BC Becky

Never thought I'd want to be a breast cancer survivor

Category: Pre-chemo

  • Dates

    Dates

    The first time around, I found that I knew every date – the date of my diagnosis (June 12), first chemo (July 7), last chemo (Oct 30), first surgery (Nov 19), second surgery (Dec 17), third surgery (Mar 17) … this time, I have not been paying attention to dates. They don’t matter to me. I cannot remember my surgery date – I think it was in August but might have been September. I would have to look it up on my calendar.

    Last Wednesday I had my port surgery. Friday I had my first muga – looking at the blood flow through the ventricles in your heart. In this case, the test was a baseline before chemotherapy. That will help determine if the chemotherapy is causing any damage.

    It was interesting, they called on Thursday to book the muga. They said “you doctor wants the test before Oct 24, and they only slot we have before then is 10:30 tomorrow”. Hmmm. OK. I knew that they only did the muga test on Thursdays. They knew I needed it on Monday, so I’m not sure why it took them so look to book it. But anyways, what was interesting was the mention of an Oct 24 date.

    Then I get a call from the VON (Victoria Order of Nurses – these are the homecare nurses that come to do wound checks and give injections). They let me know that they were scheduled to come on Oct 27 to given me an injection. The injection they are giving me is given at least 48-hours post chemo and is a white blood cell booster. It is similar to the neulasta that I did with AC chemo. That too was interesting. Given those two bits of information, I derived that I’d be having chemo on Wednesday.

    Friday I finally got the call. I have chemo booked for Wednesday. It will start at 9am and will be a long day. It involves a loading dose of herceptin, plus taxotere and cytoxan. I can expect to be there at least six hours. My first comment was that I’d need to bring lunch. She said that they would feed me – well that is new, I was only ever given snacks at Stanford. I highlighted that I had celiac, and she said she’d mention it so hopefully they would have something for me. I’ll also bring a sandwich just in case.

    The first half hour will involve education and so I’m allowed to have a caregiver with me. After that, my caregiver is welcome to wait in another lounge or something – but in the infusion centre with me as they don’t have the space. I found that interesting, as hubby came to almost all of my previous chemos. It is odd to think of doing this without anyone as a caregiver there. On the other hand, I’m sure that hubby will be happy to just drop me off and get back to work helping to finish building Treehouse Village. There is still a lot of work left to complete the community, and a bunch of it is falling on him to do.

    I have tried to remember that my job now is my health – before anything else. I’m trying to get out walking more – fortunately, now that we have moved, my puppy is back home making it necessary for me to walk her. I also had a lovely walk with a friend – again, nice to get out and walk on what was supposed to be a completely miserable day.

    The lymphedema in my right hand continues to be a problem. When I wear one of my sleeves from before it actually makes it worse. It is weird this time, as the swelling is mostly in my hand and forearm. I ordered a custom sleeve that should arrive in the next week or so. In the US, they pulled “fitted” sleeves from the shelf – off the rack. Here, they specifically measured and set the compression specifically where I need it. Hopefully the new sleeve with be more comfortable but also work.

    I did try out some of my VR boxing. It actually seems to help the arms – even when I’m not wearing a sleeve. Now the best thing for it would be swimming, but I’m not allowed to swim for another 10 days. So, VR boxing it is. I really enjoy doing it, so the biggest problem right now is not over doing it.

    I do find that I feel a little guilty for spending so much of my time walking and playing with the VR boxing. I don’t feel like I’m doing productive work. That being said, I spent a lot of time pulling my kitchen together. It is a mostly functional kitchen – although I’m still missing a few things. I’m trying to create an awesome kitchen here without taking too much away from the kitchen at the house – as people are living there and using it. It seems that every other day, I’m headed over there to take away another kitchen gadget that I cannot live without.

    I’ve been asked how I am feeling about chemo. This morning I was feeling rather lonely about it. I’m surrounded by people but they aren’t the gals from my support group who really get it. My neighbours want to help, but don’t really know how to. I’m pretty good at asking for what I need, but right now I don’t know what that is. I just wish I felt healthy. The lymph node dissection took more out of me than I expected. The port surgery is pretty minor, but it too is giving my body one more thing to heal.

