But this year, my Christmas is a tad different than most other years, because I am spending Christmas week recovering from major surgery.

A few days ago, I had an Oophorectomy, which is a fancy way of saying that my ovaries have been yanked out of my body through my belly button.

Yep, it’s about as much fun as it sounds!

The reason? Well, it’s been done as a preventative measure so that my body can no longer produce estrogen, and therefore, dramatically reduce the possibility of breast cancer ever returning in the future.

See, the whole reason I got breast cancer in the first place was because I was cursed with a steady flow of estrogen. I’m a girl.

The idea behind depleting my estrogen stores is to “starve” any tiny remaining cancer cells, thus taking away their ability to grow into scary tumours.

So, I’m stuck in bed for a couple of weeks, taking some time to heal and recuperate, which has given me way too much time on my hands!

What do I choose to do with my spare time?

…Compose a silly Christmas song, and share it with you, of course!

See, ever since my chemotherapy treatments last year, I’ve been forced into early onset menopause through hormone blocking therapy (see reasons above…estrogen is bad for me now).

Let me tell you, being forced into early onset menopause isn’t fun! Under normal circumstances, when women begin menopause, it’s a gradual decline in estrogen, which means you gradually adjust and gradually go through the changes.

In my case, I didn’t experience menopause…I experienced menoCRASH!

There was no time to adjust. One day I was a normal, youngish woman, with normal hormonal fluctuations.

The next day, I had all my estrogen completely blocked and was fast forwarded about ten years with zero warning.

And all this happened during the first few months of my marriage. My husband is truly a saint!

Two and a half years ago, he married a 36 year old vivacious woman, and within 6 months, he found himself married to a fully menopausal, irritable, tearful, cranky woman with night sweats.

And now that my ovaries are gone, I sincerely hope I’ll be post-menopausal soon, so my entire family can start breathing normally again.

But where was I? (Did I forget to mention that menopause is hell on my ability to remember the simplest things?)

Oh! Right! My silly Christmas song!

I got to thinking about the many new “blessings” that I have in my life after breast cancer treatments, which led my thoughts towards the 12 days of Christmas song.

I, of course, decided that it needed to be re-worded in honor of menopause, so without further pre-empting, here’s my version of “The 12 Days of Christmas”…

“The 12 Days of A Freakin’ Menopausal Christmas”

On the first day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…

…A husband who tolerates me.

On the second day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the third day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
5 midnight snacks!
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
6 bouts of crying
5 midnight snacks!
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
7 psycho moodswings,
6 bouts of crying
5 midnight snacks!
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
8 fans a blowin’,
7 psycho moodswings,
6 bouts of crying
5 midnight snacks!
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
9 cranky glances,
8 fans a blowin’,
7 psycho moodswings,
6 bouts of crying
5 midnight snacks!
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
10 pounds a gainin’,
9 cranky glances,
8 fans a blowin’,
7 psycho moodswings,
6 bouts of crying
5 midnight snacks!
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
11 screaming migraines,
10 pounds a gainin’,
9 cranky glances,
8 fans a blowin’,
7 psycho moodswings,
6 bouts of crying
5 midnight snacks!
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my menopause gave to me…
12 red hot flashes,
11 screaming migraines,
10 pounds a gainin’,
9 cranky glances,
8 fans a blowin’,
7 psycho moodswings,
6 bouts of crying
5 midnight snacks!
4 soaking bedsheets,
3 nervous breakdowns,
2 bloaty ankles,
…And a husband who tolerates me.

– Lyrics by Sylvie Fortin –

And to truly “celebrate” the joys of menopause, I’d like to share with you a hysterical cartoon I found at MinniePauze.com entitled “The 7 Menopausal Dwarfs”.

Enjoy!

PS. Have a very Merry Christmas! No, really! I mean that sincerely. What? You’re laughing? What are you laughing at, huh? Are you mocking me? After all I do for this blog!?!? And you have the gall to keep reading?!?! Who do you think I am… Your “entertainment”? Geesh! Get %$&#@ing real! What? You’re leaving? But… But… You said you loved this blog! You don’t love me anymore!!! *sobbing*

Sigh… sniff…

OK, I’m over it now.

Time for a cold shower.

See you next year!

