Have We Done Hair Off Glasses On? (2 months)
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I’ve been having a rough week.
On the plus side, my good friend Caroline let me rant today as we walked to the hospital and back, so I’m feeling well enough to write this curse-free post.
ps. Andrea needs to care less…Andrea needs to care less…Andrea needs to care less…
I shaved for the first time today.
Never thought that’d be exciting news.
But it is.
I’m drifting these days. I’m distracted and almost dizzy. My limbs and digits are groggy and stiff.
I’m moving slowly. I’m thinking slowly.
Maybe it’s a side-effect of being drug-free.
Just when I thought it would never be safe to go back in the kitchen, look what arrived last night — out of the blue:
A review copy of The Cancer-Fighting Kitchen: Nourishing, Big-Flavor Recipes for Cancer Treatment and Recovery by Rebecca Katz and Mat Edelson.
I am so thrilled, I barely slept.
After seven months of bad food news and giving up favourites, this beautiful and brainy book brings me and my family 150 brand new science-based and scrumptious-looking recipes in more than 200 pages packed full of meaty and easily digested nutritional know-how.
Recipes are indexed by symptoms, from anemia through weight loss. A “Culinary Pharmacy” sings the specific praises of 98 common cancer-fighting foods. Tips for shopping, cooking, storing, reheating and customizing recipes are sprinkled generously throughout. Mouth-watering photos and inviting, informative preambles join prep time, cook time and fascinating facts for each carefully crafted recipe.
Soups, salads, pilafs, roasts, filets and chick pea burgers. Smoothies, salsas, creams, compotes, dips and drizzles. Custards, cookies, puddings and macaroons. All built to build bodies that give bad cells the boot.
Can you see why I couldn’t sleep?
I’ll be lugging this hardcover treasure to radiation, soaking up every word.
And drooling in the waiting room.
Stay tuned…
You can view a webcast of the Cancer-Fighting Kitchen Workshop online on specific dates in late April. Check the schedule here.
Here’s what I did today instead of my 30minute exercise tape:

Yes, there are worse things than baldness!
p.s. Can you match the tresses to the actresses I stole them from?
Today marks the fifth anniversary of Mark’s fabulous audio documentary program, Electric Sky.
And guess who’s featured.
Me!
What an honour.
You can listen in as I share my thoughts about facing breast cancer here.
Thank you, Mark, for your support, your encouragement and your pride. I love you.
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If you look super hard, you can see sparse, white(!) peach fuzz.![]() |
In my 20 years of software design and 18 years of school, I often dreamed of stepping off the treadmill and spending a day at home.
Well, I’ve been home four months now and today I’m playing hooky from that.
I skipped the 7:00-9:00 ritual of chasing children, barking orders and threats. I skipped my supplements, my juicing and my morning walk. And I’ve decided to give my whining muscles a desperately needed break from what the pre-c me would have considered an extremely light exercise routine.
I do feel frustrated by my post-chemo crash. That my right eye’s still blistered. That I can no longer jog and have two limbs seized by pain. And I do feel some guilt about calling in sick today.
But I’m going ahead with radiation and, starting Monday, daily zaps will dominate my world for at least six weeks.
So, today I’m just breathing and doing exactly as I please.
It’s funny how different — and good — it feels.
Born just one month before me, my cousin Kelly was my very first friend.
From toddlerhood through tweendom, we spent countless weekends and vacations playing, chatting, imagining and growing up.
I was painfully shy, socially inept and my family life was rocky. Kelly’s constant, generous friendship likely kept me sane.
Somewhere in our teens, though, our paths diverged. We did school, got jobs, found partners, and raised our own children to tweendom — without ever crossing paths.
Then, almost by accident and just days before I found that lump, we reconnected.
Luckily for me.
Kelly’s warmth, wit, wisdom, exuberance, understanding and support throughout this journey have been absolutely astounding. She has become the loving aunt we always craved for our girls — her beautiful children the spunky, loving cousins we thought Luba’d never have. And her super-hero husband rocks too.
We’re going to enjoy getting our grandkids to tweendom together. And lots of happy family memories until — and after — that.
Thank you to everyone who has made this week of celebration so spectacular.
There are many, many more fabulous celebrations ahead.
I didn’t opt for the regular brain MRIs and chemo brain study, so I don’t know for sure how my grey matter fared, but here’s what I’ve noticed:
If this is the extent of my impact, I’ll consider myself lucky.
Out of concern for Andrea’s health, particularly due to immune compromise during Andrea’s chemo, we haven’t gone out for dinner in about five months. That means Christmas, our anniversary, Valentine’s Day, etc… they were all at-home celebrations.
Tonight, that changed.
My parents took us to celebrate our 11th wedding anniversary and the end of Andrea’s chemo. We had a fabulous dinner at Saint-O in Ottawa’s east end. It was a meal and celebration worth the wait, and the first of what I expect to be a lifetime of celebrations.
It was particularly fitting to celebrate with my parents. They’ve been nothing short of amazing to us since Andrea’s diagnosis. They canceled a winter in Florida and kept themselves available to us at all times. The list of things they’ve done for us is long and impressive. Thank you, so much, Mom and Dad!
It felt great to be at a restaurant with Andrea (and my parents). I’ll never understand how Andrea soldiered through chemo the way she did. I’m amazingly proud of and inspired by her.

It’s Day 15 of my final round of chemo and my discernible symptoms are down to just stinging, watering, unable-to-hold-focus eyes and the unexplained patches under each.
Six more days ’til I’m out and about.
Now that chemo’s over and Andrea’s nearly completed her full recovery cycle (which means she’s about a week away from being able to be out in public without an elevated risk to her health), we can start thinking about the next stage of her cancer treatment… radiation.
We love Andrea’s radio-oncologist. He’s an incredibly nice and patient man. We experienced a remarkable trait of his during our consult with him last week; even though he may know where we’re going with a particular thought or question, he waits until we’ve finished speaking before responding. He doesn’t jump to conclusions or feel it necessary to cut short our thoughts.
Andrea will have a CT scan in the next few weeks. During that appointment, a technician will mark the two locations at which the radiation treatment will be directed. This ensures the treatment is always directed at the same spot.
Beginning in May, Andrea will have radiation treatments each weekday for six weeks. Despite the frequency and duration, radiation seems much less scary to me than did chemo. There are no meds, and no physically- or emotionally-crippling side effects.
We’ve been told to expect Andrea to feel fatigued over the course of the treatment as her body works to regenerate cells that are being killed off each day (just as it got the regeneration process underway from the previous round). We’ve also been told to expect that Andrea will present sunburn-like skin irritations and discolouration beginning in the treatment area around week four of the program.
After she powers through radiation, Andrea will begin hormone therapy. Given what we’ve been through, that’s not as far off in the future as it sounds.