175. Chemo The Axe Murderer (without the Harpoonist)

 A few years ago in fall, while my husband was harvesting nearby, I noticed a small black vehicle, without its driver, parked in the middle of our yard, a somewhat unusual occurrence since during harvest, friends usually drive right up to where my husband is working.  They will be checking on any progress he is making and/or to bring him a cold beverage.  We also have an old bungalow in this yard, with the attached porch a catch-all for a variety of tools.  It so happened that when I took a second look at the vehicle, I saw a man, a stranger to me, leaving the porch of the old bungalow.  This man was carrying an axe, our axe to be precise!  I just had to find out what this man was up to.  So I left the house and walked towards him.  Curiously I did not feel threatened or anything.  As soon as the man spotted me, he ran towards his vehicle in a panic.  Before he could open the door I managed to yell a couple of questions.  "Hey, what are you doing with our axe?"  To which I got no reply.  I had more success with my second question: "Who are you looking for?"  The man answered: "Rhonda".  Then slammed the door shut and sped off in his vehicle in the direction of town.  Now I was panicking.  Wouldn’t you assume, like me, that this was likely about a nasty domestic situation?   I phoned my husband and wanted to phone the police.  He said that the RCMP had already apprehended the man. Apparently he had been stealing things in town and some citizens had called the RCMP.  When the police opened the man's car the back was full of stolen stuff.  We recovered our axe.  The man was taken to the nearest detachment and given a thorough psychiatric examination.

The next spring I decided to walk up to our neighbor’s house to have a chat with her.  I was walking down the grid road.  The snow had just melted.  All of a sudden I spotted a shiny object sticking out of the dirt right in the middle of the road.  Oh, oh, this was trouble and could slice someone’s tire.  Carefully I pulled the object out of the mud.  It was a knife, unbroken, totally complete.  Because I was closer to the neighbor's than our place I decided to ask her to dispose of it.  The neighbor has a dog I am not too fond of and the wind had blown my hair all over the place.  I must have been quite a sight when, instead of she, a relative opened the door and saw me standing there with a panicked look on my face, pointing a 9 inch deboning knife right at her.  No RCMP was ever called, so no psychiatric examination ensued, although that is sometimes up for debate!

If you like rock/blues, The Harpoonist and The Axe Murderer are a 2 men 1 woman band out of Vancouver.  You can find them on YouTube.  They have a most distinctive sound.

Back in a week or so.  Take care!  SanTeh!  

167. Chemo Points of Interest (Part 4)

I would like to add two photos of a previous camping trip.  They are of a "soddy", a dwelling made of sod or earth bricks.  Soddies were built all over the west by pioneers who could not afford to construct houses with regular building materials.  Or the materials were too scarce at the time.  Imagine living in one of these!  Although I'm told that they were quite cool in summer and warm in winter, (what a relief!), they were often rodent infested and snakes liked to move in also.  Yikes! I found this treasure on Main Street Elbow.  The town of Elbow has a marina with yachts and fancy condominiums going up all over town.  Quite a contrast with this soddy!  Kuddos to the residents for reconstructing a momento of the past!

Relax!  As long as you don't end up in the dog house you'll be fine! 😄

147. Chemo Looking for Security?

Other than one PET scan and several CT scans, I haven't had any radiation for my treatment to my knowledge.  So here's something I hadn't even considered...

One employee in possession of a Geiger counter, as a lark, used this gadget on a colleague undergoing radiation treatment and sure enough, the radiation definitely registered on it.

In another incident, a husband set off the security alarm in the airport when travelling shortly after having received a CT scan.

A cancer patient received a full body scan when going through security at a Toronto airport.  She was called aside and couldn't believe what she saw on the scanned image: her chest area and left wrist were lit up in red.  It was assumed that it was from radiation she had received on her chest and from radioactive materials used in an iv for the scan.  The perplexing thing was that the radiation had occurred almost 1 year prior.  According to a medical radiologist technician, there was no physical explanation for the radiation still being present, (something to do with half-lives, which I do not understand!), except if radioactive seeds had been implanted as part of the treatment plan, which the patient claimed they had not.

A male patient undergoing brachytherapy for prostate cancer states that radioactive seeds had been implanted and that it will take about 2 years for the radioactivity to be undetectable.  This man carries a special card for going through security.  Radiation may not leave your body as quickly as you may think and therefore it is advisable to have a note from your doctor on hand when you are planning to travel! 

Lastly: a few google searches mention cysts and hernias showing up on airport scans also! 😏 😄

Back within the week.  I may have news on possibly more surgery.  SanTeh!