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I’ve also created a series of products with this theme. Click here to preview this “Mastercard Priceless Parody” product series. A portion of all sales go towards supporting breast cancer research and awareness.

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But really, I am completely amazed at how time flies.

September 11th of this year marked the first anniversary of my mastectomy.

On that day in 2006, I went under the knife and had my left breast removed. On that day, I officially began my new life.

And on that day, my world, my thoughts, my feelings, and my priorities, completely and radically changed.

I really wasn’t fully aware of what I was facing, and I wasn’t completely aware of how close to dying I really was on that day.

See, what I didn’t realize was that, statistically speaking, if I had refused treatment or taken too much time to think about it, I had less than one year to live.

If I hadn’t decided to act quickly and go through all four of the treatment regimens (including mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation, and estrogen blocking therapy) I would not likely have made it to the one year mark.

Yes, my particular type of breast cancer was furiously aggressive and, if left untreated, would have certainly caused my demise.

And it hit me…

If I was born 50 or more years ago, and had been diagnosed with this same exact form of breast cancer, I would not likely have lived to write this blog post today.

Essentially, I owe my existence to modern medicine.

My body would have failed me at the age of 36 or 37, without the aid of modern medicine and ultra-modern chemo treatments.

Wow! How can I possibly express how this makes me feel?

There simply aren’t enough words to define how I feel about this. Shocked? Yes. Amazed? Absolutely.

But I think the word that comes closest to defining it is “Grateful”.

I am grateful for every day that passes and I’m still healthy. I am planning on being around for a lot of years.

I can afford to plan for this because my life was saved one year ago.

An entire team of medical specialists rushed to my aid and with their help, I am in remission today.

I plan to stay in remission for the rest of my life.

And no matter what, every day that passes is a gift. It’s a gift I am humbled by. It’s a glorious, wonderful, beautiful gift I would not have been entitled to a few years ago.

No matter what happens from now until I am old and gray and ready to move on…I am acutely aware that none of my day-to-day experiences could have happened if it were not for the love, kindness, caring, and advanced medical treatments I’ve received.

I see the world differently now. I don’t know how to explain how my perceptions have changed.

Everything that happens, whether it is good or bad, is an experience I have been gifted with.

If my kids get on my nerves, I am grateful for it because I am still available to be irritated by them.

If I feel overworked, I am grateful that I can still be around to run my business and experience the stress.

If I invent a new product or have a new business idea, I am grateful for it, because I know it is one more idea I would never have had time to invent.

If I go on a trip, I am grateful for the chance to see one more exotic location I could have died never having seen it.

If I wake up in a cold sweat from having a bad dream, I smile knowing it is a dream I would never have seen.

I have no idea what the future will bring. I don’t know if I will ever have my breast reconstructed. I am not sure what experiences I will have before my next Mastectomy Anniversary. I can’t be 100% certain that my cancer won’t come back.

But I know this…

Every experience, every smile, every tear, every feeling, every thought, every thing that happens is a gift I’ve been given.

It’s the Gift of LIFE

P.S. I may not post much to this blog in the weeks and months ahead, but don’t worry.

It is quite simply because I am spending more time living than I ever did before. I’m getting out there, living, loving, and laughing. I’m experiencing each moment I have left. Whether I have 1 year or 50 years to live, I intend to do what brings me the most joy.

The Gift is very precious to me, and I accept it with open heart and open arms.

Thank you for sharing my journey!

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Since my chemo has been officially over (forever) I have been desperately trying to get caught up on all the workload that fell behind while I was concentrating on getting better. So, I haven’t had a lot of time to write on this blog.

But I definitely need to take some time out to showcase some of the heroes that have helped me through this time in my life and talk about some people who have been inspired to turn my lemons into even more lemonade.

Bikers Who Love Boobs

First, I want to draw your attention to a couple who is doing something right this minute to raise funds to fight breast cancer. And they have such a unique twist that I couldn’t resist talking about it. See, Clayton and Wendy Makepeace are auctioning a very special tshirt on eBay to raise money for breast cancer. Well, I’m just going to have to let you see it for yourself. It’s too funny! Click here to bid on this one-of-a-kind item.

Thank you, Wendy and Clayton, and Julie too! You are my heroes!

