I'm on the mend. Lynn and Linda drove me to the Hospital on Wednesday around 11:15. All went well and according to plan. I went into surgery around 2 and woke up in recovery around the 3:15 or so mark. I have to again applaud our nurses, doctors and other staff. Jim picked me up around 5:15 and home to rest. Yesterday was a completely down day. My arm and shoulder are starting to move more today. I'm on the mend. I now have a patchwork chest! Next chemo on the 18th, CT scan on the 24th, seeing the oncologist on the 28th.
Honey is finding it hard not to snuggle, so is Puff. So am I!
Thanks to all for your positive thoughts and prayers.
Emma Lee
Friday, February 11, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Sometimes You Just Want to Scream
So I had lunch with gals from the Women Alike Dragon Boat Team yesterday. We had hoped to go to BaKed, but ALERT - it is closed on Sundays and Mondays! So we went to Mings. I do love Chinese food and it is a rarity for me nowadays! I loved my lunch, both the food and more importantly, the friends and conversation.
I have friends offering to take me to the hospital tomorrow - as soon as I find out when I am scheduled to go. I won't know that til after 2 this afternoon. I have to admit I'm not looking forward to it. I already know what to expect. I will be cold, physically and in spirit. Jim will have to come home to collect me and look after me for a few days. I will meditate to try and calm my nerves in advance. It must be done. This is when I really want to scream.
Luckily, we don't remember pain.
Okay - enough. I'm going to put on Let It Be and clean the house and then play some music.
Have a safe and great few days. I'll be in touch soon.
Peace, Emma Lee
I have friends offering to take me to the hospital tomorrow - as soon as I find out when I am scheduled to go. I won't know that til after 2 this afternoon. I have to admit I'm not looking forward to it. I already know what to expect. I will be cold, physically and in spirit. Jim will have to come home to collect me and look after me for a few days. I will meditate to try and calm my nerves in advance. It must be done. This is when I really want to scream.
Luckily, we don't remember pain.
Okay - enough. I'm going to put on Let It Be and clean the house and then play some music.
Have a safe and great few days. I'll be in touch soon.
Peace, Emma Lee
A Couple of Posts Before Tomorrow
Surgery is "scheduled" for tomorrow. Not sure how long I will be laid-up. So, I'm going to post a couple of items in the meantime. I sent the following posting off to the Canadian Breast Cancer Network for their upcoming newsletter. I had a great chat with a fellow metastatic patient yesterday. I am seeing clearer now that we are the present but invisible - we are the bad news stories that must be read. (BTW - when I refer to my sleepy little town, it is with deepest affection.)
WHEN ORDINARY BECOMES EXTRAORDINARY
Submitted by Emma Lee Stewart
February 7th, 2011
I’m fortunate to have a little dog that needs my daily care and attention. Honey keeps me active. We are up early each morning and by early, I mean between 5:00 and 6:00. Just about the same time I used to rise to ready for work. Getting dressed takes probably 5 minutes, because it’s cold out there, and layers are needed, including long johns. Here in Atlantic Canada we are in the midst of a normal cold, snowy winter. But to my point – these early morning walks have turned into a time of quiet introspection for me. Honey enjoys the walks more than I, but little does she know that these jaunts through sleepy town Nova Scotia have allowed me to turn my attention inward in an attempt to make sense of, and put into its proper perspective, my metastatic breast cancer diagnosis.
I was initially diagnosed with breast cancer (ER/PR+) on December 21st 2006 and went through surgery (right mastectomy, ALND), 4 rounds AC chemotherapy, 16 radiation treatments and a 5 year prescript for Tomoxifan. I was then set free to rejoin the employed. I bathed in pink as I was adopted into the survivor ranks. I joined the dragon boat team, created The Reason for Hope Society (which to date has raised $16,000.00 for cancer related initiatives), took over team recruitment for the Pictou County Dragon Boat Society, became an advocate with Breast Cancer Network Nova Scotia and yes, wore pink. I shouted and cheered and walked as a proud survivor. It really wasn’t too long however before the feelings of unwellness that accompanied my original diagnosis began to subtly reappear. My doctor was not too alarmed. I had regular blood work and a CT scan, but nothing showed. Pain became more pronounced in my upper right side and I continued to protest. I was told that my doctor saw hundreds of people every week with that pain. Blood work in early ’10 showed vit D was completely deficient. My doctor then closed shop, leaving me doctor-less. Luckily, my original surgeon took over my care. I had an abdominal ultrasound late April and on May 17th it was confirmed that my original breast cancer had metastasized in my liver: “seeded”. Since then, mets have been found in my thoracic spine. I continue to experience brutal left sided headaches but so far nothing has been found. I will continue to protest.