133. Chemo Cancer and a Jackalope?

Last winter a Canadian journalist interviewed an American scientist on the radio.  The following are some of the highlights I caught.  Since the story involves two scientists and therefore may get confusing, I will call the interviewee "Professor Now", and a scientist from the past "Professor Then".

Professor Now had decided to skip his boring research for a change and  write a book about the phenomenon of the Jackalope, a fictitious, mythical creature that made it's debut in the Midwest during the 1930s.  (FYI:  A Jackalope is a cross between a rabbit (or hare) and a deer, a miniature deerabbit if you will.  I can claim I have seen one a long time ago: I think it was in some old timer's garden shed, while my husband insists it was in a small bar in North Dakota.  At any rate, no doubt a fair amount of liquor was involved!)  The brazen professor put his research money to good use, crisscrossing all of the U.S. in search for any pertinent information on this chosen topic.  It was thus that he eventually met a husband and wife duo who had been manufacturing the lovely creatures in their basement over the course of some 30 odd years accumulating a hefty nest egg in the process.  But it did not dawn on poor Professor Now, till the proud couple opened their deepfreeze to reveal it to be stuffed to the brim with rabbit skins, that real-life rabbits needed to die in order for this cottage industry to flourish!

Professor Now also stumbled across some research done during the Depression by a previous colleague, Professor Then.  And this is where the book gets really interesting.  Professor Then was minding his own business, when word came to him that some starving hunters from the Dust Bowl area had spotted rabbits with horns on their heads, real horney rabbits. (pardon the pun)  It sounded so incredulous that he wanted to see and examine this phenomenon for himself.  The hunters obliged and provided him with some specimens which were examined and it turned out that the horney protrusions on their heads were caused by a virus.  Still, it took another 50 years of on-and-of research till there was a connection made between that and the Human Papilloma Virus, a strain of which, as you know, causes cervical cancer for which there is a vaccine at present!  Professor Now concluded the radio interview with an appeal to listeners to inform him and/or dispatch to him any horney animal you have ever come across...No, sorry, I don't think he meant your significant other!  😉

This leads up to my next topic:  Minuscule creatures that cause cancer.  Back middle of next week.  SanTeh!

126. Chemo CT scan is booked for Dec. 8th

 The following cartoon hangs on a wall in the hospital:

A mouse doctor is standing next to his mouse patient sitting on a bed.  The mouse doctor says to the mouse patient:  "Here is our latest technology for diagnosis.  It is called a CAT scan and it works like this:  You will be running down the hall and a CAT will be chasing you.  If you outrun the CAT, you will live.  But if the CAT outruns you, you probably will not make it."   A bit dark, I admit, but funny!😄

123. Chemo Do Men Pick Up after Themselves?

That's the question and the topic of today's post,... sort of.

Many years ago I was caretaker of a government building with more than 20 office staff working there.  Over time I got to know some of these employees quite well and had some friendly conversations, exchange of jokes and good-natured pranks, mostly with the male staff.  But I figured that things were starting to get out of hand when, while making my rounds through the building one day, I found a sock laying in the middle of the lobby floor.  I decided to put a halt to the horsing around.  The best solution I could think of, was to pin the sock to the bulletin board in the entrance hall on top of an accompanying letter-sized note.  My note read: "Please remove, if this sock belongs to you." in big, bold letters, with underneath in smaller print: "Good grief, What's next?  Your gotch?"  

It was perfect!  You couldn't miss it!  Both stood out like a sore thumb in between the numerous dull government pamphlets.   I was convinced that it was bound to attract the attention of the culprit!  But all week the sock and note stayed firmly attached to the bulletin board.  No one touched them.  I couldn't understand why.

Then, to my surprise - and horror- I found the sock's twin at the bottom of the dryer when I did laundry the following weekend.  So the next night I removed sock and note as quickly and as stealthily as I could.  None of the staff ever brought up the subject... to my knowledge!  Nothing like putting your foot (or in my case your sock) in your mouth!         S.A. commented that I "came out clean"!  (Smart-y-pants!)😄

Still waiting on the results of the biopsy.  Lots of appointments coming up in the following 2 weeks.  Back after Monday probably.  SanTeh!

117. Chemo What goes around comes around

When our son was in university he had a job one summer working in an ethanol plant.   Or rather, the place had been a distillery before and was in the process of being converted into an ethanol plant.  One of his chores was to clean out the mash tanks, pleasant work, up to a point.  His work clothes would always reek of booze and he would bring them home to be washed, transporting them in his car, also reeking of booze.  I would chide him, worried that if he would be pulled over by the cops, he might have a hard time explaining his situation and be in big trouble!