Then, there’s Michelle Galvin, Mike Filsaime’s assistant and a good friend of mine, who was inspired by my Shaveathon event to cut off her very long hair and donate it to Locks of Love as well. Here are her before and after pictures…

Before

After

Thank you Michelle! You don’t know how much this meant to me.

Then there are all the wonderful people who have sent me surprise gifts. You can check out the list of gift givers and benefactors here.

And there are all the people who participated in my Shaveathon event, before I started my chemo treatments. Click here to check out that list of amazing people.

You guys have amazed me with your generous spirit and caring for those who needed you the most, including me.

But there are other people who have been quietly making a huge difference in my life, and have made this entire experience completely worth going through.

Because of them, I never felt alone.

I never felt overwhelmed by it all. They kept my spirits up. They kept me laughing, even when I felt like crying. They inspired me to keep my chin up and keep a positive attitude.

They helped me with the every day necessities and helped me with handling things so I wouldn’t have to worry about the little things.

They are my own personal heroes, and without them, I don’t know if I could have stayed sane.

Hero Number One: My husband

Michel has been my rock throughout it all. He’s been my emotional support system. He made me laugh every single day. There hasn’t been a day that went by without him telling me how beautiful I am. And he says it in such a way that he makes me believe it…even on days when I have felt the most unattractive.

It’s hard to feel beautiful on some days. There were times when I would look in the mirror and see nothing but a patchy-head, bald eyebrows and eyelashes, pale sickly skin, dark circles under my eyes, bruises from the needles, the ten extra flabby pounds I gained because of chemo (which really sucks since I was certain I was going to lose weight), and the ghastly red scar on my chest. My eyes would mist up in the mirror and, wouldn’t you know it, that was the moment he would walk in the room. He always seemed to know when I felt most like an ugly duckling, and he would be right there to kiss me, wrap his arms around me, and tell me over and over again how beautiful I was. And I knew he meant it.

He’s been there to help me laugh and help me cry. He’s never missed a chemotherapy treatment or a doctor’s appointment. This wasn’t my breast cancer. It was OUR breast cancer.

Thank you baby. I love you. You are so beautiful to me!

Hero Number Two: My brother

My brother set aside his life to help me through all this. And I will never forget it. He basically moved in with us these last few months.

He has been my physical support system, helping me with the everyday things around the house, the groceries, helping with cleaning, cooking, taking care of everything so I wouldn’t have to worry about it.

My brother is not a man who talks about his feelings. He isn’t the type of man who wants to spend time talking about anyone else’s feelings either. He’s a DOer. He expresses himself in actions, not words.

And his feelings were made clear to me throughout all of this.

When he learned that chemotherapy would drop my white blood cell count down to dangerously low levels, leaving me susceptible to infections, my brother went on a mad rampage around the house, and Lysol spray became his constant companion. He scrubbed walls and doorknobs. He bought toothbrush holders for everyone, to make sure my toothbrush never came in contact with anyone else’s. He wiped, cleaned, scrubbed, and disinfected every surface of this house. And he did it without drawing attention to himself.

My brother was never a “give the ladies flowers” kind of guy. He’s just not the type. But he bought me flowers when I came home from having my mastectomy, and he has bought me roses every single time I went for chemo treatments, every two weeks, without fail. He even dried the roses and saved them for me in a beautiful vase, knowing I would cherish that memory for the rest of my life.

His love and concern for me has showed through in everything he did, and he will always be my hero, not just because he is my big brother, but because he stuck with me through one of the darkest times in my life.

Thank you Lou! I love you so much and I will never forget it.

Hero Number Three: My children

This has been tough on my kids. The fear of knowing that mom was facing a life-threatening illness is something I wish no children ever had to experience.

But through it all, they have been there for me, and I for them. They have managed to still be teenagers and they listened to me when I told them not to treat me like I was dying. They knew I would pull through, and I was so glad they were the same as they always were before…wonderful, fabulous, frustrating teenagers. As much as living with teenagers can be trying on any parent, I was always so happy to see them being their own normal selves. It meant that life continued, and that they KNEW I was going to be fine.

It would have been heart-wrenching for me if they behaved less than normal, because that would have meant that they were living in fear.