    I also want to find the time to do some sewing – which feels like a luxury when the house is still full of boxes. Things are a complete mess in my office, where my sewing machines are. But I want to make a head covering or two before I need one – and that won’t be long. Last time it was really predictable – a couple of days after the second dose. With this chemo is isn’t so clear – it could start a few days after or a couple of weeks after. Either way, it won’t be long before I no longer have hair.

    I’m not afraid of losing my hair again – what I’m concerned about it whether or not it will grow back. Taxotere has been known to cause permanent hair loss. My oncologist dismissed that as a concern saying that it is very rare – but I know people who had to deal with it – so I know that it does happen. And since this is my second round of hair loss, it might be different.

    There is also the issue with nails. My toe nails on my big toes were a problem with chemo last time. I don’t know what they will be like this time. They might even fall out. They stopped growing (just the big toe nails) a few years ago. I’ve always had such nice nails – especially my finger nails. I wonder what this regime is going to do with them.

    And so, I’m doing some form of preparing. In some ways I’m nesting, but mostly I’m biding my time. With any luck we will get some nice weather for a few days so I can beach a couple of times before I start to feel like crap. I hate that treatment makes you feel bad – it is worse than the disease!

  • Ported

    Ported

    Yesterday morning, before the sun, we got up and drove to the local hospital (only a five minute drive) for my port surgery. This time, hubby just dropped me off – he came to pick me up in recovery, but there was no point in him waiting in prep as I was the first patient of the day (so much so that when the surgeon came to visit me for the pre-surgery discussion.consent, she didn’t have her scrubs on yet!).

    I was able to be awake for the entire surgery – so twilight sedation. I could even participate in some of the conversation, however, that posed a challenge as I had an oxygen mask on. It now occurs to me that when I did try and talk they got concerned I was saying something about the surgery (like ouch) rather than joining the conversation.

    Surgery went smoothly. The port was installed on the left because of my lymphedema on the right. She didn’t want to do anything that would further add to the lymphedema.

    On the lymphedema front, on Tuesday I was measured for a custom sleeve. The person doing it was an LPN (licenced practical nurse). She measured various things and we talked about where more or less compression was needed. A custom sleeve was ordered. This is very different then in the US where I was fitted for off-the-shelf sleeves. My current sleeves (from the US) aren’t working particularly well – I’m finding that they are increasing the puffiness of my hand – since most of the fluid pressure is in my hand and lower arm rather than the entire arm. I’m hoping the custom compression helps.

    With the surgery, I’m not allowed to swim for two weeks – assuming the wound heals. There are two cuts this time, but they are rather minimal, and the port feels smaller than I remember my other port feeling.

    In other port news – as in teleported – we moved to Treehouse Village 🙂 I has been years in the making – literally. We have been part of this project since the fall of 2019, and are so delighted that we have finally gotten to a point where we can live here. It is especially important now, with my health challenges. Even last night, when I realized I didn’t have any tylenol, all I needed to do was text a neighbour and some showed up at my doorstep. Not that you couldn’t do that in other communities, just that it is a normal thing to do here, so it is so easy to ask for help. Another example, I mentioned at a welcoming gatherings that I forgot to pack dish towels. One of my neighbours dropped by and lent me some of hers. I didn’t even need to ask. That is what being part of an intentional community is all about. Begin there for each other.

    I don’t yet have an appointment for my Muga scan. I was expecting it to be this week, but it doesn’t look like it. Hopefully they will be able to use my port for the scan (rather than having to do an IV) – but they might just do an injection. I need to do the scan before starting chemo, but I’m also OK with delaying chemo a week. I’m doing my flu and Covid vaccines next week and I’d rather not start chemo the same week as the vaccines, as I then I won’t be able to tell what the cause is for any symptoms I get.

    And so I wait – I heal and I wait – and I unpack and try to make some sense of the disaster that is currently our home.

  • Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday – busy times

    Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday – busy times

    It is interesting that when I look back on my first diagnosis, I was blogging daily – sometimes multiple times per day. I haven’t been doing that this time. Part of it is because I’ve fallen out of the habit of writing, something that I want to get back into.

    I do have some crazy updates on my life. I will have surgery on Wednesday to have my port inserted. I hope they use twilight sedation like the last time but I won’t know until I get there. I’ll find out on Monday what time the surgery will be. I am hoping it is first thing so I don’t have to spend too much of the day fasting.