A couple of years later I had a teaching assignment a good 2 hours drive from our home and rented a small apartment in that city.  I would stay there during the week and come home on weekends.  It so happened that I was heavily invested into making home-made wine at the time.  I had started a big batch of chokecherry wine at the beginning of the new school year and since my husband was busy with harvest and could not possibly be trusted caring for my precious wine, I decided to take the fermentation vessel with me for the week.  I carefully strapped the container in on the passenger side with the seat belt and drove to work, a bit worried on how I would explain my precious cargo if I ever would get stopped.  But we both got to our destination without any problem, the yeastlings happily bubbling away, performing their magic.  I was quite pleased that I was able to keep an eye on the fermentation process all week long.  Yet somehow, something did not feel quite right but I just could not put a finger on what was wrong.  Friday after work, I picked up the fermenting batch at my apartment, again strapped it in and drove home.  I was quite happy that the fermentation had in no way been  hindered by the transportation back and forth and that the batch was smelling so wonderfully like alcohol already!  

Once arrived home, my husband casually mentioned after supper that my licence plate had been expired for a while. Was I aware of I this? (Gulp, no, what?)  

And no, I did not take the ferment into my classroom for Show and Tell!😄  SanTeh! 🍷

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!  Enjoy the Weekend!  Back after Tuesday!

108. Chemo Heads or Tails

This one is dedicated to S.A.  Thank you for all your encouragement!  Bisou!

Manitoba friends were having an anniversary party.  My husband and I  were invited.  So we went, taking our small Beachcomber camper along and we camped in our friends' yard.  It was a great visit and party!  Not in any rush to get home afterward, we decided to make a small side-trip to the International Peace Garden, a 9,5 km2 park located on the Canada-United States border between the province of Manitoba and the state of North Dakota.  It is a lovely park, a symbol of peace between the two countries.  To our chagrin we found no campground nearby.  The closest one we would come across was situated at Oak Lake.  We decided to stay there for the night.  The campground was packed.  We got the last campsite available.  Because our Beachcomber had no shower in it, the weather had been extremely hot and we had been on the road several days by then, being able to shower was something to really look forward to!  Up to that point we had mostly been camping in our own province and had not yet encountered a coin-operated shower as was the case here.  I prepared two "bathing baskets": one for my husband, and one for myself and we emptied our pockets and divided the coins more or less equally.  I hurried to the shower barracks because I wanted to beat the rush.  I was in luck: no line-up yet.  But I no sooner had undressed and people began to line up behind me. I put the coins in the machine and discovered that in my haste I had grabbed my husband's basket.  It did not contain a lot of coins, in fact the coins amounted to roughly 3 minutes of shower time.  It did have a towel but instead of my usual shampoo and luxurious soap had a bottle of Head and Shoulders, a dandruff shampoo.  Oh well I shrugged.  I did not want to leave without being refreshed so I decided to lather up from head to toe with the dandruff shampoo.  I am not in a habit of using this product, so I plead ignorance.  But anyone who does use it will tell you that you do not want to get this shampoo in your eyes: it will sting and burn!  Well, the same goes for any other delicate parts I found out.  I have never danced around in a shower like I did then and there, trying to get this shampoo off my private parts before the money ran out.  Ouch!!  My husband commented afterward that he never had such a relaxing shower being lavender scented and all that.  I couldn't help but think how lush, shiny and dandruff-free my "nether parts" must have been. 😏

Biopsy tomorrow.  Not looking forward to it!  Results may take up to 2 weeks.  Back in about a week. Keep well!  SanTeh! 

 

106. Chemo Who is Dangerous here?

Mary went to Lloyd recently.  Lloyd is short for Lloydminster, a prairie city straddling Alberta and Saskatchewan, in the middle of the oil-patch.  I doubt that she went for the same reason I was there in 1982: a dental convention!

Some of you who've known me for a long time might remember that I was a dental therapist with the Saskatchewan Dental Therapy Program for a while.  A convention was held at Lloydminster and my team consisting of Helen, my assistant and I, went to it, like all the other teams throughout the province.  Upon our arrival at the hotel, Helen and I checked into our room and got prepared to meet the rest of the participants in the convention room.  When we were finally ready to go, a cowboy in a room ahead of us, was also leaving and heading in the same direction.  He walked ahead of us in the hallway wearing the usual cowboy attire:  stetson hat, duster coat and pointy cowboy boots.  What was less usual was the fact that every time he took a step, the split in the back of his coat opened up and revealed a fully rounded moon, and I am not talking planetary systems here: he wasn't wearing any underwear!  Helen and I chuckled and shook our heads.  Was this normal behavior for the good people of Lloydminster, we wondered?  The cowboy disappeared around a corner and it was then that we stumbled upon a billboard in the hotel lobby announcing:  Tonight's Feature: Nick Danger, Male Stripper!

