time they want to xray me or CT scan me or give me any level of radioactive isotope to see if the cancer has spread? Good nows, BTW: it hasn't.

Had a nice little social moment with the dude at the blood lab yesterday. Was that same smiling face I made chuckle over a month ago when I had my first visit with the oncologist up here in Ottawa. That was my first conversation I had with anyone as to the sexiness of hospital vampires versus the standard local hospital or walk-in clinic variety of brute with a thick pointy syringe-type needle that can swallow innocent little children whole. Sexy vampires feel like the tiniest of pin pricks and then the crimson trickles slowly but gracefully down a curvaceous and alluring tube. Upon reaching the threshold, it falls into a slender welcoming mother like vessel with such ease. I often times find myself getting lost within the waves of colour only to get interrupted by the all too famous denoument: "Press here." So I held the small gauze pad to the entry wound without any sense of panic or urgency. I was truly just relieved to have this part out of the way.

Feeling a little faint, my father and I rushed off to pick up a pair of hinged antique doors that my mother had been using as a display piece at her store downtown. I spoiled myself, buying two containers of organic blueberries and eating all the low-iodine goodness I could get into my body in an effort to make up for the fact that I had not eaten a proper low-iodine meal before coming to the inevitable. I'm borrowing my Mom's electric tea-kettle and the microwave will be coming home later so I can set up for life in one corner of the house while my sister, mother, and our three cats are as far away from me as possible. (That's what we're using the pair of hinged doors for: making a barrier so the cats can't come near me til it's safe for everyone.) Rushed back to the Nuclear Medicine Clinic... Found out I wasn't pregnant... and then I quickly but surely got some radio-activity happening inside me-- medically supervised, of course!

Flash forward to my present radioactive self... The iodine must be doing something-- radioactively speaking-- I mean: I am colder than I have ever felt in June: Honest! This morning, I felt like I had a swollen neck-- without any glands visibly remaining-- and I feel encouraged. So, I'm happy to report that I am not feeling comfortable anymore without an effort and even then I don't feel all that warm or energized at all.

I am exhausted and glad that I have to wear a touque and mittens to sleep in because it was getting really silly when I found myself trying to make due without a thyroid and looking at it like it was inconvenient and I would just have to bear down and take it like a... woman? I am super-thang and I will not make myself uncomftable in the face of circumstances that claim to be beyond my control... Nobody can see how silly I look anyway? I'm in solitary confinement for goodness-sake-- self-imposed!

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

Sheer and utter exhaustion can be happiness

Welcome to my day-in-the-life introspective 'I don't know what the heck is happening to my body or life or soul.' I shuppose that today is a theme day for just letting go and taking good care of whatever it is that may be happening inside me. Though I suspect most of you won't know what it feels to live without a thyroid or any trace of the corresponding hormones, I'd imagine you might be able to loosely feel it like some riddled collection of staying up til mid-afternoon following an all nighter where you've had no coffee to speak of.

If you feel restlessness then feel it... when you feel tired either close your eyes or take a cat nap or do something about it rather that just trying to convince yourself that you must make it through to the end without stopping. Listen to your body because it's only trying to give you hints and feedback on what might be wrong or how you can support in it's efforts to help you feel better. Sheesh! We have a miraculous wonderful world of medications and energy drinks and caffeine laced thirst quenchers who have all been made to help us delude ourselves into thinking that we are taking better care of ourselves than most of us actually are in fact doing right now-- this very minute in fact... I'm waiting for a show of hands here... how many of you can honestly say that you've been taking better care of yourself than what life was like when let's say: Mom or Dad was running the show? Yah, I thought so. Well, now I'm just a little bit annoyed with y'all for not having the balls or brains or whatever your excuse is going to be this time-- wait a minute: TIME! That's it, isn't it?

Make TIME... go be a super hero! Save time! Make time! Take time away from the big bade ugly evil villains and save yourself before someone else has to do it for you!

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

So, what the heck am I going to do about it now? What, you may ask: I am not as I have been. For starters, probably part of the hardest thing for me to deal with was losing the voice that has been my pleasure. The docs warned me. They said that I could be hoarse for the rest of my life and I would never be an Opera singer... Of course, when they first warned me I was convinced that it would never happen to me. Nawh... the cancer hadn't gotten that far and I would be just fine when they took my thyroid and lymph nodes out.

Sad but true, I've woken up to the tragic reality that things were not as good as I'd hoped-- nor are they as bad as they could be. As an actor, I of course have some portfolio material that documents what I now only faintly remember as being normal. Today, I watched my first film-- Half Empty, Half Full by Gelareh Kiazand-- for the first time since my surgery. Oooh, the chills. I don't sound or look or feel anything like that young classy broad. I mean-- make no mistake-- I am still very classy, in my own way. Classy as I can be? No. That's just a cop out. Cancer is anything but sexy or attractive or artistic... But I am not cancer.