    We found out that the house we are staying at did not sell (the sale fell through), so the house is now listed again. This means that if anyone wants to view it, it needs to look like no one lives here – that doesn’t really work for Scott and I. Since our unit at Treehouse is almost ready, we decided to move in on Tuesday. That means we are now doing the scrabble to get things ready for us to live there. Fortunately, we can live with a minimal setup, and we don’t have that much stuff we need right away. Most of our stuff will stay at our house (another Treehouse family is living at our place until the end of November).

    My biggest challenge is not overdoing it – but also making sure I make the time to do the right things. My morning this morning started off with a short virtual boxing workout. I’m limited to the easy level and less than 15 minutes until I get the strength back in my right arm. I am so glad to get back to boxing – and I really love the VR version – as I cannot handle the impact of real boxing – which is sad. I miss the people at the gym. We had so much fun.

    Anyways, for exercise right now, I’m boxing and swimming first thing. Swimming isn’t my usually lap swimming, rather it involves laps where I do some deep dives, and some laps where I let me arms flow while on my back. The goal is to help reduce the lymphatic swelling in my right arm – and the pool helps.

    In addition to moving this week, I have a dentist appointment to get my teeth cleaned pre-chemo. They don’t recommend it during chemo as you have an increased risk of infection. On Tuesday I have a fitting appointment for new compression sleeves. I’m using my old ones, and they aren’t the best – they are better than nothing, but I’d like to get something better which are likely to be more effective and possibly more comfortable. On Wednesday I have surgery.

    I’m waiting on an appointment for the heart test and then a schedule for chemo. I will call the cancer navigator on Monday to see if I can get any more information on when these things are expected to start. Once I have dates, I can plan a little better.

    It occurred to me today that I will be living the next year in 3-week intervals. Although herceptin is well tolerated, it is still an infusion every three weeks. That will put a bit of a damper on summer holidays – as we will need to plan around the infusions. I don’t know if they will let me extend one out for a few weeks, or do one at a different hospital in Nova Scotia – so that we can go on a 6-week vacation. After so many years building Treehouse, I am looking forward to spending a little time travelling around the area in our van. I miss camping.

    Another thing I learned the first time was to plan to celebrate various milestones. The first big milestone will be the completion of TC chemo. By then my arm should be fully better (might still have lymphedema but I should have my strength back post surgery). Before I go into radiation, I’d like to do a ski trip. We are looking at Club Med in Charleveau Quebec. I like the idea of an all inclusive so that I don’t have to think about meals. Otherwise, I’d spend have the vacation planning meals and cooking – sure, it would be cheaper, but it would be much less of a vacation for me. Of course I cannot book anything until I have a sense of schedule – and they have a sale until Tuesday so hopefully that will all come together.

    And now, it is time to take my dear Cali for a walk before I go to site and do some more finishing work on my unit in preparation for our Tuesday move. I’m definitely not getting bored!

  • Joining the cancer blogosphere

    I have been blogging for a few weeks now, but I have been very hesitant to read other people’s cancer blogs. I’ve been hesitant to reach out to too many others who are going through similar experiences to mine. In part, this is a form a denial, in part it is a form of fear.

    I have strong online relationships. I am part of several online communities where I find strength and much needed support. But, to join a cancer community means to admit that I have cancer – but there is more to it than that – it is the fear of joining a community and then losing people in that community. I’m OK with admitting I have cancer, but I’m not OK with admitting that it is something that might one day kill me. I’m afraid that if I develop solid friendships with others who have cancer, that I’ll lose them. I don’t want to have to deal with the death of a good friend – and so, I hesitate. I hesitate to reach out too much to others who are also going through this experience – not because I don’t want to meet these people or get to know them – just that I don’t want to get to know them and then lose them.

    But I also realize that I need them. I need to read about others experiences. I need to learn from them. I also need to share my experiences, so that others can learn from me. It is this need that is driving me to participate in the online communities (and face-to-face support groups as well), but I must admit, that I do it with hesitation and a bit of fear. Afraid to get too close to anyone who I might lose.

  • I’m ready

    I am so ready to make the transition from someone with breast cancer to someone fighting breast cancer. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I begin chemotherapy – assuming the heart ultrasound and blood tests say I’m healthy. Ironic (in an Alanis Morissette kinda way), the idea of being in ‘excellent health’ and having cancer at the same time.

