Kittelberg's kancer kronicles

As you may have guessed by the headline, yep, I have cancer - breast cancer, to be precise. And yep, I've decided to purposely misspell it in my headlines and related hashtags. If you follow me on twitter (@Lori_writes), the hashtag is #kancerkronicles for the sake of brevity, and for the sake of avoiding the racist-looking triple-k.

I've been reading Kris Carr's Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips - which I highly recommend to women living with cancer, particularly young women - and she talks about misspelling cancer as a middle digit to the disease. I figure that's as good a reason as any to misspell something. Normally, I'm a spelling nazi so this is rather liberating too.

Why I'm blogging about kancer
Anyway, I've gone back and forth on the whole idea of publicly blogging about this. Ultimately, I decided that I'm going crazy without writing. All the books tell me to journal, and I figure if my writing can help someone else who is living with breast cancer, then I'd be a jerk not to make my writing accessible. So here goes.

Adios, armpit drain
Today is a rather big day for me. After two weeks and three days, I'm finally having the drain removed.

The drain consists of a tube that is running from an incision in my armpit to the lovely bottle pictured. I had lymph nodes removed, so the drain helps to get rid of fluid that would otherwise build up in my pit, along with some tissue.

You can see some of the aforementioned tissue floating in the bottle. It's been there for a while, as it's too big to fit through the exit when I empty the bottle. Charming, eh?

If I had needed more of my breast removed, I likely would have two drains. So I guess I should consider myself lucky with my only-child drain.

Words open to interpretation
Because I'm an overachiever, I completely believed I would be rid of the drain a maximum of one week post surgery. After all, another book I have been reading said most women have them for "a few days" post surgery.

As a writer who strives to use clear, plain language, I should have known better. My "few days" means three, max. Apparently my body disagrees and thinks it's two weeks and three days. Damn.

Everyone's a snowflake
And that's likely the most difficult part of dealing with this whole breast cancer thing right now. Everyone is different, so there are no definitive answers when it comes to healing.

I might be able to do chemo on my lunch breaks, then merrily skip back to work afterwards. Or I might feel like puking my guts out for a "few" days after each treatment. I might lose my hair. Or I might keep my hair, but get diarrhea or constipated.

Frankly, all this uncertainty is a pain in the ass.

Watching the movie before reading the book

It's always a hard call for me: do I read the book first or watch the movie? If I read the book first, I'm the better writer. You know, the one who cares more about literature than the quick fix a movie will give me.

But if I watch the movie first, I potentially save myself from spending two hours muttering under my breath:

"The author captured that way better."
"Why did they cut that scene?!"
"What was the screenwriter smoking?"

There are no hard and fast rules when it comes to deciding book vs. movie, or TV series as the case may be. For instance, I've read several books in The Walking Dead series. However, I started them so long ago that I don't remember them with the clarity I once did. So the TV series makes me re-read the books and I get to enjoy them again.

This question comes up because I received the first four books in the Game of Thrones collection for Christmas. The temptation is to read them all. Why not? But a friend who has read the first one warned me that I may be disappointed if I read them all before season two starts.

So for now, I'll try to stick with the first one, and read the next three books as their respective seasons end. What do you think? Do you have rules on this sort of thing?

Why I don't want an eReader for Christmas

Every year, my husband asks me for my Christmas list. The last couple of years, I have considered whether or not I want one of those newfangled eReaders. Perhaps I'm getting curmudgeonly, but I'm going to pass.

I have heard plenty about the merits of eReaders - purchasing eBooks is cheaper and they're easier to cart around than a hardcover. Meanwhile, libraries have taken a hit in the news, with many cutting their limited funds for new books in favour of eBooks. And, yes, I did read about bedbugs being found in library books.

Let me count the ways I love books
I'm still not sold. I love books. I love the feel of them. I love the smell of them, both new, and old and musty. I love sharing the books that I have enjoyed with friends. I love browsing the shelves of a bookstore and hemming and hawing over what I want (see my latest selection in the photo). I love getting second-hand books and finding the previous reader's old shopping list which was used as a bookmark.

Generational or hereditary?
Indeed, it could simply have to do with my generation. I grew up reading books, listening to records, and hearing my dad hammer out stories on his old-school typewriter.

It could also be hereditary. My dad clung to that old typewriter until his employer forced him, the last employee not on the network, to start using a computer.

Then again, maybe not. After all, I'm not afraid of technology (no offence, Dad). I work as a web writer, so wouldn't do all that well in my profession otherwise. I own a smartphone. I tweet, I Facebook, I Skype. But until further notice, I don't eRead.

Mum's the word

Right now, I'm still a mommy. But I have a feeling that will be changing soon.

Yes, technically I'll still be a mother. But my son is trying on "mom" from time to time. And I'm sad.

Last weekend, one of his best friends slept over. Though her birthday is only one month ahead of his, hers is in December, meaning she is in kindergarten. She refers to me and my husband as our son's mom and dad. Being in kindergarten means letting go of things that are considered babyish. I'm not sure when my mom ceased to be mommy, but I think it was some time between kindergarten and grade 1. And I'm pretty sure my son hears other kids use "mom" and "dad" so it's natural he'd consider calling us that.