So, thank you to my kids, my wonderfully aggravating and fabulous kids. Thank you for not tippy-toeing around me like I was old and feeble. Thank you for driving me crazy. Thank you for having faith in me to pull through. Thank you for helping out whenever you could. And most of all, thank you for listening to everything. It meant the world to me to know you wanted to hear it all and you faced it with me bravely. I love you.

My Medical Heroes

Before I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I had a nearly spotless medical record. I rarely got sick, and even when I did, it was not often serious. So, years would go by between doctor’s visits and the last time I was in a hospital was when my babies were born.

But once I was diagnosed with breast cancer, suddenly I had an entire medical team who worked feverishly to help me get better. I suddenly had teams of doctors and nurses, and a host of contact numbers for people who were available to me, day or night, who I could call to ask any inane question that might cross my mind.

I had doctors and nurses at a variety of hospitals in the area. I even had housecall nurses who would come to my house every two weeks during chemo.

And I have been absolutely amazed at the genuine kindness they each brought to my life.

These people have a tough job. Cancer is a scary illness, and it strikes people of all ages. I can’t imagine what it must be like to see so many depressed and terrified people every single day.

I don’t know how they do it, but they are amazing. They were friendly, they laughed at all my dumb jokes, they even talked about my blog to other patients, encouraging them to come read it!

They answered all my questions and took so much time to explain everything I needed to know about what to expect from the illness, and my treatments.

They don’t want me to mention their names, so I will respect that wish, but if you’re reading this, you know who you are. You saved my life, and I will never forget what you’ve done, and continue to do, for me and for all the other patients that you help through a very difficult time in their lives as well.

Thank you, to all my heroes! You mean the world to me.

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Chemo is finally over. Woot!

No more boring, six-hour-long days spent in the chemo ward… no more burning arms from intravenous chemicals coursing through my veins… no more mouth sores, numb toes and red eyes caused by those few remaining eyelashes accidentally falling into my eye socket.

And, best of all, no more fuzziness caused by that all-too common side-effect: chemo brain.

I’ve had eight chemo sessions in all. It’s been a really tough five months, not so much with the chemo itself but with its after-effects, ranging from complete exhaustion to complete hairloss. My failed attempts to retain whatever strands of hair I have left on my body seem like a constant, losing battle.

Thankfully, we’re done. And the hair will start growing back in. (Michel, my wonderful husband, seems to have noticed a peach-fuzz-like growth on my scalp the other day. Ah, I knew I loved him for a reason!)

There’s a bit of a break before radiation starts, as there is a mandatory waiting period between treatment types. They only start in another couple of weeks, so until then it’s a much needed break.

I’m scheduled to have five weeks of daily radiation doses. That means, 15-minute hospital visits, each day, for five weeks. (But the side-effects, I’m told, are a lot more manageable than chemo!)

I did have to go back to the hospital, though, for a radiation “preparation session.” That is, they explain the procedure in-depth, and take measurements of my chest wall to calculate and “mark” exactly where the machine will be placed during the procedure, as to not affect any surrounding vital organs such as the heart.

This gave me a temporary moment of glory of sorts.

You see, my mother called me from Florida the other day (she’s a snowbird and flies southward for the winter months, where some of my family still live), and I unwillingly caused a slight moment of panic when I told her, “Mom, I got my very first tattoo!”

She was relieved when I told her that my “tattoo” was really a tiny pinhead dot to guide the radiation machine that will be nuking my chest every day for the next five weeks. But I nevertheless relished those few seconds when I almost made my mother faint. She also didn’t like my follow-up remark, which was, “And guess what? My next one is going to be a nipple!” (The uncontrollable giggling didn’t help things, either.)

The toughest part of this entire process thus far is, chemo truly knocks the wind out of me for a few days after each session. I can stand the mouth sores. I can stand the exhaustion (mind you, it’s a great excuse to nap during the day!). But my biggest gripe is, above all, having to deal with “chemo brain.”

Doctors are not sure what causes this. But it’s very common among cancer patients. And I can tell you that there were moments when I felt utterly distraught by my lack of focused concentration, my low mental energy, and my short-term memory lapses.

My poor family had to endure those occasional moments of sheer fuzziness, where my foggy mind was a bit of a nuisance at times. Aside from not being able to work for longer periods of time to which I’m normally accustomed, my mind played tricks on me that even caused me to panic.