Back to my early morning walks. One morning it was particularly quiet. A light dusting of snow had fallen over night, leaving the world beautiful and clean. I allowed Honey to romp and investigate the snow as she wished, as I contemplated my reason for being. I suddenly noticed her completely still, head cocked slightly to the right, ears alert. I looked up and there in front of us was a beautiful young deer, probably two years old. Now I described my town as sleepy town, and it is, but there are more than 9000 people living here and it is a “town”. This wonderful creature was in the middle of our town, just as scared as we were. Honey doesn’t stand a foot tall, but man was she ready. The chase was on. You can guess the outcome. Honey didn’t give up, and I allowed her to follow the deer tracks through the snow along MacKay Street, up the path by the junior high, past the soccer field, right onto Albert Street, and then left, starting up MacLean Street before I stopped her. That was far enough and my ice grippers had failed by that time. The deer escaped. But Honey’s actions solidified something in my mind. When my oncologist told me I would be receiving palliative treatment for an incurable disease I must have looked at him the way Honey faced that deer: at first terrified, but eventually resolved to fight the good fight.
So, here I am: 53 years young, stripped of career, on a fixed income, fighting for as much quality/quantity of life doctors and their prescriptions can give me, having been diagnosed with a disease that currently has no cure. I am feeling very fortunate to live in Canada, but I am not exactly living the dream I had as a little girl. Explaining this disease to family and friends is difficult. It’s a tough sell even to survivors. This organization (CBCN) can give you the Canadian stats on numbers of women who go on to develop the dastardly metastasis. Friends I have met in the US tell me that 25% of women there diagnosed with early stage breast cancer go on to join me and 150,000 are estimated to be living with it. I am told that treatments have come a long way, this disease is becoming known as a chronic disease and that “stable” is good, “ned” (no evidence of disease) even better and to be wished for. I am taking in all of these things and trying to be patient, listening and understanding with my heart of hearts. Truth is I spent a lot of time healthy never listening with my heart of hearts: I now find her a constant and reliable companion. I think I’m too young for this, but obviously this disease doesn’t care what I think. I still have dreams. I’m still curious. I’m still creative. I still want to contribute.
That morning with Honey was beautiful. It was cold, but the sky was clear and the sunrise was just offering a hint of itself. The star in the east was the most brilliant I think I have ever seen. The air was fresh and delicious and, despite everything else, I have to admit I felt pretty good out there sharing the experience with my faithful little gal. I pray for all who have received this diagnosis that you are able to put it in its place; that you suffer little; that you are surrounded by love and beautiful things. Selfishly I pray that my son and daughter are spared this; that I am able to write and sing for as long as I can; and that early morning walks continue to allow me to see and feel beauty in the ordinary, appreciating the extraordinary goodness that is in my life.
Emma Lee Stewart of New Glasgow, Nova Scotia, was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer on May 17th, 2010. She has been receiving palliative chemotherapy since July of 2010. A blog of her journey can be found at www.raisinghopeforemmalee.blogspot.com.
WHEN ORDINARY BECOMES EXTRAORDINARY
Submitted by Emma Lee Stewart
February 7th, 2011
I’m fortunate to have a little dog that needs my daily care and attention. Honey keeps me active. We are up early each morning and by early, I mean between 5:00 and 6:00. Just about the same time I used to rise to ready for work. Getting dressed takes probably 5 minutes, because it’s cold out there, and layers are needed, including long johns. Here in Atlantic Canada we are in the midst of a normal cold, snowy winter. But to my point – these early morning walks have turned into a time of quiet introspection for me. Honey enjoys the walks more than I, but little does she know that these jaunts through sleepy town Nova Scotia have allowed me to turn my attention inward in an attempt to make sense of, and put into its proper perspective, my metastatic breast cancer diagnosis.
