No Words

3. 

28, 27, 25.

36.

The first number is how many of my friends have died from a different form of young cancer in exactly that many months. 

The second set of numbers are their ages. 

The third number is how many days I have spent in the past months in hospital myself fighting a battle against the cancer that is trying to take over my spine. 

I came to the hospital on October 8 2014 and began writing a much different blog post. Today as I find out through yet another facebook post that an aquaintance of mine was stolen far too young I sit here and write with a much different tune. 

I was just awaken at 6am for one of my new meds. I awoke excited. Halloween. One of my favourite days of the year and I get to spend the weekend at home, surrounded by family, before returning back to the hospital on Sunday evening. 

I awoke with a stiffness in my back. Something that annoys me as it doesn't seem to be going away. It's supposed to go away...I thought. But suddenly that stiffness in my back...and the fact that my leg is slowly beginning to weaken don't seem as life threatening in comparison to the fact that I guess I'm still here unlike these friends I am no longer able to talk to. 

It's 7am. November. I'm home now. Back to reality I guess. Except what is my reality? Can I walk more than a block? Can I drive? Can I go anywhere alone? For how long? I don't know. Every day is a new learning curve. Cancer has taken so much and will continue to take more. And this is scary. But what is more scary are those numbers I mentioned earlier.

Our age group is dying. And we're not getting the treatments we need. 

This post is called no words because I just can't seem to find the ones that truly magnify the seriousness and heartbreak of this all. 

As you go about your days remember this. Chances are what you're facing is minor compared to the three mothers and fathers grieving the loss of their children. 

Unfair.

Unthinkable.

Unavoidable. 

A Post For All Who Want To Help - Super Important!

It's been a while since I've posted yet again. Let's call it lack of inspiration. 

Inspiration hit me recently when speaking to a friend. This friend was genuinely offering me support and wanted to do something for me to make my cancery life easier. This is something a lot of you ask me often. "What can I do for you? Is there anything I can do to help?"

I decided to be honest with this friend, and I have decided to be honest with all of you. While I truly appreciate these offers of food, asking to help me with housework, sharing some fancy new cure you heard about, and everything else you wonderful people offer, I have to admit they actually become a little bit frustrating. Again, I know these gestures are sincere and come from a good place. But my cancer is life long. I may live 10 years, I may live 50, hell I may even live 1. No matter how long I'm around, I would like to spend whatever time I have left living as normally as possible. I mean, do you plan on still asking me how I am feeling in 4 years? Can you imagine if everyone you knew asked you every single day a question that basically reminded you that you were dying? It sucks. If my cancer was temporary and  I had some hope of beating it, than it would be quite different. Unfortunately for me I am aware that my tumours will never go away. This isn't me having a bad attitude, this is just fact. It's hard to accept but we all have to. 

So what can you do for me? It's quite simple really. All I ask is that you treat me as normally as possible. Exactly how you treated me pre cancer. This means never uttering the phrase, "how are you feeling?" to me. For my own mental health I have decided to stop responding to all texts that say this unless I have not told you previously not to ask. If I have not told you then I will politely respond to you by asking you not to ask me this anymore. However, if you know not to ask then in my opinion you are not respecting me or my wishes and you do not deserve a reply. Instead, why not ask me normal people things like, "hey Kayla, how's things? How's your non existent love life? How's your new puppy"? These kinds of questions would be awesome. I don't want to hear questions about my tumours, my treatments, or what's happening in my cancery world. If I want to talk about these things, let ME bring them up. Please. Just allow me that. 

So. There you have it. This is all I ask. I don't think it's asking a lot. I really hope a lot of you read this particular post and I intend to over post it to get the word out to as many of you as possible. It's my hope that this will drastically improve my stress levels and my quality of life within my social relationships. I want to thank all of you in advance for respecting my request and understanding my position.

You're all rock stars...just not as big a rock star as me 😉

The Truth

Incurable. INCURABLE. Iiiiiincuraaabllleeee. The word just keeps rolling off my tongue. Consumes my mouth. Fills it. But what does it mean exactly?

Unable to cure.
Chronic.
Forever.
Not going away.
Always there.
Killing me.
                            Every.
                                               Single.
                                                                 Day.