The other night, my husband and I were working. My youngest daughter was out, and it was past her curfew. My husband, who was the first to notice, asked me: “Honey, do you know where Paige is?” If there was such a thing as a panic button, it was certainly being pressed at that moment. My heart was pounding. My pulse was racing. My head was aching. We were scrambling to find out where she was.

But just when we were about to either jump into the car looking for my baby all over town, or call the police to report a missing person, in walks my daughter, all smiles and chuckles, which seemed even more distressing when she knew she just broke an immutable household rule.

“Paige!” I yelled. “Where the heck were you? We were worried sick!!! We were going to go out and look for you! It’s past your curfew! Why didn’t you call? You’re grounded, little lady! You’re in DEEP trouble!”

And in a look of complete dismay and utter confusion, Paige replied: “But mom, I went to see the late movie tonight. I asked you yesterday, and you even gave me money for it!”

(D’oh!)

That’s what I mean. Thank goodness those days are over. (And I’m sure my wonderful family is just as happy as I am.)

Speaking of chemo being over, on the last day of chemo, the staff in the chemo ward got a little surprise — including any patients that were still in the room after such a long day.

In the chemo ward at the Ottawa General Hospital Cancer Centre, there are over 40 beds, each flanked by an intravenous machine. (Every time we’re there, all the beds are busy throughout the day. It’s amazing to me to see how many people suffer from this dreadful disease. Amazing and disheartening.)

At the end of the hall near the exit, there’s an old bell hanging on the wall, with a dangling cord. When patients leave after their last chemo treatment, tradition says that they must ring the bell on their way out.

During each session, my husband (who has been with me by my side each time) and I hear the bell ring at least 2–3 times. It’s a momentous occasion to say the least. The entire ward — nurses, doctors, patients and all — break into applause and cheer. It’s a wonderful feeling. And it’s also a great motivator.

I can’t begin to tell you how many times I told my husband how eager I was for when it would be my turn. I gave him, and the rest of the staff, a fair warning: when my time comes, you better block your ears, ’cause I’m surely ringin’ that bell! (Michel believed me, but I’m so sure about the staff.)

Some people ring it only slightly. Others ring it with one big clang. But that’s about it. To me, that bell meant more than you can possibly imagine. And people who know me know that I am definitely not the timid type. (In fact, the doctors and nurses at the chemo ward call me the “firebug.” Can you imagine why? Hmm?)

A few weeks ago, the moment we’ve all been waiting for had finally arrived. And I didn’t hold back. I jumped up and grabbed the cord (if you’ve ever seen me in person, you’d know I’m not a tall person), and like Tarzan swinging from a vine, I rang the bell so loud it could have woken up the entire hospital!

(My husband later told me that all the nurses turned to him, whispering, “Is she always like this?”)

Chemo or no chemo, however, one side-effect I wasn’t expecting, which threw me off somewhat, was lymphedema.

Lymphnodes are glands near your armpit that act like “traffic cops,” directing fluid to and from the breasts — from water to milk during pregnancy. When you have a mastectomy, where lymphnodes are removed (as it was in my case), breast fluid has nowhere to go. So it tends to build up in other parts of your body — mostly, your arm — causing it to swell like a balloon.

Sometimes, lymphedema can be very little and even unnoticeable. Other times, it can appear quite dramatically. I wasn’t aware of this. And I certainly wasn’t aware that some environments can contribute to lymphedema — such as while traveling by air in a pressurized airplane cabin.

Last month, I spoke at an event in Atlanta, Georgia. I flew in a day earlier, which gave me some time to prepare for my presentation. And moments before I walked on stage, I was focusing on the crowd, reciting my presentation in my head, and making sure the AV equipment was working and ready to go.

I speak on stage regularly, so I’m used to it. There are many things that go into making a successful presentation, and all of these took my mind away from a little surprise that “quietly” happened while I was on stage.

Right in the middle of my presentation, I felt a certain pain in my ring finger. I was only a half-hour into my presentation when I took a moment to look down at my hand to see where the pain was coming from. And to my complete shock, I noticed my bulging hand and fingers, which have swollen to twice their size causing my wedding ring to dig itself deep into my skin!