Arriving at the convention room, we found it already packed with eager, excited co-workers.  The room could only hold 175 people but the women kept on streaming in, pushing and shoving, because no one wanted to miss the featured event.  The ones that had no seat (none were left) were told by management that they had to pretend they were sitting down, iow. they had to crouch.  With the ticking of the clock, the mostly female crowd got more and more excited.  Suddenly the lights dimmed, the music started up and the cowboy, Nick, appeared on stage.  The women who had no seat shot up in the air like arrows, joined by all the women who did have seats.  The crowd went wild laughing, cheering, screaming...

Whenever I tell this story I invariably get asked the question:  were Nick's male attributes "stage worthy"?  I can not honestly answer that because Helen and I were the last ones to enter the room and were quite a ways away from the stage.  All I can say is that if anyone was dangerous, it was not Nick! 😇

Appointment with oncologist on Monday.  She and I have much to discuss, ultrasound results for one!  Back after the appointment.  SanTeh!  Keep healthy and safe!

102. Chemo A-Sailing We Will Go

We grew up close to the North Sea, closer to a river ending up in the North Sea, closest to a canal ending up in the river that ends up in the North Sea.  But even though ships of all makes and sizes were all around us, we never actually set foot on one: we were landlubbers.  Even so, sea faring made a lasting impression.  For my sister that meant marrying a maritimer from Nova Scotia; for me that meant taking sailing lessons at age 44, quite some time ago.  

It was a week-long beginners sailing course at Last Mountain Lake, under the tutelage of Harry S., a local teacher and sailing afictionado.  The first and last 2 days are a blur to me, but the Wednesday sticks out like a wet herring.  Monday and Tuesday were spent learning "exhilarating" stuff such as: tying knots and ropes, blowing a whistle, etc.  Wednesday we finally got down to brass tacks and were teamed up, 2 beginners, myself and this other girl in an actual small sail boat!  Oh the excitement!   Now I know what you are thinking:  What were they thinking?, "they" being the instructors.  But we, the beginners did not foresee any problems at all because we were so gung-ho to finally get out onto the lake!  Setting out tacking was no problem, in fact it was heaven!  We felt like old pros.  Piece of cake!  We even congratulated ourselves on managing to turn the boat around.  "High 5!"  But then came a huge gust of wind up from behind and all of a sudden the tide turned so to speak and we were out of control, with sails, ropes, beams, arms and legs all over the place!  You guessed it: we ended up in the water, the boat overturned with the tip of the mast stuck into the silty bottom.  Try as we might the other girl and I could not upright the boat, so we had no choice but to blow our whistles with all our might.  Good thing we had been practicing that for 2 days!  Eventually, and luckily before hypothermia set in, a couple of instructor assistants came to the rescue.  The other girl managed to hoist herself into the boat with the grace of a sea otter.  I: not so much.  With nothing but water underneath my feet I did not have the strength to launch myself and had to be hauled in like a wet oversized cod.  I did stay for the remainder of the course, but the thrill was gone.

On my way home, I stopped to pick up some groceries.  Other shoppers gave me curious looks probably thinking I was a battered wife because I was bruised from neck to toe.

I have not taken any more sailing lessons since.  Mind you, I did buy a paddleboard a few years ago.  No sails to worry about for one.  And I have been trying to make a contraption to enable myself to climb back on should I fall into deep waters. Hmmm...😓 Best not to fall!!! 😎

I waited 2 days in Halifax once for a chance to go sailing on the Bluenose.  I would get up really early every morning so I would not miss out.  After 2 days' waiting for the fog to lift, I gave up.  Oh well!  This week labs for the month are due.  Back when the results are in. Fingers crossed!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5CNZwbY9Uo   Abc wals = Dutch sea chanty; link may not work on computer; works on phone though!   

101. Chemo Finger Lickin' Fingers and Toes!

Mel B. came for a visit the other day.  And that reminded me of a story she told me at the beginning of my chemo treatment, which triggered an experiment I did later on.  So I had to try it again the other night just to verify if it would still work.  It did.  If you don't believe me, go ahead and  try it for yourself...