Welcome to my life. This thought owns me. Especially lately. I thought I had become an expert at living 'day to day'. This is what I tell everyone anyways when constantly bombarded with the question of how I am handling everything. I smile and explain that I am just taking things day to day. Which is really just an optimistic way of saying that I simply neglect to think about my mortality or the fact that tomorrow may hold another poor prognosis. Living day to day is no way to live. It is just a means of surviving what life throws at you without actually feeling or living any of it. One might think it means living in the present. Being of present thinking and living in the now - how very New Age. 

But here is the truth. The truth is that every day in theory I get a little bit closer to dying. Everyday I am left untreated the cancer continues to grow and find new ways to thrive. Worse, every day I feel a little less healthy emotionally and mentally. Every day I simply survive rather than live I feel a little more empty. Numb.

This feeling is only magnified as I am again forced to stay at home. Unable to drive lately or even climb the stairs. My life is taken from me yet again. I am used to being in school, working two jobs, having a busy schedule. Now, with only one semester left after busting my ass in university for four and a half years, I am again forced to leave school. Instead I get to spend my days on the couch watching endless amount of Netflix and box sets my friends lend me. The pain is too bad to go back to work. I am too emotionally fucked up to focus on school. I have no kids. No one to care for. No purpose. At least that's how it feels. 

I feel...lost. I see support groups for people dealing with the loss of a loved one and I think, what happens when you lose yourself? How do you mourn then? The better question is, why are we not allowed to mourn our loss without our family members jumping in and telling us to "stay strong"..."try not to think too much about it"... "this is just one more bump in the road".

Well how many "bumps" can one person handle?

Get Ready To Take Some Notes...

Where to begin. It has been weeks since I have had it in me to write. The state of my affairs is messy and to be quite honest I avoid thinking about my life as much as possible. It is as though thinking about the tumor that forever sits in my abdomen, feeding off of my blood vessel, will actually exist if I so much as think of the word 'cancer'. Sitting here writing about it is not easy, but in doing so I think it is a step towards healing.

I will warn you, however, that this blog is not intended to spark some intrinsic motivation within you nor is it intended to be inspiring. Instead, I would like to provide those who read this with a guide of how to talk to someone with cancer without coming off as a total asshole. Now this blog may piss a few of you off as you read the words and think, "hey! I do that!" If that is the case...too fucking bad for you. Hopefully you will take note and better yourself. I have withheld for nearly two years from saying what I really feel on this topic and to be honest I just don't give a fuck anymore :) so without further adieu, here are my tips for what to do/what not to do when chatting with a cancer warrior.

Number One: This is by far the most important rule. If you should choose to read this and remember nothing else or think that I am a lunatic and you are in fact an expert on the whole cancer situation, please remember this one thing. STOP. FUCKING. ASKING. US. HOW. WE. FEEL. I'm not sure exactly why this is people's favorite god damn sentence on the planet, but on behalf of cancer patients everywhere, STAHP. I have never in my life approached somebody and said, "Hey! Long time no see! How are the kids? Also, how are you feeling?" You know why? Because it is awkward as fuck. Imagine for a second saying it to someone without cancer. No, seriously imagine it. Role play that shit out. See how ridiculous you sound?

Also, the truth is, when you ask me this you are either going to get an, "oh I'm fine" which is a lie, or you're going to get the truth. The truth, ladies and gents, is never what you really want to hear. Because when I tell you the truth you have no idea how to respond. Asking me this question is annoying because you turn me into either a liar by making me fake how amazing I am, or into a whiner which is not who I want to be. Just assume that I am feeling fine unless I tell you otherwise. Because really, I'm not feeling amazing. But I'm also not in agony. I lie somewhere in between and every time you ask me how I'm feeling I am forced to remember that things could, in fact, be better in my cancery Universe.

On top of it being extremely awkward, it is also extremely rude. When you send me these text messages or Facebook messages or when you see me in person and ask me this, do you ever for one second stop to think that maybe I am not somewhere I feel like discussing it? That this is not what I want to think about when I'm at practicum or when I am enjoying time with my family or friends? It demonstrates that you have no consideration for what I could possibly be doing and the fact that maybe I don't have time to be sad at that particular moment. Just because you want to discuss it, doesn't mean I am somewhere that I can. If you really care about me than all I ask is that you treat me normally. Speak to me as you would anyone else. If I feel like chatting about my cancer, I will. If I don't, I won't. And guess what? It's my fucking story so I will share it, or not share it when I feel like it! Treating me normally allows me the choice and the dignity of saving face about my cancer and is much more effective in preventing you from looking like a dickhead in my eyes.