Sausage hand. Ugh.

(Thankfully, it stopped swelling after that point and the ring remained intact. I would have dreaded the mere thought of being forced to cut my wedding ring off my finger! The good part? My hand was still swollen enough to cover my entire face trying to hide the embarrassment from the whole situation.)

My doctor, Dr. Young, who is my hero and for whom I’m so thankful (by the way, look for a blog post soon about him, because he was such an amazing person!), prescribed a compression sleeve for the next time I travel. So hopefully, my hand won’t blow up like the Good Year blimp, especially while in the middle of an important presentation!

Lymphedema is permanent, but at least it’s controllable. However, another side-effect of chemo that’s much less controllable is menopause, and its trusty sidekick, “Captain Hotflash.”

Since breast cancer in women is often caused by estrogen levels, chemo forces you into menopause as part of the process. But now that chemo is over, and since estrogen cannot make a comeback or else it will put me at risk for a re-occurrence, I will be placed on hormone therapy to keep me in a menopausal state.

And that, unfortunately, will last forever.

My poor husband has to put up with our arctic-like bedroom nicely chilled from its wide-open windows in the middle of winter, or else he will wake up swimming in a pool of my sweat from having several of these hotflashes overnight. Yuck. Not a pretty sight. When my husband tells me I’m hot, this gives it a whole new meaning.

But one thing that happened throughout this entire process is pretty fascinating. In fact, it’s almost eerie.

As a child in grade school, I had a dear friend who I used to hang around with all the time. She and I were best buddies. We were inseparable, it seemed. But, as you know, life happens. And as my mother moved us away from Ottawa, I lost touch with her and haven’t seen my best friend ever since. We’re talking close to 23 years, now. From time to time, I still stop and wonder how she is, where she is, if she has any kids, where is she working, and so on.

When I got married last summer to my Soul Mate, I was preparing to file the necessary paperwork to change my maiden name to my newly married name. But since I was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer just a few days before my wedding, I was literally whisked into the operating room upon my return from our honeymoon.

These events have forcibly sidetracked any attempt to legally change my name. So when I registered at the hospital, I had to use my maiden name.

Then one day, out of the blue, I got a phone call.

Apparently, my best friend who I haven’t seen in over two decades worked in the administrative offices of the cancer center! Luckily, while she was working in the backroom (which is why I never saw her), she came across my name. And being a Halloween baby, there aren’t too many people out there with my name let alone my birthday of October 31st.

So she knew it was me. And that’s when she recognized me right away. So she decided to give me a ring, and we finally got back in touch after such a long time. We couldn’t chat too much because she was working. But when I visited the hospital for one of my many tests, we finally met face to face.

We didn’t have much time to catch up — only to know that her life was frighteningly similar to mine. She has kids about the same age as I do, and lived practically in my own backyard, just a few streets away from my home!

Strange coincidence? Maybe. But in the end, this goes to show that, whatever the Universe does to you, you’re sometimes reminded that everything happens for a reason. And aside from being thankful for ending chemotherapy, I’m thankful to be alive, to know that I’m not alone on this journey, and to be so loved. Until next time, as the song goes:

“You can ring beeeellll-ellll-elll.”

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Well, it’s hard to imagine, but I’m already halfway done with my chemotherapy treatments (yippee!). And there’s something I’ve learned along the way…

It gets tougher as the treatments progress.

I don’t know if it is like this for other chemo patients, but I have found that with each treatment, I get more and more tired and feel more dragged out. Napping is becoming less of a luxury and more of a necessity each time I have a treatment.

And this last round of chemotherapy knocked me off my feet for far longer than I expected. Well, to be fair, this is partially my own fault. See, I haven’t really let myself relax the way I should have, and my body paid for it dearly.

After my last chemo treatment, Michel and I travelled to Atlanta to speak at another event. It was a flurry of activity around here for the weeks preceding the event, and although I did take naps every once in a while, I didn’t really get as much rest as I should have.

I was pushing myself a little too much, trying to do too much, keeping myself too busy, and generally not letting myself take the time I needed to heal.

And I’m afraid it caught up to me.

