If I Was a Boat

Welcome to My Life - Simple Plan

I used to think that it if I was a boat on the water and wind got knocked out of my sails, I would still be able to stay a float and survive. But I've had to many holes bashed through my hull and the repairs are wearing thin. I'm not so confident anymore. The wood is rotting and the facade is fading. The stormy seas tossing me about the waves are precipitated by my tears falling like a spring storm churning up the water and my emotions at the same time.

I have always been an optimist. I tried to see the bright side and look for the good. Even when I was being kicked, I could admire the shoes of my punisher. But it is getting harder to do that. The patterns of the soles are etched in my own soul. The depth of the scar is getting to be too much to bear.

Life shouldn't have to be a fight everyday. Wondering what next. Wondering where that alleged karma is. Wondering what you did that was so wrong that you only start to see the end of the tunnel and then someone lengthens the tunnel and puts out the light. And if good things happen to good people, what did I do that was so wrong that I pissed off everyone and revenge is being served like a hundred lashes designed to bring me down as soon as I stand. Damn! 



Statistics. I was going to do some research into the odds of someone likely to experience these trials but on every site there was a link off to the side for the newly diagnosed and I closed the tab faster than I can suck in all the surrounding air. My doctor said she had never heard of a similar experience. It was a double-whammy. 

It's like this. In November (2013) a routine mammogram resulted in an abnormality being spotted. I was told that this is not a particularly unusual occurrence, but it didn't do much for my already heightened depressive state. I tried to remain positive because it was just a shadow that the professionals wanted to shine a light on. Nothing to worry about. 

However, there seemed to be a bit of an urgency to the scheduling of the second mammogram at the Breast Health Clinic at the hospital that had me on a brief fatalistic alert but the optimist took over and I walked in with a face of confidence. The pictures are taken and I am told to wait while the radiologist takes a look. Sitting in that room with 8 others (plus most had partners with them) I felt alone and real fear began to make an appearance. Before my test and during my wait I watched so many of them come and go. Their simple second look turned out okay and they were allowed to go. I hoped the same would be true for me. But no.

I became a statistic when I was one of the rare ones that warranted an additional diagnostic analysis with an ultrasound. Anxiety hit the roof and I had myself dead and buried. Lying on that bed, I remembered the last ultrasound I had. Circumstances were happier then and I tried to focus on that - pregnancies a quarter of a century previously. Those tests brought joy and I hoped for the same now. The technician was satisfied in her reading of the results that it would be okay. But had to take the results to the radiologists, in case she read it differently. When that radiologists walked in to do the test herself I lost it emotionally. Tears fell silently down my cheeks as hope was washed away. The conclusion of the test brought no additional hope when the radiologist said she thought she was looking at a cyst but wanted to go one step further in the diagnostics. To be sure. A core biopsy would be scheduled for the new year. Christmas could be a time for peace. Results would be harder to get with people taking time off. 

The walk home, I tried to hold on to her optimism. She couldn't possibly go around giving people false hope. She said she was confident it was nothing. I kept repeating her words to comfort myself. Try as I might I couldn't hold on and slipped further under the cloak of sadness. I must have looked a fright as I walked down the street sobbing, tears blocked my vision and I walked blindly on. The ocean was a few blocks ahead of me. I didn't trust myself to go that far. 

Christmas became a time of joyful reunion with my kids. It seemed like a lifetime since I had seen them. The weather threatened delays and cancellations when I needed some face to face time to share this news with the people who mattered most. My children needed to know what was going on from the horse's mouth. I needed to see them so I could gauge their reaction and deal with it. We clung to the radiologists optimism and hope was renewed. 

I'm not going to share all the details of the core biopsy to save the squeamish, because it is not a pleasant experience when put to words. But the reality is that as with any medical (or dental) procedure, the freezing sucks for just a moment and the rest is less daunting. For me, it was a longer mammogram in an uncomfortable position listening to soothing voices tell me what was going on and a "snap" that reminded me of my construction stapler. I couldn't see the instruments but I thought this a good thing. In reality, both arms were above my head and the tears flowed unrestrained. There was only one thing that stopped my chest for heaving in conjunction with the uncontrolled sobs - a medical vice. It never occurred to me at the time, but I sure didn't want to screw up the test results and have instruments probe where they shouldn't. I think it was okay, because both the radiologist and the doctor were shocked by the pool of tears that collected on the bed sheets. 

The wait for the results to come back from the pathologist was far worse than the procedure. I was afraid to hear the news. And I was angry too. I thought I had done all the right things as preventative measures and this was like my body had let me down. A betrayal by my breast friends. 

I swear that both the doctor and I breathed a collective sigh of relief when she could share the news a week later that the pathologist report came back and it was clean. Suddenly I sat a little straighter in the chair. The weight of doom was off my shoulders. Such a scare is often followed up with more frequent mammograms. Bring it on - I can take it. Calling my children with the good news was a highlight and we all smiled a little brighter.