A quick summary: "Hey Kayla! How are you feeling?" will result in a loud groan and possibly a swift kick in the shins. This is UNACCEPTABLE.

"Hey Kayla! How's life? Heard you were dating Ryan Gosling? That's awesome! How's your practicum??" is PERFECT. This results in you being a normal person and likely someone I will actually want to talk to. High five!

Number Two: Stop complimenting our toques, hats, headscarves, etc. You sound like a jackass. I am aware I have no hair. Unless I am wearing something really unique on my head (like a mini tiger or something you'd see on an episode of Sex And The City) you do not need to overcompensate and make conversation this way. Complimenting our bald look will go a lot further if you're trying to flatter us. However, DO NOT compliment our baldness unless you are genuine. Because trust me, we can tell when you're full of shit. It's okay to think I look like garbage without hair! Hell, maybe you thought I looked like garbage WITH hair! There is no need for any talk on this subject. All it does it shows me how uncomfortable I make you feel and automatically puts up an emotional brigade between us. I never usually walk up to someone and tell them how amazing they look in a typical conversation unless they are dressed up or something. So why do you feel the need to compliment me now when chances are you never did so in the past when I had hair? I'm bald. I get it. Now let's move on.

Number Three: I cannot stress this enough. Cancer patients are not 'heroes'. We are just normal people who happened to get hit with a little bit of bad luck. Sure some handle their cancer in ways that are maybe more 'inspiring' to you people. Some people put on their adult ginchies and go through cancer with a big smile on their face, plastering your newsfeed with motivational quotes and cancer ribbons. Others endure their journey by lying around pissed off and feeling like the world has dealt them a shitty deck of cards, barely lifting themselves off their beds to take a shower. Well I have some news for all of you. No matter how anyone chooses to go through their personal cancer journey, they are doing it just fine. If they want to be sad they have every fucking right to be sad. Because guess what? They have cancer. And cancer fucking sucks. You have no right to judge them for being down or negative. As for those who go through it with a smile and a positive outlook? They are not heroes. They are people who were forced to handle having cancer and were given no choice. They had no choice in undergoing treatment. They had no choice having their bodies pumped full of poison. They had no choice in any of it. They are not the super human you build them up to be. I am no more inspiring than you would be if you were dealt the unfortunate news of having cancer. You too would be left with no choices, forced to either comply with what the doctors say or die. When those are your only two options, it is fairly simple to become one of these 'heroes' you all speak of.

I must also ask what happens to those who go through cancer without this motivational attitude you all love so much? Are they not heroes? And what happens to the fighters who lose their battle? Does that make them any less of a hero than those who fought and won? Beating cancer isn't about your attitude or how inspiring you are throughout your journey. It's about your body and how it responds to treatment. Simple as that. Some people are able to beat it and some are not. It has nothing to do with attitude as much as you like to think and hope and pray that it does. It is my opinion that people like to believe beating a killer disease like cancer happens with a positive attitude because it scares the shit out of them to think of the alternative. It's fucking scary to think that even with a positive attitude and all the right motivation you may still end up six feet under from this disease. Trust me, that scared me too at first. But as my journey with cancer continues I have learned that despite a positive attitude, my cancer continues to thrive. Don't get me wrong, the positivity thing helps me cope a lot better sure. But it's not a cure and anyone who believes that your mind can beat cancer is seriously doing an injustice to all of us who are already dealing with so much. To place the blame of cancer upon the patient is not only cruel, it's ignorant. It is sad when you build us up as heroes. Putting us on a pedestal that can in the end leave us feeling disappointed in ourselves and to blame for something we have no control over.

While we appreciate the sentiment that we are inspiring to you, on behalf of cancer fighters everywhere I can assure you that we all politely say thank you, and then discreetly roll our eyes and later on journal about how ridiculous we feel when we are called that. Telling us we are resilient or badass goes a lot further than calling us heroes ever would.