Mel's husband passed away with cancer several years ago.  It was a blessing for him because radiation treatments had ravaged his body to the point where he had severe radiation burns.  Medical staff at he time tried anything and everything to alleviate the man's pain at the radiation site but nothing worked until one day, a nurse gave some "magic patches" to put on the wound.  The side of those patches closest to the skin was infused with raw honey!  Mel remembers that these honey patches would give her husband relief from his pain.  You may recall that one of my worst side effects from chemo is neuropathy, nerve damage to my fingers and toes.  It has been 2 months since my last treatment, but the neuropathy has not disappeared.  I have been using Dr. Joe's LiveRelief to get some relief: not bad, but expensive.  Then I remembered Mel's story and I smeared some honey on both hands and especially my fingers: instant relief!  I attributed this to wishful thinking at first. So I managed to talk 2 other ex-chemo patients into using the honey also and lo and behold they also found relief!  So I think there must be something to it, what and how I don't know.  It has to be raw unadulterated honey, a honey substitute will not do!  Of course the drawbacks are obvious: you end up with sticky fingers and as a result can't touch anything (a dandy way of getting out of doing housework! 😉).  And some time after you wash off the honey the side effects will come back.  So the relief is only temporary, but it is relief nevertheless!   Now if Someone were to manage to extract the healing components out of honey without the stickiness, this someone could be the next multimillionaire!  How about You? 😉

 Back in a couple of days or right after the weekend.  SanTeh!

100.Chemo Well Heeled

My first serious job in Belgium in the 70s was working in a bank.  It was a prestigious, well established place, located in the heart of the city, with a huge marble-floored lobby, lots of oak paneling on the walls and shiny brass accents everywhere.   It was the place where the well heeled of the city did their transactions and entrusted their money.  I was hired as a data entry clerk, sitting in a cubicle behind the scenes. The wage was more than good and I was eager to spend some of my cash! 

It so happened that on my way to and from work I had to walk by a small boutique selling fashion and footwear imported from Britain, very in vogue at the time!  One evening I spotted them in the window: a pair of knee-height black velvet boots with 2 inch stiletto heels! I was smitten!  I had to have them!  I was going to show the fuddy-duddy co-workers in the bank what real fashion was all about!  So I bought them, tucked the box under my arm and headed for home.  My parents, who had survived the depression and lean war years were not impressed.  "You spent your money on THIS?"  But their reaction did not deter me from wearing my purchase to work the next morning.

Now I ask you: at what point in your life does a person develop a brain?  If I had one at the time I made little use of it.  Instead of taking the box to work and wearing the boots there, I traveled to and from work wearing them.  I should mention that we lived in the suburbs, that I had a 15 minute walk to the bus stop, then a bus ride and another 10-15 minute walk in the city on cobbled streets before reaching the bank.  Walking in 2 inch stiletto heeled boots is an art form I never possessed, not then and even less now.  So I missed my regular bus, because try as I may, I could not get there in time.  Once in the city, the cobblestoned pavement presented another challenge.  I managed to swerve from lamp post to lamp post to keep more or less in an upright position, much like a drunken sailor after several wild nights.  Arriving at the bank I would straighten up and glide somewhat gracefully through the lobby to my cubicle, to the amusement of the tellers situated behind the counters.  Lucky for me the manager's door was closed.

The second day went much as the first, except that this time, when the tellers saw me making "my entrance", two jolly older males cupped their hands around their mouths and proclaimed to the others: "Here comes the leaning tower of Pisa!"  Also the manager's door was slightly ajar this time.

When I entered the bank on the third day,  I was late again of course.  This time the manager stood in the doorway of his office, cigar in mouth, hands on hips.  He did not say anything, only squinted at me.  It was then that I got this sinking feeling, that perhaps wearing these boots might not be such a good idea; that I could get fired over this!  But the straw that really broke the camel's back was when, at the end of the day, standing at the bus stop waiting for my ride home, I was approached, proposed to and offered some money by two "gentlemen".

The boots survived the move to Canada, where in an attempt to recover some of my "investment" I wore them to a couple of Halloween parties.  Then they ended up in a musty basement somewhere, where they quickly deteriorated.  

And if I remember correctly, my next purchase were a pair of Birkenstocks: Sensible Shoes! 

  

I'll be back at the end of next week.  Come sailing with me then!  Take care! SanTeh!

95. Chemo Going to Wanuskewin

For the year-end field trip I decided what better plan than to take the students back to their roots -  "We are going to Wanuskewin!" - in part because it was befitting the culture and the curriculum and maybe more so because I had never been there and wanted to experience it for myself! 😆  When I suggested it to the class they all rolled their eyes but agreed on the condition that a stop at Ruckers, the amusement place, should be included.  I had no problem with that.  The trip was to be an overnighter; we would have to take sleeping bags and other gear.  "Oh, and by the way, the teacher is usually also the driver."  "Great!"  Gulp!