    I’ve got everything laid out for my ‘cancer’ bag – that is the bag I bring with me when I go up to Stanford for the day. I received it from BC Connections, a local Breast Cancer support organizations. It has proven to be very handy (both the bag and the organization itself, as this is where I go to support group on Saturday afternoons). I have even chosen my clothing for the day. I bought a new t-shirt that has a low neck line so that my port is easily accessible. I’ve included:

    • A nice warm blanket/wrap that I received from the Three Willows church where my in-laws go (thank-you).
    • A scarf that I received from my friend Maha in Egypt (thank-you).
    • Care squares that came from a family friend (thank-you).
    • A teddy bear that Scott brought me when I was in the hospital for surgery before we were married (with the Canadian connection Hudson Bay sweater).
    • Some snacks and electrolyte mixes to add to my water bottle.
    • My cancer treatment binder, which includes a bunch a cards and the caring card I received from the Ottawa First Unitarian Congregation (thank-you), the card my mom sent with a hope rock on it, and various post cards sent from distant friends (thank-you).
    • Headphones, so I can watch TV or listen to music or podcasts. I have a collection of Vinyl Cafe Stories and Under the Influence podcasts preloaded on my iPhone.

    2014-07-06 07.03.36I hope I’m not forgetting anything. I will also bring both my laptop, my iPad, and iPhone. I have no idea what I’m going to feel like doing during chemo. Scott will be there to help lug my stuff – bringing both the laptop and iPad seems a little redundant, but if I am in the mood for any serious writing (beyond blogging), my laptop has scrivener on it. Plus my laptop let’s me watch TV shows from Canadian networks, which I cannot do on my iPad.

    I’d also like to thank John and especially Alison for the lovely quilt they sent. BC Connections had quilts for anyone going through chemo but I chose not to take one, as I see so many other women that need it more than I do. The following Monday, I received a lovely quilt from Alison and John in the mail. It has turned out to be perfect for our bed, as our down duvet was too warm for this time of year, but going with a just a duvet cover wasn’t warm enough – we were having trouble finding just the right balance, and the quilt is proving to be just that.

    Everything that I’ve read so far about chemo side effects says that it varies by the person. I’ll either be tired for the first few days or overly energetic for the first few days and then tired towards the end of the cycle. If you know me, you know that I like to plan things. This whole uncertainty over how I will react is driving me crazy. I just need to know if I’ll be able to get some work done for a few days here and there or not.

    Since diagnosis, my life has been pretty focused around improving my health (lots of long bike rides and long walks); enjoying myself (sailing, going to Yosemite for a couple of days; various medical tests, scans and appointments; and learning a whole lot about breast cancer in general, and specifically about the treatment options for the type of cancer that I have. I have put all my contract work on hold (fortunately, that was possible). I’m now starting to go stir crazy, and hope to get back to some of that work – however, I just don’t know how I will react to chemo, so I’m afraid to jump into anything right now. So the wait game continues … today I wait … I’m going to go for a swim, go out to the market (now that my stomach is sorted, we need some food in the house – although chemo may change that too), and maybe even go for a bike ride.

     

     

  • I’m an educator (and my public service announcement)

    A couple weeks ago I was reflecting on who I am. I reported to the blog, that I am an academic, but further reflection has me questioning that. Mostly in the form of what type of academic. Since diagnosis, I haven’t been able to read a single academic article. I’ve browsed through a few, but my concentration and interest have not been there. I’m may not be approaching this ‘cancer’ problem as an academic, but I do want to approach it as an educator.

    I don’t call myself a teacher. To me, teacher means the person who leads K-12 classrooms – a person who helps kids learn. I don’t work with kids. I don’t even work with the average adult. When I teach, it is usually to professionals – I teach teachers and doctors how to use technology. I educate, I don’t teach.

    I also educate through my writing. As an instructional designer, I have done a lot of educational writing. I create training programs and packages that are designed to help professionals learn new skills.

    But what does that have to do with this? I find myself wondering how my cancer can be turned into an educational experience? Who would I be educating? Who can learn from my experiences? How can I make most out of this experience from an educational point of view.

    In the first part, I want people to learn what a ‘lump’ in the breast feels like. I kind of wish more residents were involved in my care at Stanford – more people taking an interest and learning from my experience. I had no idea what a cancerous lump felt like, even when it happened to me. I recall in a health education class the nurse bringing in a mannequin breast that had a lump in it, to give us a sense of what a lump felt like. I also remember never being able to feel that lump. I remember feeling my young breasts as a teenager and wondering if everything I felt was a lump – as I had pretty lumpy breasts (not a lot of fatty breast tissue back then – perhaps they taught the class a little too early for me!).