I was initially diagnosed with breast cancer (ER/PR+) on December 21st 2006 and went through surgery (right mastectomy, ALND), 4 rounds AC chemotherapy, 16 radiation treatments and a 5 year prescript for Tomoxifan. I was then set free to rejoin the employed. I bathed in pink as I was adopted into the survivor ranks. I joined the dragon boat team, created The Reason for Hope Society (which to date has raised $16,000.00 for cancer related initiatives), took over team recruitment for the Pictou County Dragon Boat Society, became an advocate with Breast Cancer Network Nova Scotia and yes, wore pink. I shouted and cheered and walked as a proud survivor. It really wasn’t too long however before the feelings of unwellness that accompanied my original diagnosis began to subtly reappear. My doctor was not too alarmed. I had regular blood work and a CT scan, but nothing showed. Pain became more pronounced in my upper right side and I continued to protest. I was told that my doctor saw hundreds of people every week with that pain. Blood work in early ’10 showed vit D was completely deficient. My doctor then closed shop, leaving me doctor-less. Luckily, my original surgeon took over my care. I had an abdominal ultrasound late April and on May 17th it was confirmed that my original breast cancer had metastasized in my liver: “seeded”. Since then, mets have been found in my thoracic spine. I continue to experience brutal left sided headaches but so far nothing has been found. I will continue to protest.
Back to my early morning walks. One morning it was particularly quiet. A light dusting of snow had fallen over night, leaving the world beautiful and clean. I allowed Honey to romp and investigate the snow as she wished, as I contemplated my reason for being. I suddenly noticed her completely still, head cocked slightly to the right, ears alert. I looked up and there in front of us was a beautiful young deer, probably two years old. Now I described my town as sleepy town, and it is, but there are more than 9000 people living here and it is a “town”. This wonderful creature was in the middle of our town, just as scared as we were. Honey doesn’t stand a foot tall, but man was she ready. The chase was on. You can guess the outcome. Honey didn’t give up, and I allowed her to follow the deer tracks through the snow along MacKay Street, up the path by the junior high, past the soccer field, right onto Albert Street, and then left, starting up MacLean Street before I stopped her. That was far enough and my ice grippers had failed by that time. The deer escaped. But Honey’s actions solidified something in my mind. When my oncologist told me I would be receiving palliative treatment for an incurable disease I must have looked at him the way Honey faced that deer: at first terrified, but eventually resolved to fight the good fight.
So, here I am: 53 years young, stripped of career, on a fixed income, fighting for as much quality/quantity of life doctors and their prescriptions can give me, having been diagnosed with a disease that currently has no cure. I am feeling very fortunate to live in Canada, but I am not exactly living the dream I had as a little girl. Explaining this disease to family and friends is difficult. It’s a tough sell even to survivors. This organization (CBCN) can give you the Canadian stats on numbers of women who go on to develop the dastardly metastasis. Friends I have met in the US tell me that 25% of women there diagnosed with early stage breast cancer go on to join me and 150,000 are estimated to be living with it. I am told that treatments have come a long way, this disease is becoming known as a chronic disease and that “stable” is good, “ned” (no evidence of disease) even better and to be wished for. I am taking in all of these things and trying to be patient, listening and understanding with my heart of hearts. Truth is I spent a lot of time healthy never listening with my heart of hearts: I now find her a constant and reliable companion. I think I’m too young for this, but obviously this disease doesn’t care what I think. I still have dreams. I’m still curious. I’m still creative. I still want to contribute.
That morning with Honey was beautiful. It was cold, but the sky was clear and the sunrise was just offering a hint of itself. The star in the east was the most brilliant I think I have ever seen. The air was fresh and delicious and, despite everything else, I have to admit I felt pretty good out there sharing the experience with my faithful little gal. I pray for all who have received this diagnosis that you are able to put it in its place; that you suffer little; that you are surrounded by love and beautiful things. Selfishly I pray that my son and daughter are spared this; that I am able to write and sing for as long as I can; and that early morning walks continue to allow me to see and feel beauty in the ordinary, appreciating the extraordinary goodness that is in my life.