It's that conflict of wanting my son to grow yet keep him a little boy at the same time. It's funny, I've heard other women say they hate the word "mommy" but I'm having a hard time letting go of it. I have become attached to it.

I like it when my son sees me at the end of the day and yells, "Mommy!" as he sprints across the room to hug me. And "mom" is so much easier to drag into that whiny, multi-syllabic, "Mo-om," which is usually accompanied by an eye roll.

At the same time, I don't want to be that weird, overprotective mother who forces her kid to act like a baby, becomes the overbearing mother of a teen who hides from her, and finally, becomes the monster-in-law to his significant other.

So I'll enjoy being mommy while I can and hopefully, mom will grow on me when the time comes.

Tell your story

A friend of mine shared this on Facebook. Thought it was worth sharing here.

We all have our own truth. If someone doesn't agree with the way you represent yours, it really doesn't matter. Tell your story in your words and in your way.

Remembering on Remembrance Day

This is Frank and Isabella Dill, my grandparents. Grandpa was in the Navy during WWII. He never talked about it to me. Even my mom says he didn't say much about his experience in the war, other than to say that it was a waste of life. He didn't get dressed up every Remembrance Day to take part in a parade. He didn't head to the Legion to raise a glass to friends long gone. I'm pretty sure the war had a huge impact on him nonetheless.

During the war, Grandma worked in Halifax, giving paycheques to sailors. She too has said little about her experience. I do know she made friends there and I remember visiting one friend with her when I was a child and lived in Halifax. She didn't do parades either.

Everyone remembers differently. And even though my grandparents weren't about remembering in a public way, I'm certain their experiences during the war helped form the people they became. So today, I think of my grandparents, in addition to my friends who have served, and those who never returned.

Does letter-writing make a difference?

If we're friends on Facebook or you follow me on Twitter, you know how angry I was to hear that BC is significantly cutting nurse visits to new moms and their babies.

My interest in this cause is a personal one. The nurse who visited me and my son our first full day home from the hospital came just in the nick of time. We'd had a terrible night of him screaming at me because I had no milk. She helped me immensely in figuring out the whole breastfeeding thing when I was a sleep-deprived, emotional mess.

Not only that, but Cara followed up with me and told me she would come back and visit any time I needed her to. A lucky coincidence was she ended up being one of the nurses who came to the mom and baby drop-in session at the local community centre. Eventually, I was diagnosed with postpartum depression (PPD). Though it wasn't caught in that home visit (I was good at hiding it), being able to talk to Cara was critical to my feeling I was able to open up to my family doctor about the challenges I was having.

Cara was a huge support to us and I don't think I could ever thank her enough. I'm worried that these cuts will mean women give up on breastfeeding and wait longer than they need to to get the help they need for PPD.

Time to act

So with all this in mind, I looked to find out what I could do. I tweeted a CBC radio show that asked for people's reactions. I found out a Facebook group had been created. Supporters of the nurse visit program were encouraged to write to the premier and their MLA, so I wrote a letter telling them my story. I added Minister of Children and Family Development Mary McNeil and NDP critic Claire McNeil to the list for good measure.

So far? Only one form response from the premier's office.

The premier's office response

"Thank you for your email regarding the Healthy Start program. We appreciate the time you have taken to express your views on the subject. As you are aware, government is reviewing the perinatal and child public health services offered by public health nurses, and other care providers, across the province as a component of the Healthy Start pillar of the Healthy Families BC strategy. Our focus is to support all mothers and babies in having a healthy pregnancy, giving all children a good start in life and supporting a healthy future.

As part of the overall Healthy Start program, which is available to all mothers, government is introducing the Nurse-Family Partnership (NFP). This program will offer more intensive care, time and resources to low income, young, first time mothers from second trimester through to when their baby is two years of age. Evidence clearly shows that it is the only nurse home visiting program with a wide and varied range of strong positive outcomes for mothers and children. (emphasis mine - Lori)

Government has a responsibility to make sure public health resources are used effectively to support all families with ongoing or episodic care needs- including those who would benefit the most from intensive follow up. We want to assure you the Minister of Health and his staff are working closely with health authorities, physicians and public health nurses to help ensure the program has no unintended impacts.

Thank you again for being in touch. We are always looking for ways to improve programs and policies and your feedback helps us in that process."

My response
In other words, they likely read the subject line of my letter and nothing else. They told me nothing new and they didn't respond to my concerns, namely, how will they ensure that more women don't give up on breastfeeding, or let their PPD go undiagnosed and untreated.

The writer emphasized the "wide and varied range of strong positive outcomes for mothers and children" in the home visit program. So if there are such positive results, how can this be the right place to make cuts? They didn't say.

So I basically feel like writing my letter and actually giving a shit was a giant waste of my time.

Where do I go from here?

What are my options now?

1. Give up.
2. Respond to their letter and call them on not answering my questions.
3. Find other means of making my voice heard - no idea what these are.

Do mothers need to occupy something, perhaps the premier's office? I'm tired and I'm running out of ideas. I want someone to tell me what to do.