Goodnight Elisabeth - Counting Crows

And I thought that appointment date for the next mammogram was the reason I was hearing from my doctor when she called early in the week (Monday Feb 24). But I sensed hesitation. "I didn't want to tell you this on the phone" is not a good sign. Against all the odds, and more than a month of feeling safe and the gauntlet was dropped on me again. A fight for the retention of both my sanity and health was to begin anew. The radiologist/technician/doctor gave the all clear and were confident that the samples were taken from the correct location. The pathologist gave the samples an all clear but was not confident that the said samples came from the area of concern. So I have two choices. 

Another core biopsy was scheduled for weeks' end, or I could take my chances and wait for 6 months and see what the follow up mammogram shows. Stress for a week and wait a week for results or freak out for 6 months wondering if I am dying. Yes, it's fatalistic - but it's not like the odds have been in my favour up until this point. I've fallen on the wrong side of the tracks ever step along the way. 

It was just a fluke that my daughter happened to call during the day while she was on her work break and caught me emotional just after hanging up with the doctor. I had to tell her, the nightmare was to be repeated. Woman to woman this is hard because we put ourselves in those shoes. We've all worn shoes that were uncomfortable and sometime hurt and made us bleed. United in the sisterhood of beautiful breasts that made us women.

I couldn't bear that my son should find out this latest set back when I wasn't in a rational place to discuss it. I didn't want him to worry but he seems to have this weird 6th sense when it comes to knowing when something is up with me. He'd find out and it would be better coming from me when I was still coherent. For the numbing effects of alcohol would soon prevail.

Leading up to the appointment yesterday (Friday, Feb 28) I spent some time in contemplation and reflection. That's just a sugar-coated way of saying depressed, anxious and fearful. I don't cope with stress the way I used to. These days I hide in my shell and try to protect myself from any more harm. I know I shouldn't, but feeling alone and lonely by yourself is better than feeling it surrounded by people who can't feel or see your pain. I already feel like a freak, I don't need the world to remind me of it. 

There was a certain resignation that came the morning of the appointment. I was numb. There weren't a lot of tears left to shed. Do what you have to do to leave me be. The technician knew my past history, (was she the same one from before?) she was kind as she explained the procedure again. She drew pictures to explain so I could focus on those along with her words. It was like I hadn't heard the instructions before. The procedure was similar, with more discomfort than I remembered and a chill that went straight to my core (no pun intended). I was prepared with extra tissues to collect the tears but the exposed positioning of my body didn't allow me to use them for more than an object to squeeze with stress. But as I said, there simply weren't a lot of tears left to flow. 



The logical part of my brain is telling me that I will survive this last crisis whatever the outcome of the tests - at least not by my own undoing. The emotional part of my brain isn't sure I want to fight anymore for even another breathe. In the end it was the words of the technician/nurse that I cling to. In a very subtle but meaningful way, she let me feel less alone at the moment by letting me know she understood because she had experienced the procedure herself and more importantly as I left her parting words were "now you can tell them to leave you alone."

Because that's all I ever wanted...to be left alone and in peace. It is hard for me to share the shadows in the closet and to give light to the darkness of my mind. There are a lot of ghosts in there that are frightening. 

It is getting increasingly hard to keep healing the hurt. But even if broken, I shall continue to try and stand on my own, even if I can no longer fly.


Thanks to all the supporters who could read through my cryptic words and know I needed to hear they cared. I love you all. 


Previous posts on this subject and experience:

http://pinkpantherfancanada.blogspot.ca/2013/12/the-flames-of-hell-are-nipping-at-my.html
http://pinkpantherfancanada.blogspot.ca/2013/12/pancake-no-syrup-round-two_19.html

"Blue Rodeo Day" feels like Bologna in their Shoes

Lost Together - Blue Rodeo

Did you hear about the honours that have been bestowed to the best band to come out of Canada? I think I may have mentioned it before! :) Although Blue Rodeo has experienced some international success, they have remained true to their Canadian roots. After all, how many groups boast band member hockey jerseys for sale on the web store? Only in Canada you say? lol! Blue Rodeo is that band and I promise that if I had the extra cash flow, I would have one of those hockey jerseys! 

Blue Rodeo was inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame on April 1st during the Juno's telecast. A long time coming for sure, but to be fair the Hall of Fame has only been in existence since 1978. Jim Cuddy and Greg Keelor the foundation of Blue Rodeo have been collaborating in since 1977 but we would wait 10 years before the debut of Outskirts and the iconic "Try". Thereafter would follow some 15 albums in the next 22 years - clearly these boys have the music in them, for this doesn't even include the various solo release that they have put out. Yes, I am a fan! I adore everything that they put out as a band and as solo artists. Every release has a different feel in the music and concept of the album but the voices and the depth of meaning in the songs remain the same. Unlike so many other artists, each song is unique and stands alone in both the words and music. While the city of Ottawa may have declared Friday, March 30th as Blue Rodeo Day, in my world it is Blue Rodeo Day every day. For not a day goes by that I don't hear at least one song by my favourite band ever. 