Number Four - The FINAL Point: Please, for the love of all things cheesy and bad for me, stop telling me how to cure myself, how to eat, and what to do with my life. While I understand that all of these remedies come from a place of genuine caring, there is a reason they are not used to cure cancer. If drinking ten cups of puréed broccoli cured cancer, people would do it. Most of these remedies that you all see on Facebook and then randomly send to me are not actually cures. You never actually take the time to research them. You just see "HERB/TEA/ROTTEN BANANA KILLS 98% OF CANCER!!!!!" and suddenly my wall, inbox and phone are blown up with links (because trust me, you're not the only one who sent it. Chances are I already saw it weeks ago from someone else). Trust me, I believe in alternative medicine. It helps with a lot of symptoms and can also improve quality of life. But they do not cure cancer as much as you and I would like them to. Not to mention, do you honestly think I haven't looked into cures? Do you think I am so unaware of my health that I can't do my own research? It is almost insulting having you send me all of these tips and so called cures like you're some kind of god who is going to cure me.

Which brings me to my next point. What is even more insulting is when you message me randomly after not seeing me for years and say things like "stay positive!" or "doctors will help!" I've been dealing with this for almost two years. You've known for 30 seconds. I was staying positive before this chat. Now the only thing I'm positive about is that I want to punch you in the throat. Unless you have physically had cancer yourself or been in a caregiving situation with someone who has, it is very unlikely I wish to hear your opinions on it. Saying things to me like, "you should go out and socialize more, it's good for your healing to be out" will not only guarantee that I do not attend your event, but also that I will likely not want to speak with you again. As well, and this is common with all of my cancer warrior friends, STOP ASKING US OUT FOR COFFEE. Did we ever go for coffee before? No? Well, then why start now? This whole coffee gesture is one of two things. It is either a way to help you relieve your guilt at not being closer with me before, or is a way to get information so you can gossip about it to people we both know. If we were not friends before there is no need to start now. I still go for coffee with the people I always have, but I feel no need to suddenly go for coffee twenty times a week with the people who are not talking to me with genuine intentions. I became the most popular person ever once diagnosed with cancer. People who never spoke a word to you suddenly want to take you out. Co workers who hated you are suddenly phoning. Yet somehow you become the asshole when you decline their offers to go for coffee because they do not realize that you have twenty other messages in your inbox asking you the same question. Remember this please the next time you speak to your acquaintance/friend/co worker/lover with cancer. If they were an acquaintance before, it is perfectly acceptable that they remain one now. If they were less than that, than leaving them there is great too. Offering your condolences or best wishes is kind, but leave it at that. They do not need anymore tips on juicing or invites for coffee. Sometimes the best thing you can do is simply respect their space.


In the end I could have written about ten more points on this subject. To be honest I am fully aware of how hard it is speaking to someone with an illness, never mind a terminal one. Prior to my diagnosis I was not nearly as informed as I am now. Granted I had already had traumatic experiences with cancer and was more informed than some. I empathize with those who have been blessed and have not had such experiences and are subsequently left blissfully ignorant of what I face daily in my cancery world. They are lucky and I hope they never have to learn these things the way I have. But if this post can help save even a few relationships from an awkward moment than my job is complete. What it comes down to when speaking to anyone with cancer is pretty simple; Let us live as normal of a life as possible. Treat us as you would anyone else. If we choose to open up to you or ask for something than you can go from there. But remembering our dignity and our personal privacy is so important. Our lives have been taken from us and often many of us feel like we have no control over anything. Respecting us enough to remember that we have control over how or when we choose to speak about our cancer is so important.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this long winded post! I hope I still have a few friends left after, and truthfully, hope that some of the phonies will bugger off. Please know that I do genuinely appreciate all the kindness so many of you send my way. I promise to keep the next one shorter and less intense :)

An Update

I will start by saying thank you to everyone who listened and respected that I needed some time to process everything. As much as I love and appreciate all of the support there are days when talking about everything just does me more harm than good.

So where do I start? As I said the cancer has continued to spread. What started off as three small tumours has spread into the bone and vertebrae in my lower back. Two of the tumours in my abdomen are gone, but the tumour that started this all will not respond to chemo. Radiation is no longer an option for it as it's already been radiated. Surgery has also already been tried and would put me at major risk. The chemo we tried was not able to destroy the tumour. I will now be doing radiation for the back portion and will hopefully be offered a clinical trial to try and treat the tumour in my abdomen.

As you can imagine this is some of the scariest news I have ever received. If a clinical trial is not available....I don't even want to think about what happens then. Basically we are out of options at this point. Because I have already had 25 rounds of radiation to my abdomen it is impossible to radiate there again. I am still unable to process this is in any meaningful way. After enduring what I have for so long I am just feeling very let down. After all my perseverance there comes a point where it begins to get really hard to stay positive. I am not sure if I am just supposed to start preparing for the worst or continue being hopeful to just be let down again and again.