Emma Lee Stewart of New Glasgow, Nova Scotia, was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer on May 17th, 2010. She has been receiving palliative chemotherapy since July of 2010. A blog of her journey can be found at www.raisinghopeforemmalee.blogspot.com.
Monday, February 7, 2011
This Past Weekend
What a great weekend. Good friend Liz arranged for a "Girl Power" weekend. When she asked me a few weeks back if I thought it sounded like a good idea, you know the answer. So we grabbed a calendar, I charted out my treatment schedule, and the date was chosen. Jane made her country home available and even the weather cooperated on Saturday. I was able to ask 14 friends. Saturday and Sunday was spent with fabulous friends, unbelievable food, manicures, pedicures, reflexology and massage. Liz chose the nail colors that were used. We laughed and sang and chatted and if there had have been another couple of hours, would have enjoyed the toboggans and sleds that were there for us too. Just too much to talk about and too much to do!
I fell asleep Saturday night to the sounds of my friends having fun - singing and laughing and dancing and celebrating life. They couldn't have kept me awake - I was exhausted from laughing. Oh, and Liz and Doris tucking me in helped too. It was magical. I even made them take part in my meditations on Sunday morning. Lucky for Jakki, Church was cancelled and she could stay to enjoy Mary's unbelievable breakfast. Jak and I had the chance to get a couple of tunes in before we hit the roads home.
I had the chance to let my hair down - the fact that I don't have any hair doesn't matter - I was able to dance and romp and laugh with abandon, safe in the company of friends. Just to forget for a little while! Yay!!!
Honey was so happy to see me, Jim was too. He had superbowl treats prepared, but I must confess, I didn't see any of the game.
Port surgery on Wednesday.
Peace to you all. Emma Lee
I fell asleep Saturday night to the sounds of my friends having fun - singing and laughing and dancing and celebrating life. They couldn't have kept me awake - I was exhausted from laughing. Oh, and Liz and Doris tucking me in helped too. It was magical. I even made them take part in my meditations on Sunday morning. Lucky for Jakki, Church was cancelled and she could stay to enjoy Mary's unbelievable breakfast. Jak and I had the chance to get a couple of tunes in before we hit the roads home.
I had the chance to let my hair down - the fact that I don't have any hair doesn't matter - I was able to dance and romp and laugh with abandon, safe in the company of friends. Just to forget for a little while! Yay!!!
Honey was so happy to see me, Jim was too. He had superbowl treats prepared, but I must confess, I didn't see any of the game.
Port surgery on Wednesday.
Peace to you all. Emma Lee
Friday, February 4, 2011
Honey and I
I found this picture today and wanted to share it. Honey and I from last summer. It was taken by Sueann Musick of the NG News. I still haven't figured out how to load the pictures I look in the recent snow storm. I have a great shot of her frozen paw print! The snow recently was deeper than she is and I had to blaze a trail. But man does she love the snow. She was romping like a kangeroo and as happy as a dog can get.
Blessings!
Emma Lee
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Extraordinary Gestures
Back in 07 when I was in Halifax at The Lodge That Gives I shared a room with a gal from Yarmouth. She was receiving radiation too, but hadn't received chemo and therefore had a grand head of hair. She often referred to it as her crowning glory. My crowning glory was/is a very nicely shaped head, bald and prone to hot flashes, so therefore, revealed for all to see. It is true that you don't always know what you've got til its gone because that's the way it was/is with my hair. I didn't really think about it that much until my room mate reminded me how a grand head of hair can complete you.
I attended Florence's funeral this afternoon, to sing with the choir. Funny as it seems, these events are helping me deal with my new "ordinary, everyday" life. I enjoyed some fellowship and wonderful UCW tea, sandwiches and sweets, then headed home. Snow is falling in earnest by my walk home, so when I didn't see any foot prints to and from my mail box I almost didn't check. But, decided what the heck. What greeted me filled my heart to overflowing.