    This links me directly to a charity that Sarah Outen supports on her round-the-world human powered journey. I’ve been following Sarah’s journey since it began a couple of years ago. One of the charities she is fundraising for is called “Coppafeel“, and it is about awareness for breast cancer in young women. The idea is to get women used to the habit of checking their breast every time they get in the shower. They will even sent you reminders if you sign up. I actually don’t recall where or when I picked that habit up, but I know that I did. I was never good at the laying down in bed and checking once a month, but I did form the habit of inspecting my breasts every time I got in the shower. That is how I knew that something had changed – that after my bike ride June 1st there was a mass there that had not been there before. I didn’t realize at the time that it was cancer – I thought that after the somewhat rough bike ride (a lot was on dirt path) that perhaps I had strained something – although it wasn’t sore, it was just solid. One thing I really want to point out here, is that it isn’t necessarily about feeling a ‘lump’, rather it is about noticing a change. In young women (under 45) most breast cancers are found through self-examination – you feel something has changed.

    What a lot of people don’t realize is that although you are at increased risk for breast cancer if an immediate family member has had it, “about 85% of breast cancers occur in women who have no family history of breast cancer. These occur due to genetic mutations that happen as a result of the aging process and life in general, rather than inherited mutations.”(http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/understand_bc/statistics). So, although there is a lot of press about the hereditary breast cancers, for the majority of women, it is a completely unexpected thing that happens. In some ways, the press about hereditary cancers hinders things like screening, as women think that because no one in their family has had it, then it couldn’t happen to them. I certainly thought that. Breast cancer was never something that I was even remotely concerned about (although I still inspected my boobs every time I got in the shower, cause, why not?).

    So, all you women out there, get in the habit (especially if you are too young for routine mammograms) … every time you jump in the shower, coppafeel!

  • Breast surgery

    I am coming to appreciate the roles of the different surgeons. I have not yet met with a plastic surgeon (PS), but will probably set that appointment up in the next few weeks just to get the conversation started. With breast cancer in the US, you are usually dealing with at least two surgeries. The first surgery is done by the breast surgeon (BS). This surgeon specializes in removing the cancer. You can have either a mastectomy (where they remove the entire breast) or a lumpectomy (where they just remove the cancer). That is an overly simplified explanation – as both surgeries depend on what you plan to do after – that is the reconstruction or no reconstruction. The two surgeons work together to help give you the look you want post-surgery. Some of the choices your breast surgeon makes depends directly on what you want the final outcome to be.

    So, it occurs to me after looking at several pictures of not too nice results post mastectomy/lumpectomy surgery, that I want a plastic surgeon that has experience doing trans female-male top surgery. You see, if the plastic surgeon knows how to do trans surgery well, then they would appreciate the importance of appearance. And if they have experience with female-male trans surgery then they would get what it means to be flat. I’m surprise to realize that appearance matters to me. I want to look good naked … I’m OK with being flat – not having breasts – so I don’t think reconstruction makes sense for me (at least that is my current thinking) – but I do want to look good naked. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and be proud of what I see (rather than sad). I’ve been warned never to look down … the downward view of your breasts is the view the only you see, and it will never be the same … everyone else sees the outward view!

    One thing that I find very interesting in this process is that I have a greatly improved body image. I would not have expected that result. I’m a lot less vain now – and a lot less worried about my other lumps and bumps – but I do want to be able to go topless. I don’t want to have to feel like I need to cover up because I have odd disfigured lumps and bumps where my breasts used to be.

    I’m reminded of my early days when one breast started growing before the other (midway through grade six if I recall correctly). I found myself wearing training bras because I did not want to look lopsided – I always used one of the stalls to change in PE class, cause I didn’t want the other girls to notice that I was lopsided. Now, I find myself wanting to be the poster child for women with mastectomy who choose not to reconstruct – I want to model swim suits for real women. A few months ago, I supported a Kickstarter campaign for Nettle’s Tale swimwear. I bought a swimsuit but never got around to sending them my sizing information (couldn’t find the measuring tape in my Ottawa apartment). After diagnose I reached out to the folks at Nettles Tale as I cannot give measurements now and I’m also not sure whether the suit I picked will work!  I threw out the idea to the folks at Nettle’s Tale swimwear of modeling for them as they are hoping to come out with a new line of swimsuits that support prosthetic boobs. They were excited about the idea, but of course nothing is planned yet (I don’t live in Vancouver, which poses a challenge, but also it will be a year before I’d be ready anyways) – but I thought I’d share that I am serious when I say that I want to be a swimsuit model when this is all done!