Unfortunately this post doesn't have much feeling behind it. I am struggling to find meaning in something that has so tragically stolen a lot of my entire existence. I am hopeful that soon the pain will be gone and I can hopefully go back to work to maintain some sort of a life. My oncologist has said that school is not a good option at this point so with two days left of what should be my final semester ever I am again forced to delay my education. This time maybe forever. This also means the position I was likely going to be offered at my dream job in April is also being taken away from me.

This illness has consumed my life since 2012 and I am heart broken that I am forced to spend my new year and my 23rd birthday having more treatments. I am finding it difficult to look at this in a positive way at the moment. With cancer there are four main areas of general gradual decline; the diagnosis, the recurrence, clinical trials, and then finally...the end. We have reached the third level. Damn close to the end. After everything this cancer has remained smarter than us and continues to find ways to thrive. Our only hope at this point is alternative treatments and that is fucking horrifying. Should there be none or none that work...well we know what happens then.

This post is not to look for sympathy or worse, pity. I feel as though it is important for my friends and followers to know as this is quite heavy news. I am scared. I am petrified actually. But I am able to carry on each day a little better. At the end of the day the cancer is here no matter what. And if I only have a short time left on this earth then I choose to spend it having fun and laughing with those I love. 

That's all that I really have at the moment. Hopefully in the next few weeks I can process this all a little better. I am focusing all of my energy right now on sending out good vibes into the Universe in the hopes that a miracle happens. Thanks to all for your continued support and I will be sure to keep everyone updated as things change in the next few weeks.  

Just Your Typical Christmas Post

I'm feeling inspired. I'm feeling inspired to write about...I'm not quite sure. My life maybe. Or maybe the fact that I am still able to have one. Last year at this time I was being released from the hospital. I weighed slightly over 100 pounds and was strongly advised to begin taking an anti-depressant. The cancer was gone but at the time it felt like my spirit was to. Instead of being grateful that I even got to celebrate Christmas I hoped and prayed to just stop existing. Because really what's the point of breathing when you're not really living?

This year the cancer is back but my spirit is alive. And kicking. And dancing. It's dancing like it's had one too many actually. Although I am not 100% as I sit and write this I am happy to be here. Genuinely happy to be a part of the Universe that I believe some crazy divine entity has created. I have been blessed with many who love me. My circle is small, but meaningful. The thought of leaving any of these amazing people makes me literally want to puke.

I am often in pain and there are days when I feel like whoever created me has given me too much garbage for one life time. Days when I think the Universe has been unjust in the cards it has dealt me. I have truly lived more than many double my age. I have dealt with so much loss and so much dysfunction in my 22 years that there are days I honestly believe I was put on this planet as some sadistic satisfaction to an unholy spirit. I do not mean to sound dramatic or whiny. But this is my blog and I can say whatever the fuck I want. The point is, this Christmas has reminded me of something that I have been forgetting lately. It has reminded me to always remember the little things that matter. The things that no matter how hard things get always make me smile. Things like my Dad surprising me at the hospital. Or my Mom making my favourite dinner when I visit. Or waking up to the amazing good morning texts I receive every day. Or mine and Betty's inside jokes. Or my friends surprising me with flowers. You get the point. The list goes on and on. I have forgotten that these are the things that truly matter. The moments where I am so full of love I feel like it should explode out of my ears.

I hope that this Christmas you felt that way. I hope that you felt so warm and fuzzy you actually thought maybe you had a fever. I hope you continue to feel this way and I hope you never forget to remember the little things. Merry Christmas to everyone who is bored enough to read this - May the Universe bring you health, happiness and love in the new year.

The Common Denominator

Since being diagnosed with near stage 2 cancer last year I have built a rather substantial network of support within the young adult cancer community. I like to think of myself as a bit of an advocate for those I know in Edmonton and have supported quite a few people on their own journey through this disease. When I was diagnosed I initially found no support. I had not told my friends, except about four of them, and the only people at my cancer center who had what I had were about fifty years old. People would constantly run up to me and say things like, “Oh, my aunt has that” or, “my grandma had that, don’t worry she’s fine.” While I am sad that your family member, coworker, person you met once on a street has cancer, their age kind of doesn’t apply to my situation. Losing ovary function at the age of fifty is extremely different than losing it at the age of twenty one. But I digress.