A letter postmarked UltraHair Solutions Halifax. I thought - what's up with that? So, after Honey was settled, I gathered my glasses, went to my easy chair, turned on my reading light and opened the envelope: inside is a lovely two-tone pink/salmon card, with the word "thanks" written in gold along the top. Hmm. I opened the card and two enclosures spilled out to reveal this message, neatly handwritten in lovely script:
Dear Emma, I am writing a note of thank you for all the things you have been doing for your community. I have heard about you through a friend of yours Jordan MacKay. Jordan sent me his ponytail in honour of you. I took a look at your blog and it is amazing! Keep the spirit and faith going. Jordan's ponytail will be sent to one of my factories that make wigs for less fortunate kids that need hair while going through chemo. Anytime you are in the city drop by! Cheers, Devera Giles. (Her business card - UltraHair Solutions & Esthetics - 1770 Market Street, Suite M100, Halifax, NS B3J 3N9, and Devera is the owner of this business. Also a brochure on "A child's voice foundation - where kids come first" Angel Hair for Kids. www.achildsvoicefoundation.ca)
Jordan MacKay is a young adult man who has/had the most beautiful head of long hair. He has dramatically altered his look to make this contribution on my behalf.
I cannot write further. I'm crying and thanking God for my friends and for this wonderful generosity. Think of the child that will benefit from this gesture.
You know today I was thinking how ordinary things have become extraordinary for me. I am so thankful for that gift. I am praying for the child that will eventually benefit from Jordan's wig. I pray that child is blessed with understanding - understanding of generosity which makes this world a better place in which to live.
Love
Emma Lee
I attended Florence's funeral this afternoon, to sing with the choir. Funny as it seems, these events are helping me deal with my new "ordinary, everyday" life. I enjoyed some fellowship and wonderful UCW tea, sandwiches and sweets, then headed home. Snow is falling in earnest by my walk home, so when I didn't see any foot prints to and from my mail box I almost didn't check. But, decided what the heck. What greeted me filled my heart to overflowing.
A letter postmarked UltraHair Solutions Halifax. I thought - what's up with that? So, after Honey was settled, I gathered my glasses, went to my easy chair, turned on my reading light and opened the envelope: inside is a lovely two-tone pink/salmon card, with the word "thanks" written in gold along the top. Hmm. I opened the card and two enclosures spilled out to reveal this message, neatly handwritten in lovely script:
Dear Emma, I am writing a note of thank you for all the things you have been doing for your community. I have heard about you through a friend of yours Jordan MacKay. Jordan sent me his ponytail in honour of you. I took a look at your blog and it is amazing! Keep the spirit and faith going. Jordan's ponytail will be sent to one of my factories that make wigs for less fortunate kids that need hair while going through chemo. Anytime you are in the city drop by! Cheers, Devera Giles. (Her business card - UltraHair Solutions & Esthetics - 1770 Market Street, Suite M100, Halifax, NS B3J 3N9, and Devera is the owner of this business. Also a brochure on "A child's voice foundation - where kids come first" Angel Hair for Kids. www.achildsvoicefoundation.ca)
Jordan MacKay is a young adult man who has/had the most beautiful head of long hair. He has dramatically altered his look to make this contribution on my behalf.
I cannot write further. I'm crying and thanking God for my friends and for this wonderful generosity. Think of the child that will benefit from this gesture.
You know today I was thinking how ordinary things have become extraordinary for me. I am so thankful for that gift. I am praying for the child that will eventually benefit from Jordan's wig. I pray that child is blessed with understanding - understanding of generosity which makes this world a better place in which to live.
Love
Emma Lee
What A Way To Start The Day!
Okay - so I think the side-effects are lessening - still there - but lessening. So, up early, walk on this wonderfully snowy winters Groundhog Day. Home. Reading paper. Meditate. WATCH MOVIES - first HIGH FIDELITY AND THEN THE COMMITMENTS! So, I'm going now.
I hope you all have as great a day as mine is shaping up to be.
More news soon. Great plans underway.
Peace today, Emma Lee
I hope you all have as great a day as mine is shaping up to be.
More news soon. Great plans underway.
Peace today, Emma Lee
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