So the day came and we set out in the vehicle: 12 students, an adult "antie-chaperone" and myself.  Before leaving the reserve, I thought it prudent, since we were allotted an older van, to fill up with gas and get everything checked by an attendant.  The trip to Saskatoon was uneventful.  I can't remember why we ended up on Spadina Avenue but there we were, almost right in front of the old chateau-style hotel when the van stalled and I could not get for life nor money, the motor started again.  Traffic began to accumulate behind us and I was fearing an upcoming mutiny by the students because we had not been to Ruckers yet.  So the boys scrambled out of the van, and because we were on the top of a slight incline, pushed the van "downhill" with the help of some bystanders and, miracle of miracles, the motor started up again!  By now the sweat was pouring out of me and I hightailed it straight to a garage where a mechanic's head disappeared under the hood and found a cap that was not screwed into place.  Thankfully we had no more mishaps with the vehicle after that!

Ruckers was enjoyed by all.  Then on to Wanuskewin where a guide toured us around, had a bannock supper prepared, told stories by the fire and made sure we were all comfortably tucked into our sleeping bags in the big tipi, our sleeping accommodation for the night.  The guide would be back in the morning to make breakfast.

Just before daybreak I woke up and had this eerie feeling.  The fire had long gone out, the temperature was near freezing and some of the tipi flaps were rattling in the wind.  I was stone cold.  I looked around and to my astonishment realized that I was indeed all alone in the big tipi: my companions had abandoned me, God only knows how long already.  I found them settled in the van where it was cozy warm, the windows dripping with condensation.  Once inside myself, it took me 2 to 3 hours to regain my normal body heat, but without question I had a superb front seat to a magnificent sunrise!

Back at the school, people wanted to know how the students had enjoyed their field trip.  Their general response was: "Ruckers was good!"  😏😄 

Back tomorrow with an update on my situation.  SanTeh!

Song by Buffy Saint Marie:  Qu'Appelle Valley, Saskatchewan    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjgaF3KqqiM

89. Chemo What the Queen and I have in Common

We are both female: check.  We each have at least one dog: check.  We both wear jewelry: check, although hers are the real thing and mine are from Walmart.  We both are into one precious metal this year:  Platinum to be exact!   One of my chemo drugs was oxaliplatin, a drug containing platinum.  Because of this metal circulating through my system, I am very sensitive to cold and must bundle up and protect my body more than before, iow I must be my own "body guard"! 😄 

The Queen on the other hand is celebrating her Platinum Jubilee, 70 years as a Monarch.  She never had chemo as far as I know.  Good for her!  On my husband's side of the family, they are devoted royal-watchers, although it baffles me as to why.  Having Irish roots, the family emigrated to North America during the Great Famine 1845-1852.  The word in England during that time was: "Let them eat Crumpets!!", as 6 million pounds of rent money were remitted out of Ireland into British coffers.  Now my husband and I agree on one thing however; that the English monarchy livens things up in Britain and at the very least counteracts the dreariness of the British weather.  To be without the Royal family is just unthinkable.  Where else would you come across Royal off-spring who dilly-dallies with minors or one who wanted to be a tampon, a Tampon King no less?  The Royal family adds their share to British tourism and tabloidism on and  off the isles.  Will and Kate's visit to the Carribean to promote the Royal Brand did not exactly go as planned.  But then the Colonies are getting wiser and are slowly starting to back away from the CommonWealth. (Is that as in Wealth for the Common People?)  Hats off to the Queen though for persevering and sitting on the throne for 70 years!  I have to hand it to the Old Gal: at 95 she does have grit!  I can barely manage 20 minutes on the throne and my legs get numb.   And she did after all marry Prince Phillip, who is all right in my books, who, instead of the obligatory ribbon-cutting, did something useful and founded the Duke of Edinburgh International Award, a program my son was involved in and greatly benefitted from!  So, Long Live the Queen!

Truth be told: I may have a peek at the TV to see what the royals are wearing, to see if Kate is gaining any weight and if Megan and Harry do show up! 😉😊😉     Back on Sunday.

86. Chemo Life's a Box of Chocolates...with a Carbon Footprint?

 I did not get all of my garden in yet, because we are receiving all the rain we did not get last year now.  Not that I'm complaining: no drought this year!   It may be drier up north?    Now about the chocolates...

Ask any Belgian what they consider to be Vitamin B and C and they will tell you that Vitamin B stands for Beer and Vitamin C is for Chocolate.  Both these "vitamins" are considered staples, national treasures even.  So after last year's surgery, my good friend Myriam S. decided I could use some cheering up and fortification with good old Belgian Vitamin C.  At first she thought she should send a hefty box from Belgium, the real deal, but reconsidered when she found out that the transport would take too long and possibly be costlier than ordering chocolates from Lindt, the next best thing.😏  She ordered on-line, a wise choice, except the purchase order did not include our home or cell phone number and the order ended up being placed in Toronto, Ontario, a good 2,500 km to the east.