Since then I have united with a huge network of people my own age with cancer. People who literally understand everything that I go through. I have even had the pleasure and the honor of attending Stupid Cancer’s OMG Summit in good ol’ Viva Las Vegas! If you don’t know what Stupid Cancer is and are interested, feel free to check them out online or on facebook. They are an amazing organization who have changed my life and I urge any young person facing cancer to reach out and see what they have to offer. Young Adult Cancer Canada (YACC) is another amazing organization who also have plenty to offer for my Canadian homies. Both of these organizations have introduced me to plenty of amazing friends from both Canada and the United States. They have allowed me to connect with people similar to me and have made my journey that much easier.

My point of this post, however, is not to share how wonderful my network of support is (although they are. They really are). It is to shed light on a common issue I have observed since finding this network. I first noticed it in Vegas at my conference, but since have witnessed it a thousand times over here at home. All of us young cancer warriors, myself included, absolutely love, with all of our heart and souls, to the moon and back kind of love; our prescription drugs. Prior to being diagnosed I prided myself on being extremely natural. Being the dirty hippie I am, as my family so lovingly calls me, I did not even like taking a Tylenol for extreme migraines. I used herbs and natural remedies to shake off a cold. Smelling like garlic I would drown myself in teas and honey, refusing to let any nasty manmade substance fight my symptoms for me. Even in the first few months of my cancer treatments I would throw out my prescribed pain killers. Having suffered with an addictive personality in the past I was hesitant to allow any sort of narcotic to again enter my body. This all changed with my first dose of morphine. After suffering with an undiagnosed infection for a solid month I was rushed to the hospital. When I arrived the doctors asked me what I was taking for pain. I told them I took Tylenol on occasion but otherwise had been using a heat bag to try and calm the pain. I had actual burn marks where the heat bag had been overused. I have a high threshold for pain. So high, in fact, that the doctors told me that what I was suffering from was a cyst larger than a grapefruit which had literally shifted all of the internal organs in my abdomen. I had been living with this over a month….without pain killers. Needless to say they injected me with morphine within minutes. Ten minutes later I was on cloud nine. I had never felt so amazing. Thus began my journey, actually, thus began my struggle with prescription medication.

This is not just my story. When in Vegas I witnessed young cancer warriors popping valiums like they were sour patch kids. When I complained of not being able to sleep, everyone suddenly popped three different kinds of pills into my hands. Pills for waking up, pills for numbing throughout the day, and pills to fall asleep at night. White pills, blue pills, pills as big as my head! Zazu from the Lion King would have been impressed. It was a junkie’s heaven. And why the hell not? Why shouldn’t they be allowed to do whatever it takes to avoid the constant pain they feel? These pills help not only with the excruciating physical pain, but also with the emotional pain. This post is not to place blame or judgment upon my peers. But rather shed awareness on an issue that is slowly but surely taking over our lives.  

My question to you all, and also to myself is; what happens when the cancer is over? What happens when we can no longer justify to our doctors the need for the pills we so dearly love and rely on? At the end of the day an addiction is an addiction. The problem with prescription medication is that it is so easily justified. People allow you to take them and even encourage them. The expression, “why suffer when you don’t have to” is thrown around without even the slightest consideration of risk. While some hide their use, others throw it out there in what I believe is an attempt at seeking help. To those battling with this currently, and if this hits a little too close to home, I urge you to consider seeking help before it is too late. If you are still not ready to reach out or do not think that there is even a problem that is OK to. We move through this terrible disease at our own pace. It is only my intention in this post to help make you aware that this problem exists. Sometimes we become so wrapped up in our cancer comas that we do not pay attention to other trivial problems. Fighting for our lives takes precedence over anything else. I just worry that for some, by the time cancer becomes a memory, they will be faced with an addiction that will greatly impact their ability to find their ‘new normal’.

Pay attention to your habits. Be honest with yourself. Help can be found easily online or within our AYA community. Reach out, get educated and most importantly, don’t beat yourself up – you’re still a fucking warrior.