Like most women, I have always struggled with my self-image, i.e., being comfortable in my body, finding the right clothes to wear, etc. It's weird though... That has had to change for me. I am tired and achy and overweight and scarred and loving every minute of it. I guess I've had to coach myself into realizing that this is only a temporary stage in my recovery. I don't feel the same... but I think that's pretty normal considering my latest episode of 'what the heck just happened.'

In fact, I have a pretty fabulous body. In the hospital, it became pretty clear to me that I could pretty much plan on not being able to do anything for myself for quite a while. Now, although I can do more, I am still in awe of how much my body has been doing without. It's amazing! ;-)

N' that's how I'm surviving... MDB

Going everywhere and nowhere all at once.

You know when it seems like you're stuck somewhere that you never expected to be? It might be a particular lifestyle or location or mood or some other circumstance that doesn't feel quite right. In my case, I've moved from busy downtown Toronto to our family home out in the middle of the wilderness in Eastern Ontario. Now, as I have lived here before, I thought it would be fairly manageable a shift: I thought wrong!

Being dealt the proverbial blow of having lots of stuff taken out of my neck and chest, I have been struggling with not being able to do things that I haven't had to think about in quite a while. Talking a shower, for example, has become an ordeal in itself. The down and dirty is just that: I had to wait for over a month to properly wash my hair. Relax, I had a one time clean up charade with Nurse Hitler a day and a half after my surgery that got the grossness out of my hair. I guess what I am trying to articulate here is that even the simplest things in life can become an ordeal in the flashest of flashes.

Although I have spent roughly two months out here in the boonies, I've chosen to find tremendous comfort in my isolation. In hindsight, I can probably give some credit where credit is due and narrow this unexpected twist down to the moment when I created a possibility of Freedom, Health, and Harmony in my life. --Remember my rant about not knowing? Well, shortly after I was done feeling like I had Cancer: I chose to turn it into an opportunity.-- If I can't make positive out of this, then I'm not going to live through it unscathed.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, back to my point: although I'll confess that I have limited control over how I'm going to move into the NO CANCER district of recovery, I can still live my life fully and completely as I can-- RIGHT now-- intending on the fulfillment of a possibility. Excellent! No doubt, I am constantly reminded of how much I prefer the simpler life I've chosen every time I venture into Ottawa; I get uncomfortable or tired or cranky and I can't really do anything about it. At least when I am out here, I can be the master of my own destiny.

Sure, sometimes it really sucks when I have to leave something unfinished because I can't do anything more with it-- but that's just life acting like life! Sheesh! I get as frustrated as the next person when things don't go my way... and then the dust clears-- or I make it clear-- and I remind myself that my reaction is not really me. I am a young woman with wonky hormones and a sick body trying to reason my way into a better recovery than what I am already doing.

Wake up! You're body is already doing all the hard work for you-- do you get that? All you have to do is pat yourself on the back and do everything you can to support your body in every way you can. Do I make that sound too easy? Well, news flash: it is! Your body is your scope of forever... It is your shrine! Like most of us, I have taken issue with my body being too big, too squishy, not firm enough, etc. My goodness if you could feel all that I have felt of the goings on inside my body since I woke up in the recovery room. I am so impressed with my body... she doesn't really know what she's doing with all this mess that she's been left with BUT she's doing her best to keep things moving and repairing and moving some more.

Just because it feels like your stuck somewhere that is only a temporary symptom of being human-- it will pass, I promise! And also, even if you feel like you don't know what to do: DON'T let that block you from doing anything! Most human beings have no idea of what we're doing most of the time. Sure, we might have a general gist or some learned behaviour that makes us feel more efficient or comfortable at least, but NO-ONE knows everything-- NO-ONE!

N' that's how I survived... MDB

****** Here's a a CHALLENGE I'll invite you to try: go everywhere and nowhere all at once-- Go on, I dare you! ;-)

Having difficulties with medical secretaries is awkward indeed BUT it doesn't have to be.

If you ever feel like you're getting the run around at a doctor's office... Don't stop calling or asking questions until you get the answers you need or they help you find somebody who can. For example, I peppered my ENT's office with phonecalls: wanting to know when I'd be meeting my surgeon. I would usually call every day around about the same time (it became a habit or ritual of sorts.) By the third call, Sherri (the receptionist) reassured me that she would call me when she heard back from the surgeon's secretary. I pointed out to her that I would still be calling her on a daily basis because-- you guessed it-- this was CANCER. It's my life we're talking about. After establishing an open, personal dialogue with Sherri, I made sure that I would always address her by her first name and make some small talk each time I called. By the time I finally got my appointment, Sherri left me with an invitation: I could call her if I needed any help.