A month or so went by and we still hadn't received any chocolates.  My friend was getting worried.  So was I.  She inquired from her side of the Atlantic and when she got nowhere, and I was feeling much better by then, I started making inquiries from this side.  It so happened that the courier company had been at our house twice and with no one home and no phone number to reach us, had returned the package to the warehouse in the city without leaving a message.   By the time I inquired the 2 week wait period in the warehouse had long expired and the package had been safely returned to the place of origin, a 5000 km round trip.  The Lindt Customer Service Person, who was really helpful, asked if I wanted the money back or would I prefer the merchandise?  I chose the merchandise.  The Person said it would go out with their next shipment out West.  I asked if there was a possibility to pick something out of equal value in the store as there is a Lindt store in the city near us.  After some back and forth, I received news that yes, it would be possible to get a nice gift box from the store.  Within a day or 2 the store manager phoned and asked about directions to send the package to our home by courier.  We decided to just go and pick it up at the store instead! 😂

Back tomorrow with possible update on my chemo treatment.

82. Chemo Passport Picture

My good friend Mie and I discussed a long time ago that we should do something special for our 65th birthdays.  Never having been there, we decided on a week-long stay in New York.  Then Covid hit and New York was one of the worst places to go, so we had to shelve that idea.  Last year, before I knew I was having cancer, we were eying the island of Ibiza.  Unfortunately that was not to be either.  With the chemo treatments behind me, I have been daydreaming a bit about travelling again.  Which made me think about my passport, whether or not it has expired and should I be needing a new passport picture?  So I decided to take this a step further and got a chemo passport picture taken.  Here is what happened...

I went to the local drug store.  I was wearing my glasses as usual, a mask and a hat and asked the store clerk to take my photo.  She said yes but I would have to take off my glasses, mask and hat.  I responded that the glasses and mask were no problem but that I needed to wear my hat due to chemo.  She said she would go ask her supervisor.  The supervisor said that the hat needed to come off because I would need to "look as close as possible to being dead" upon which the clerk and I glanced at each other and smiled feebly.  The clerk quickly added that it was for "identification purposes should I "perish" in a strange land".  She apologized and said she didn't mean...Then we both burst out laughing.  I asked if I could wear a wig instead of the hat.  The supervisor said yes.  So after one of my last chemo sessions I visited the wig-bank of the cancer clinic.  It was a pleasant surprise!  I half expected a cluttered rummage-sale style place.  On the contrary, all wigs and head gear are neat and tidy and nicely displayed.  There is also a nifty anno 1950 boudoir-like corner with mirror and brushes and a nylon net to cover your remaining hair or bald head.  If I, and the lady who takes care of the place, would have had lots of time, I would have liked to try them all!  But I didn't.  So I chose this one. (see next post)  My husband did a double-take when he saw me wearing it.  (Reflecting on my husband's reaction I should have borrowed a different wig after each chemo session! 😉)  I returned it after the photo shoot!

If (and that's a big if), if I get brave enough to shave the rest of my remaining hair, I may post the wig picture and the baldy-head picture together at a later date, (maybe.)

Next weekend is a long weekend.  Camping season is starting!  Back on Monday or Tuesday with a camping/glamping story.  Also next week a brief recount of Surgery day of September last year.  Spoiler alert: I survived the surgery!  😄  Enjoy the weekend!  SanTeh!

73. Chemo Best Egg Salad Sandwich Ever!

 I was teaching in a school quite a distance away from my home.  Monday mornings, my husband would prepare my lunch for the day so I would not be late.  This particular Monday I knew he had made me an egg salad sandwich, an absolute favorite of mine.  I was really looking forward to it!

Arriving at the school, I tossed my non-descript lunch bag into the staff room fridge in the pile with all the other lunches.  When it was lunch time I quickly grabbed my lunch and proceeded to eat it.  Much to my delight the egg salad was exactly the way I like it: very creamy with just the right amount of finely chopped onion added!  My husband had really outdone himself!  Every bite was sheer bliss!

I was just about to sink my teeth into the second half of the sandwich when a frantic woman's voice filled the room.  Or rather, she had her head stuck in the fridge and kept muttering: "I can't find my lunch.  I just can not find my lunch."  Then it slowly dawned on me that the delicious sandwich I was eating might not be mine? I went to the fridge.  Sure enough, my bag had been tossed into the back in between last month's left-overs.  Whoops!  Sheepishly I confessed my error to the poor substitute teacher, apologized, tried a lopsided smile and suggested a "lunch swap"?  She found no humor in this, stomped out of the staff room and headed straight for the nearest Tim Horton's.  With most of the sandwich nearly eaten, all I could do at that point was just shrug and finish the Best Egg Salad Sandwich Ever!