    I learned a new word the other day – foobs – which is short for fake boobs. I had heard falsies before, but foobs was new to me. Today I learned that the best place to buy a variety of foobs is eBay. Buying new can be rather expensive (eventually I’ll need to see what my insurance will cover). Since both the breast cancer and the trans community use them, there is a market for lightly used foobs. You learn something new every day!

  • A pre-treatment trip

    One of the bits of advice I received was to try and get away before you start treatment. Both Scott and I needed a couple of days to enjoy ourselves and enjoy nature. Since we already had plans to head up to Yosemite, we decide that we would modify our plans slightly and still go up. We left early on Tuesday morning and spent the night at the historic Wawona Hotel. This allowed us to spend two days hiking and biking around Yosemite.

    On the drive up, we stopped briefly at the Don Pedro Reservoir. It reminded me very much of the Dead Sea from our Going East adventure. I’m finding that a lot of things are reminding me of various aspects of our Going East adventure.

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    My favourite selfie of the trip. The giant sequoia in the background had branches that were 7 feet thick – thicker than any non-sequoia tree in the park. It was amazing to see. I was also struck but how different the sequoias are from the giant redwoods in Big Basin.

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    We took a lot of photos, so I’ve put them in a gallery for anyone interested in seeing them.

    We now have a few days to prep the apartment, go sailing, and biking before chemo starts on Monday. I’m feeling ready for it now – much more ready than I was even a few days ago.

  • Nature has more beauty

    Someone in one of my networks commented that after diagnosis, nature has more beauty. That suddenly you are more aware of the beauty that surrounds you. I’ve definitely noticed that when I go out riding or walking. I’m finding the bike path behind our place particularly beautiful these days.

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    Today, rather than riding (it was a hot day here), we waited until it started to cool off and went for a nice long walk (dug out the pedometer – 7500 steps). When we ride up on the path we noticed a natural area between the path and the street. Today we walked through that area. Many of the plants are labelled and there are several information plaques throughout. Apparently, it is the last “forest” area in Santa Clara. Santa Clara is bordered by the San Francisco Bay in the north and cities on all other sides (Milpitas, San Jose, Sunnyvale, Cupertino, Campbell, etc).

    We came across a grove of old eucalyptus trees. In this photo you can see the different phases of their life cycle – shedding layers of old bark to allow the new growth. Every time I see this I think, that is soon to be me, shedding my hair, nails, and other fast growing body parts (and tumors), to allow for new healthy growth. I am very curious what colour my new hair will be!

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    Walking back along the path, with heightened senses I noticed a family of snails on the shrubs that bordered the path. After noticing the first bunch, we realized that there were families of snails on the shrubs all along the path. We have walked this path several times and never noticed them before. Of course, my heightened senses might also be attributable to my new glasses, that let me actually see clearly at that distance – but still – I’m sure there is also an aspect of the cancer that I can attribute to this perception.

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  • Scrapbooking

    I saw a Facebook post from a friend the other day about scrapbooking. It isn’t something I’ve wanted to do before – what on earth would I do with a scrapbook once it was done. But now, I’m receiving so many wonderful post cards and other such beautiful ‘thinking of you’ that my cancer binder is filling up (I have a binder that they use to chemo treatments and reactions, where I started to put the various cards and letters).

    I know nothing of scrapbooking, so I decided to Google it. Apparently, cancer scrapbooking is quite common – it is a way to trace your journey and give it a life of its own. There are many different layout suggestions, but these are focused mostly on a way to capture your journey – which I’m already doing in this blog.

    So friends who are scrapbookers, any recommendations for a good starter-kit or must-have items? I don’t really want more stuff (we have a small apartments and are constantly looking for way to remove stuff not add it). The purpose of the scrapbook is mostly to help keep track of all the wonderful gifts I’m receiving and the various warm thoughts – it is is more of a ‘we are thinking of you’ scrapbook rather than a cancer book per se.  Most of my journey itself will be posted on the blog (with lots of photos) and my quantified medical self is tracked in my cancer binder already.

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