There’s been a flu bug going around, and nearly everyone in my house caught it. I thought I’d gotten off pretty lucky, since it seemed it was going to pass me by. But I’m afraid I spoke too soon when I bragged that “everyone’s worried about me getting sick, but everyone else got it but me”.

Last week, it hit me like a 5 ton freight train.

The day before my scheduled chemo treatment, I went in for the obligatory pre-chemo blood tests. I was feeling a little under the weather, but didn’t realize what was happening until I got the call from the doctor’s office.

“Sylvie, you can’t have your chemo treatment this week because your white blood cell counts are really low. We need to reschedule you to next week.”

This did not bode well at all. First of all, pushing my chemo to the following week meant that I would be having a chemo session right before Christmas. This meant that instead of feeling merry and bright, I am going to be feeling a little more Bah Humbug. Secondly, with my white blood cell count being dangerously low, I am susceptible to every stray germ floating around, and no amount of positive thinking was going to help that.

The nurse explained that my cell count was low because I was likely fighting off a cold or flu germ. Well she wasn’t kidding!

The next day, the tickle at the back of my throat became more of a scratch, and the overall “rundown” feeling I’d been experiencing started to feel a little more like “did anyone catch the license plate of that steamroller that hit me?”.

I’ve had the flu before, and it never felt like this. Trust me, when all this is over and I’m back to my old self again, I will never again complain about having a common cold!

Having a cold or flu when you’re in the middle of chemo treatments is really tough to deal with. Everything is magnified and it feels worse, mainly because my body is just not equipped to fight anything off the way it normally is.

I know it will pass, and it gives me a great deal of hope to know that I am halfway there. I only have 4 more treatments to contend with before I can start feeling like my normal self again.

And in the meantime, I have re-learned a very valuable lesson…

My body needs to rest if I am to get through this. There is nothing more important than giving myself the gift of my own health. So, I am taking extra time each day to remind myself to “do nothing” and relax my mind as well as my body. Just sitting still doesn’t count as rest.

I need to also spend time relaxing my mind and not put so much pressure on myself to accomplish everything I normally can in a day. I am making an investment in me right now, and although it does not come naturally to me, it is important for the sake of my family and my business, that I take some much needed time out to let my body heal.

Christmas is just around the corner, and this year, I am reminded of just how grateful I am for all the people in my life who are there to love and support me.

I may not feel physically wonderful this time of year, but with my family and friends by my side, it will be a wonderful Christmas!

My best wishes to you and your family during this holiday season. May you be as blessed as I am.

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Since this drama began for us, I have been utterly amazed at the outpouring of support, gifts, cards, letters, and love that has come our way.

It is honestly overwhelming, at times. See, in our lives and in our business, we’re used to being the “givers”. We have a family that we are used to giving our time, money and support to. In our business, we are “teachers”, and we’re quite accustomed to giving a great deal of our knowledge, time, resources and energy to help others.

So when this happened, we honestly did not expect so many people, many whom we have never met, to reach out this way and provide us with much needed support and caring, just when we need it the most.

Michel and I will be eternally grateful for it. You were there for us when we needed the most to know that we were loved. And I believe it has gone a long way to helping me get through the healing much faster.

My incision has been healing very quickly, for example, and the side effects from the chemo treatments has been more manageable than I expected. I do believe this is largely because of the flow of incredibly positive energy and love that has been sent my way on a daily basis, and I wanted to express how much I appreciate all my heroes. Thank you!

And it has inspired me in many ways. You inspired me to do the Shave-A-Thon, which in turn, has inspired others. People have told me that they too have been inspired to do something special, to reach out, to give of themselves, to bring joy to another, to raise money…quite simply…to connect with other people in a way they hadn’t considered before.

It has been the ultimate Pay It Forward experience for me.

I want to share that if I could turn back time and be faced with this situation again, I would gladly experience it ten times over, just to see what a wonderful effect it has had on people around me.

Challenges like this define a person, not by what we experience, but by how we respond to that experience.

When faced with insurmountable odds, what we DO with the experience is what helps us understand who we really are on the inside.

I am so thankful for this opportunity! I never thought I would say “Thank God I got breast cancer!”, and yet, I find myself saying that these days.