What I've Learned This Year

This year has been a series of ups and downs for me. Obviously my recurrence being the greatest down of all. This post is not about that though. Instead, it's about the most important thing that I have learned for myself in 2013. Like everything else in my life though it partially relates back to my illness. Without it I cannot honestly say that I would have taken the time to reflect as I have. Often we take for granted our lives and don't willingly spend time analyzing our patterns or our behaviours. This is especially true for me. I would love to sit and tell you that I have always been the whimsical character you know and love (HA!) but it would be total bullshit. Truth is it was not until a few years ago that I was literally forced to look at my life and finally realize; I was doing shit all wrong. I was selfish. Narcissistic. Mean. Vindictive. But most of all, I was angry. Really fucking angry. In trying to stick to my topic the details of this anger and the path it set me on are not relative. Perhaps one day I can explore that objectively. For now I choose to reflect on my past as simply that; my past. Whatever brought on my anger brought along a slew of problems. Relationships with my loved ones suffered, my work suffered, and almost every area of my life was hindered by this constant jaded attitude. When I finally began to reflect and work on this it opened my eyes to how much of life I had been missing. When I got diagnosed, it did so even more. But, like most human beings, I am a masochist and complete glutton for punishment. I could not possibly learn from my mistakes quite yet. It has not been until this year, maybe even this hour, that I have finally learned one of the best things I believe should be passed onto you all. STOP TAKING THOSE YOU LOVE AND THOSE WHO LOVE YOU FOR GRANTED.

I can hold a grudge. Not for a few hours, or even a few days. I mean...I can hold a fucking grudge. In my defense these grudges always stem from a place of deep hurt. Anger always claims the grudge, but as I know now, anger is always a secondary emotion to something much deeper. When you're angry you are actually hurt, scared, sad, embarrassed....the list goes on and on. What I have learned this year though is that I have wasted so much valuable time without the people I care about. Time that I am just not guaranteed. When I think back over the summer and over my life and the people who I chose to stop speaking to over stupid fights, or because I thought they would hurt me I realize how many fucking moments of fun and love I missed out on. The people who love you unconditionally should be able to rely on you to be there through good times and bad if you also love them unconditionally. Fights will always happen. People will always say the wrong things. But being able to forgive, move on and make it work saves so much time and energy that is otherwise wasted being angry.

If I could go back in time and reclaim those lost moments, I would. Unfortunately we are not given that opportunity. If we are, however, given the opportunity to have these people in our lives again we should take full advantage. Treat them well. You just never know if this might be your last chance to learn from your mistakes. While we should all forgive and move past, we should also remember that at some point someone is not going to stick around forever if you continue to treat them badly. I am grateful that those in my life have given me second chances and I intend to spend all the rest of whatever moments I have left with them making sure they know they matter.

So. That's it. That's all I got. It is my hope that in reading this you choose not to make the same mistakes I have. I hope that it does not take something huge such as losing someone invaluable to you to make you realize they mattered.

Should I end this with a Namaste? Kidding.

The Boy with the Panther Tattoo

In December 2012 I broke someone's heart. Now, before you get all high and mighty on yourself for thinking I am high and mighty on MYself let me explain.

When I was diagnosed with cancer in August 2012 shortly after I began seeing someone I believed that was it for me. I thought no man alive would ever allow such a burden to consume their life. I broke the news to him that I was sick. Damaged. Forgetting the fact that my life was already in crisis when he met me. But that's a story for later.

He accepted the news with open arms. I wondered at the time if he accepted it on the basis of guilt. Did he think he would be considered an insensitive prick for breaking up with the cancer girl? Or was he just raised so god damned well that he would be willing to sit with me through the hardest journey of my life when he had not even known me for six months? Regardless of why he did it - he did. Even when I did everything in my power to push, shove, claw, and scream my way out of it. I tried scaring him; "I'm probably just going to die, you know." I tried giving him reasons; "You should be living a normal life with someone else." I even tried losing so much weight I looked like a fourteen year old boy before puberty (just kidding, I lost the weight because of brachytherapy - yay cancer!). Whatever I did, he stayed. Not only did he stay, he was like a fucking savior. When I was tired, he put me to bed. Hungry? He cooked. Amazingly well. When I was in the hospital he stayed there every single night on a fold out couch to make sure that I had someone to help me take a piss in the middle of the night. He helped me bathe when I physically could not stand up. He dressed me in hospital gowns, careful to avoid all the stitches and tubes sticking out of my abdomen. He did not miss one single chemo appointment and would dive into any nurse, doctor, dietician, physiotherapist, or stupid hospital student who even uttered the words 'negative prognosis'. My dad called him my pitbull. He was the man you heard about in books and movies but never the man I thought I would be lucky enough to have love me.