So, what do you do if you have an awkward face-to-face encounter... As prepared as anyone will try to be for their first conversation with the doc who's going to cut the cancer out: you'll still feel unprepared. Human beings habitually like to figure out everything they can without even having a real clue about what lies ahead. When I presented myself in front of my surgeon's secretary, I was given what I interpreted to be an impersonal glance and asked for my cards and I could take a seat in the waiting room. I guess, because it was such a huge deal for me, I thought that I deserved more feeling or sympathy or respect and something was surely missing... So I sulked. Just a little bit. Hopefully not so much that anyone would notice me-- and if they did I could just blame it on the cancer!


Before leaving the hospital, I spoke with the receptionist and gave her the alternate address and contact info. I wasn't getting any sympathy from her and let's face it: my life was tragic! I kept trying to get answers and she was not even giving me any clue of care or concern. Frustrated, I stormed off. After a moment's composure I went back to her desk, catching the end of a venting session she was having with a co-worker. This was my cue. I waited until she looked up and then I apologized to her, explaining that I was dealing with a whole lot of stress and new information. Then I remarked that I had no idea what she was dealing with each and every day. She must get lots of people blowing up at her.

"You do an amazing job of it, Lily, really you do. You're right there at the front lines taking shots from every angle. Thanks for doing what you do... You make it a whole lot easier for all of us to cope."

After that, I was sure to call her by her first name every time I called. Then I was asking her how her weekend or march break went. It felt like she spent more time talking with me and she wouldn't leave me hanging; promising to call me back and when. Turning her into a person meant that she was no longer an obstacle: she was on team Melissa.

N' that's how I survived... MDB

Dealing with not knowing... then knowing more than I wanted to know

After discovering my superhero-- yes, folks that'd be me-- I have risen to the unforeseen challenge of coping with a whole year of not feeling so hot only to receive the news that I have papillary carcinoma a.k.a. thyroid cancer. All my hopes were not dashed to smithereens, however, as my particular type of cancer is one of the best you can get. 1) It's curable, 2) You can live without your thyroid, and 3) it is usually a simple case of going in and taking all the bad stuff out. Only one dose of radioactive Iodine should kill any remainig cells. That would be the best case scenario.

Following my diagnosis (12/17/2008) I had a very weird Christmas-- not knowing what to say or feel or what was going to happen or when-- but I managed just as well anyway. When I got back to my apartment in Toronto, I was adiment about getting on with all this treatment and surgery stuff because I had first noticed something back in Spring 2008.

I had spent all my time, following the Christmas holiday, doing my best to keep myself busy enough not to worry or think or throw a tantrum because I had absolutely no idea when the surgery would happen. Following my appointment on January 23rd, my family and I loaded a moving truck and take everything that we could back to our family home up near Ottawa.

The meeting with the surgeon was informative. He hardly said anything to me and let his resident explain the extent of the surgery and all possible risks and side effects associated with such an invasive procedure. They mentioned numbness caused by nerve damage, difficulty swallowing, and an assortment of other things that could go wrong-- Wrong, of course, is what I heard: nobody ever says that there's anything wrong when they talk about how they're going to make the bad stuff go away.

Most of the information just floated by me. I was on this weird all-but-euphoric cloud of fear and anxiety and fatigue interspersed with the odd moment of panic. One thing that I do remember was when they were talking to me about what might happen if the cancer had moved into my voicebox. They would have no way of knowing until they got inside but if they found it: they would have to cut the nerve on my right vocal chord-- Which truly scared me!

For more than ten years I had been training my voice to be an actor and I had always loved singing and now this strange man in a white coat was telling me that I might have a hoarse, scratchy voice after my surgery. Of course, I held my 'I don't know what to do or feel' cards close to my chest. It couldn't apply to me and I was going to be the exception and my voice was going to be just fine without any cancer tagging along.

What did they leave me with? Well, the standard wait time would be four to six weeks before surgery. For me, that seemed like forever! Forever, a.k.a. four to six weeks, came and went. And you'll be happy to know that just about everything they told me was a risk actually happened to yours truly.

After prepping as hard as I could, I woke up in intensive care with the dryest mouth I have ever known. I was thirsty and sore and groggy and feeling rather rotten. But that is where the fun begins: being reduced into a state of 'I donno what I'm gonna do because I can't do much about it anyway.'

N' that's how I survived... MDB