58. Chemo The legging fairies strike again!

This last week or so I have been plagued by legging fairies.  They showed up after I started walking outside again.  I think they hitched a ride in on my clothing, on my leggings to be precise.   They are not harmful, just sneaky.  There are no encounters when I am walking or lying in bed, only when I am sitting on a dining room chair.  I will be sitting on the chair minding my own business and just like that they will almost imperceptibly ride up the back of my legs and then shoot down into my ankles like they are on a down-elevator joy-ride.  I have been trying to catch one so I could show you.  But so far, no luck.

So I mentioned this to my oncologist.  She cast a sideway glance at my husband.  I could tell what she was thinking: "Poor guy!  I wonder what all he has to put up with?".  Then she turned to me and asked me point blank if I had been indulging in any alcohol lately.  I was taken aback.  Again she looked me straight in the eye and asked if I had considered taking medication for anxiety.  I stammered that I did not need any.

So in light of that conversation I did not dare mention the claw devils that used to pester me during previous treatments.  And pester they did!  They would fling my dominant hand into the shape of a claw for no reason at all, except to amuse themselves. They would also make me drag my legs a bit.  Now this would have been half tolerable had they had a decent sense of timing, say, for Halloween, but no!  They decided to appear afterwards.  In addition they made it impossible for a day or two after chemo treatment for me to use my hands and get dressed and undressed by myself.  Even this would have been acceptable as it had the potential to put some spice back into a 39-year old marriage! 😉 Except again, their timing was off, way off!

I no longer get plagued by claw devils.  Ok.  Maybe a tiny bit off and on.  And the legging fairies I can handle, so life is good!  

No major post till Easter Monday.  I am working on an interesting post on breast health for after Easter.  Happy Easter everyone!  Take care!

52. Chemo A Youth-Full Chilean Prank

 Did you get pranked yesterday?  Or did you prank someone? 😄

Hotels are an entry point of employment for new Canadians, and the hotel my sister and I worked in was no exception.  In the late 70s, a group of freshly arrived Chileans flocked in, among them a handsome young man by the name of Nelson, who was a favorite with all the female staff.  In addition to having little knowledge of English, the man was shy however, extremely shy.  It so happened we also had a freshly divorced cougar on staff, named Shelly-Ann.  She was desperately looking for some action and focused all her attempts on poor Nelson.  It was painfully obvious to everyone but Shelley-Ann that he was not in the least bit interested.  This hopeless situation went on for a while till my sister and I decided to do something about it.  We asked coworker Dalal, also Chilean, how to say some words in Spanish, then promptly taught this to Shelley-Ann, which we assured her would endear her to him.  At the right moment (we did not want to miss this special occasion) we brought the two lovebirds together.  As per our instructions, Shelley-Ann snuggled up really close to Nelson and blurted out:  "Tengo dos tetitas como dos manzanitas."  Loosely translated as : "I have two small breasts like two little apples."  Nelson did not say a word but his eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.  Then he slowly spun around on his heels and walked out the door,...  walked right into a much more lucrative job in construction!  Shelley-Ann was furious at us.  But her anger soon vanished when a couple of weeks later a contingent of Vietnamese boat people arrived.  Lucky for her, we made no attempt at learning Vietnamese.

Have a listen to the local band called Andino Suns off-spring of the Chilean immigrants that settled here in the 70s: Cantando el pajaro

Back tomorrow with 1 more Chilean story  Till then!

48. Chemo Boh-Ring...!

The other morning a psychological survey was mentioned on the radio about the 5 most boring occupations: cleaning was one of them (understandably! been there, doing it😒), another one accounting (I have half an Admin degree, but then switched into Education, also understandably), 2 others, I forget what they were, and data analysis.   Now you may beg to differ, but I happen to like data analysis.  From what I am told by my mother it began at a very young age.  When I was an infant lying in my crib, she would hand me some objects to keep me entertained.  And entertain they did!  For hours on end.  I would hold them, examine them, twist and turn them to the point of nausea!  Not so with my brothers!  They would barely glance at them, briefly chew on them and then quickly chuck them away as far as their little arms could throw.  So it won't be too much of a surprise to you then, that I have been delving and digging up some more information on the FIT testing.  Yes it involves some data (yawn) but it is interesting and deserves some further scrutiny!