The induction itself, I feel is a great honour for any band and was looking forward to some hoopla and fanfare during the telecast. I have to say that in the end I was a little disappointed with what was offered. While I have heard many Blue Rodeo collaborations with Sarah McLachan that I very much enjoy, I don't believe that this was the time nor the place for Sarah to be a part of the performance. It was Blue Rodeo's time and they should have been  showcased on their own. I also would have liked a more detailed and elaborate retrospect of the decades long career of the band. Perhaps some still shots and recollection of the many accomplishments. I could have seen this as a way to introduce a whole new audience to the magnitude of talent that is Blue Rodeo. 

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The Juno's are the Canadian version of the Grammy's celebrating the music from this country. I love the Juno's because there is an opportunity to learn about artists that may not have made it to the mainstream radio stations. While it is nice to see Canadian musicians experience success on the grand scale of the Grammy's because the patriotism has a chance to swell like the proud peacock thrusting out its chest, it is for me, not mandatory to prove success. This year for example, Canadian artists were all but shut out of winning any of the coveted Gramophones but they sure tore up the US Billboard charts. In fact, at one point in December, four of the five top spots in the chart were held by Canadian artists. Go Canucks! It seems that the top contenders north of the border were shut out by time not talent. Eligibility for the Grammys ends September 30th of the proceeding year and the likes of Nickelback, Fiest, Bieber and Buble all missed the cut off date. By next year these efforts may be all but forgotten with nearly a full year of new offerings coming to the plate.

Onto this years Juno telecast from the capital city of Ottawa, not the best I have ever seen sadly, William Shatner as host was okay but not great. When he did his spoken-word medley of rock classics, he should have forgone the awkwardness of having the guitar placed over his head since he didn't even do a good job of faking the playing of it and it turned into an unnecessary prop. When it came to the performances during the telecast, I thought the medley of songs by the likes of Dragonette, Alyssa Reid and Angulie were mostly sung flat and off key. The idea of the mini-showcase was a great idea though, a little teaser to introduce some of the upcoming talent. And did the entire audience suck in all the air at the Scotia Bank Place when K'naan lost his footing and ended up in the "ditch" between the stage platforms while he collaborated with Simple Plan? Sitting at home, I emitted an audible gasp for sure. Ah, but like a cat, he landed on his feet and continued on, unbeknownst to Pierre Bouvier. And I for one watched the stitled acrobats very closely during Hedley's performance to ensure they didn't suffer the same fate for I swear, one came pretty close! It was a real treat to see Hey Rosetta! perform during the show and I thought they were fabulous. My only beef with the performance of Dallas Green was the fact that I was visually drawn to the enormity of the tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of his hands and fingers to the distraction of the talent of the musician itself. But that is a reflection of my personal distaste of tattoos in general. 

The last beef that I had with the Juno's telecast was in the production itself. The secondary stage for the handing out of hardware was a good idea but seemed to fall short in that after the presentation, the winning artist didn't know what to do with the microphone left in their hands and there was confusion on how to exit the stage. On high heels and with fancy dress, it would be nice to have an escort off the stage rather than walk off into oblivion alone. This aspect may have looked better on paper than it played out on the live stage. I was also saddened by the number of nominees that couldn't be bothered to attend, in particular Justin Bieber who was busy getting slimed at the Kids Choice Awards in the US. 

I do think that we have to make a better show and a bigger deal out of the honour of winning a Juno to ensure that the artists show up to claim the hardware. As we know, it was Pierre Juneau himself who lobbied the Canadian government to ensure that Canadian artists had an shot at airtime above and beyond what the mighty dollar could pay for. It is for him that the awards celebrating the excellence in Canadian talent was named in their inception in 1970. He was instrumental in ensuring that the artists who wished to remain north of the border had a chance at success - we need to keep it going even after his death this past year. Some of the nationally published reviews of the show, threw out terms like "a giant April Fools Joke" and "the ultimate alienation of talent" because of some of the victors in the various categories. While I can't personally say that I agree with all of the choices that were made by the powers that be, I would suggest that there was better choices for album of the year than the remake of Christmas songs by Michael Buble - not that he isn't a talented musician. Of course, it goes without saying that I believe that Jim Cuddy's solo effort "Skyscraper Soul" deserved more than a passing mention. If it counts for anything, it is the best in Canadian music I heard all year! :)

As for Blue Rodeo...I'll see you boys soon! ;) So excited I can barely stand it!