The club

I am now part of two clubs I never signed up for.  

The first is the chemo club.  We meet regularly when we go for our chemotherapy treatments.  The members of the club change regularly, although there are some I recognize from previous meetings. We all sit together in a room, waiting for our names to be called for the treatment that will drip poison into our veins - poison that, strangely, is supposed to cure this thing we have in common. 

After our names are called, we sit together in a different room, hooked up to IVs, participants in this strange meeting for however long it takes for our treatments.  For some, it's six or more hours; for others, less than an hour.  We occasionally make eye contact, speak to each other about our cancer, where we are in our treatment, the side effects we've had ... it's all about the cancer.  Then we retreat into sleep, or our books or our iPads and tablets, waiting for the moment the IV bag is empty, the needles taken out of our arms or PICCS or ports and we can go home and try to pick up the rhythm of our lives again.  "See you next time," we say as we smile and wave to those left in the room.

The second club is the cancer club.  I became aware I unwittingly joined this club the first time I went shopping with a scarf to cover my bald head.  Because I was obviously in treatment, I was approached by two women - both well meaning and kind - so they could tell me about their experiences with cancer.  The first woman made it short and sweet - she expressed her support as a survivor of cancer and wished me luck.  It was nice.  The second was more involved - her sister had had cancer twice and had survived, but she gave me too many details about the pain her sister went through to make it a comfortable and comforting conversation. 

Since then, I have been approached by others ... cancer survivors and friends or relatives of cancer survivors.  We are all in this big club together, all touched in some way by cancer, all suddenly tuned in to each other because of our fight against a common enemy.  

I'm not sure how I feel about being a member of these two clubs.  Obviously, I'd rather not have cancer - that would automatically take me out of the running for membership.  Yet there's something nice about other people's need to reach out to assure me that it will be all right - they survived; their sister/mother/aunt/cousin survived; the implication is that all will be well.  And that's nice to hear, because sometimes the fear takes over and the future looks very short.

My membership in the chemo club will end soon and I'm not sorry I won't be going to any more meetings.  The cancer club, however, will be a lifelong membership, whether I want it to be or  not.  I don't have to be an active member - I don't have to reach out to others who are going through what I go through now; I don't have to reassure them or wish them luck.  But I will be a member nonetheless.  And if I'm a member, I might as well put that membership to good use.  I have appreciated what others have said to or done for me and I feel I have an obligation to do the same for others.  I just have to figure out how to show my membership card in a helpful way.

What a year ...

I mentioned earlier that this has been an eventful year.  Unfortunately, eventful has also meant stressful and we - Jim and I - are both experiencing a really bad year.  We've had things happen that affect both of us, and it's easily the hardest year we've had in the 30-plus years we've been married.

It's not just the sale of our house and the move to a different kind of house in a totally different kind of neighbourhood (although the move is a whole story in itself - let's just say we chose poorly when we chose our mover); it goes way beyond that.  It's about potential job loss - twice.  It's about health scares.  And mostly it's about health scares becoming reality.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer on the same day our house deal went through.  On a day when I should have been happy, I was in tears because I'd just read a report that said I had breast cancer.  Somehow, a step got missed and instead of my doctor telling me I had cancer, I received a phone call from my doctor's office that I had an appointment with a surgeon the next day, and would I please pick up the CD with all the test results and take it with me.  It was in the packet with the CD that I found the report that said I had cancer.   

That was back in May, and since then I've had surgery and have started treatment.  Boy, have I learned a lot in the few months since I was diagnosed.  And what I've learned is mostly what I'll be talking about in subsequent posts.  

But it won't all be about the cancer and treatment, though - it can never be all about the cancer.  My life cannot be all about cancer, although right now it takes up a lot of my time and energy.  One of the things I  have learned is that having cancer is, at times, almost a full time job - there's not much room for anything else.  But I have to make room for other things and think about other things because another thing I've learned is that once I start thinking about cancer too much, the fear takes over and cancer is all I think about.  I can't let that happen. 

So here begins the conversation I never thought I would have.

I hate HGTV

This spring we finally got busy and listed our house for sale. It’s something we’ve been talking about and working toward for a couple of years now, and we just reached the point where it was time.

What an experience. It was, at best, disappointing; at worst – horrible. Part of it was our choice of real estate agent, part was being the owners of a 50-55 year old house with all its quirks and shortcomings and the rest was entirely attributable to the HGTV effect.

On HGTV, there are two kinds of properties – those which have been renovated and those which require renovation. There is nothing in between. There’s no room for a home that needs a bit of updating but is entirely liveable, attractive and homey. It automatically falls under the “requires renovation” category.

Many real estate salespeople and home buyers have bought into the HGTV assessment of properties. It’s crazy. A new, attractive laminate countertop must be replaced because it is not granite. The new sink and stylish faucet will be replaced because a new countertop deserves a new sink and faucet. Kitchen lighting must be replaced because the fixtures aren’t pot lights. And the pot lights that are there must be replaced because they aren’t *new* pot lights. The house must be repainted despite the fact that it was repainted in the recommended popular colours less than a year ago because … well, just because. And on it goes …

One side of the HGTV coin is that everyone wants entirely renovated and “move in ready” condition. But it’s move in ready according to what HGTV tells them – nothing less or different will do. Granite countertops and stainless steel appliances only – nothing else is allowed. Hardwood flooring throughout – can’t have laminate.

The other side of the HGTV coin is that if there’s work to be done, real estate agents and buyers consider the property should be had at bargain basement prices because they “have” to renovate. Well …actually… it’s rare that people *have* to renovate. The house may not be tarted up exactly the way they’d like it to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s a dump in need of an overhaul. Newsflash, folks … just because you *want* to renovate doesn’t mean the house is in need of renovation. You don’t get a big discount because it’s not up to HGTV standards.

Don’t get me wrong. I love house hunting shows and home renovation shows and all that stuff on HGTV. They are fun to watch, but they are not real life. They are entertainment. They are staged and well edited to show drama to make them interesting to watch. They should not be taken so seriously or accepted as gospel.

Just think about it … if everyone used their own judgement about what made a house liveable for them instead of ticking off the boxes on the list of HGTV-approved features, our living spaces would be a whole lot more interesting and representative of who we are instead of reflecting what’s fashionable at the moment. Sort of what it was like before we started watching designers and contractors tell us how we should live.

I'm baaaack

Wow - it's been about a year since I last posted.  Time has passed so quickly.

This has been a pretty eventful year for us, and now it's time to start the conversation again.