In December I awoke from what I call my 'cancer coma'. Suddenly after enduring four months of hell on earth I began to see the light again. I was ready to go back to work. I wanted to travel. I could finally even have sex again! Things were falling back into place. Suddenly I wanted my life back. All of it. I wanted everything it could offer me and I wasn't going to waste a single second of it. Four months may not seem like a long hiatus, but for someone who worked three jobs, attended full time university, and spent every weekend finding any adventure I could manipulate my way into, four months felt like a life time. Suddenly my relationship seemed like a burden. It reminded me of everything I was stuck facing while I was off being cancery.  Every time I looked into his amazing blue eyes I no longer saw the man who took care of me in my time of struggle. Instead, I saw doctors telling me that I was barren. I saw a drain bag hooked up to my pelvis full of blood. I no longer smelled his scent. Instead I smelled the radiation burning into my stomach day after day while I laid there, exposed on a metal table for any doctor who should decide they wanted to take a look. Kissing him made me taste chemo; metallic, acidic and poisonous.

My knight in shining armor became a mirror that reflected back onto me everything that I hated and so desperately wanted to forget. It was then that I decided to end things.

A year later as I finally have the lady balls to look back and reflect on the situation I will not regret the decision that I made. Should he ever have the chance to read this, or should I ever be given the opportunity to speak with him I would pounce on the opportunity to say that I am sorry, but not for the reason you would think. He and I were not meant to be. Despite his amazing testament and loyalty to me we were not soul mates. Whatever the hell that means. I believe to this day that some Divine force placed us together at that moment in time as a lesson to the both of us. Without him my struggle would have undeniably been worse. I am not sure what lesson he learned from me, but I hope often that it is not one of regret or remorse. I've gotten off topic. If I could apologize to him for one thing, it would be that I am sorry for allowing my illness to romanticize our relationship. I knew better from the start, but because of my own thirst and need I allowed myself to take advantage of his compassion. I allowed him to fill a void inside me that I should have filled myself.

For the first time in my life I believe I now know how he felt when I cold heartedly decided to end things. Until recently I always believed that I knew how shitty break ups were. The truth is until last year I never truly appreciated what it meant to love unconditionally. He taught me that. He taught me that it is possible. Recently I believe that I felt the way he felt when I left him and it opened my eyes. No longer will I make romantic promises of marriage, babies, or his and her matching towels if I am not 100% sure that I mean it. It can be fun to do these things. To speak about the future as though words are promises. However, as I recently learned, when you're serious about these things and the other is not, it is absolutely devastating when it comes to an end. You are left hanging with a huge WHY over your head. Why did you even talk about these things if you weren't serious? Why is it so easy for you to walk away? Why promise to be around and then leave? We have all done this. Joked about wedding cakes and who in the wedding party is destined to fuck after the reception. But I am here to say, STOP. Don't do it. Not unless you are beyond sure that you intend to stick with this person through anything. We owe each other this empathy. At some point we all have our hearts broken. It is our responsibility in the trials of love to simply remember that we are not all that different from one another. Remember that time someone ripped your heart out of your chest, shoved anal beads in it and then set it on fire? Yeah, that sucked didn't it? Lets all do our best to not do that to someone else. Treat other peoples hearts how you would want your own to be treated.

Oh, and to the boy with the panther tattoo....Thank you.

Where the fuck do I start?

Well as this is my first blog post ever I don't suppose I have a real style or voice. I have been wanting to write one for over a year now but unfortunately I enjoy naps, TV shows and hiding from my thoughts more. Many of you have asked me to share some of my story and while I have always been intrigued I suppose I always questioned why anyone in their right mind would be interested in reading a story like mine. It is then that I remember that most of you are NOT in your right minds, and I dig that.

 

I plan to use this blog as means of processing the demons inside my head while hopefully making you think about yours as well. Maybe together we can process all of our secret little skeletons and find that magical feeling of peace everyone talks about. Or maybe we can just get really high together and shoot the shit about life and its beautiful idiosyncrasies. Either way, feel free to join me on my journey through cancer, love, life, travel, drugs, music, and sex. I promise it won't be a total drag.