A few months B.C. (Before the Cancer), I was blissfully anaware of what was about to happen. I was riding on a wave of happiness about my upcoming wedding. My business was doing better than ever. And I was also unaware of some of the difficulties going on around me. Now, I am acutely aware that I have a job to do. My life has changed, and it is up to me to make sure that change is for the better.

Part of that job is to spread awareness about breast cancer itself. B.C. I had no idea that I was at risk. I had no idea that young women who get breast cancer have a lower survival rate and that it is much more aggressive for us. I had no clue that it could spread so fast and be so difficult to spot.

And now that I know, it is my job to make sure everyone else knows it too. If I can be an example to others to check themselves more often, to go ahead and demand that annual mammogram, no matter what age group you happen to fall into, then it will be worth going through. As they say “If I can save just one life…”

Another mission I am on is to prove that none of life’s challenges can possibly get me down, and staying positive at all times is what makes this life worth living. I have a job to spread awareness about love and its amazing effect on all of us.

Along with my message about awareness, I am compelled to spread a message about turning lemons into lemon meringue pie. I truly believe that there is nothing that can happen to a person that can overwhelm or devestate them, unless they allow it. Divorce, loss of job, terminal illness, death of a loved one, nothing, nothing, nothing can possibly destroy anyone unless they allow it to.

The secret to conquering any darkness is to always stay completely focused on the light.

Bear with me here, because this may be a radically new concept.

It’s about a shift in perception, a slight difference in the way every obstacle is viewed, and I truly believe it can save my life, and the lives of those who understand and grasp the concept.

We’ve all heard about the “War on Terrorism” or the “War on Drugs”. These words are often used to describe how people are fighting something that is negative. But have you noticed anyone actually “winning the war” yet? I propose that as long as the focus is on the negative, the war will be endless, because we will be always focused on the one thing we don’t want.

As one of the commenters on this blog said so profoundly, “it’s very difficult to fight or conquer darkness. Really, the only way we *can* dispel it, is to turn on the light.”

And that makes such beautiful sense.

If you are in a dark room, it does you no good to grab a sharp knife and flail away at the darkness in a feeble attempt to “fight the dark”. The only way to make the darkness go away is to, quite simply, calmly locate the light switch and flip it to the on position. If your only method of dispelling darkess is to “fight it”, then your attempts will be useless, and you will be endlessly flailing away impotently.

Darkness can only be replaced, it cannot be fought.

And it applies to how I am dealing with my own war…my war on breast cancer.

I am not fighting breast cancer. I am replacing it with a healthy set of cells.

My daily thoughts are filled with dreams of a healthy, cancer-free body. I spend all my waking moments imagining that ALL my cells are healthy, vibrant, alive, active, and doing the job they are supposed to do…what they were intended to do.

Right now, we are actively working at removing the cells that went awry, through chemotherapy and radiation treatments. See, my cells forgot their job for a while, and to save the rest of my cells from being coerced into going awry as well, the errant ones must be removed from the whole.

And once they are removed, my job is to make sure all my remaining cells will always remember their own mission, and never have room for doubt about their purpose. In order to make sure the cancer never returns, I must stay focused on filling my cells with love and forgiveness, and reminding them that they have a better purpose.

And this “replacing the negative with a positive” thought process is what helps me heal every day and deal with the healing process.

It is a dramatic shift in perception.

For example:

I have not lost my hair. I have chosen to give it away to someone who needs it more than me.

I have not lost my breast. I have chosen to make room for a perkier one to be installed later.

I am not experiencing “extreme fatigue”. I am taking much needed naps and spoiling myself with more rest than I thought I deserved.

I am not surviving breast cancer. I am a woman who is living each day the way it was supposed to be lived…full of life, love, joy, special moments, and laughter.

This is not the “year I battle cancer”. This is the year I welcome a fresh new healthy body.

I do not have a terminal illness. I have been blessed with a reminder that it is important to live each day to its fullest and do what Queen Latifah did in Last Holiday when she thought she had just a few weeks to live…she did everything she’d always wanted to do, and her life became much more meaningful as a result. Before she thought she was dying, all she did was “exist”, dreaming of a time when she could finally do the things she had always dreamed of doing “one of these days”. When she thought she was dying, she finally lived.

If we could all live each day as if it could be our last, imagine what we would do with our day?

Who would we reach out to? Who would we comfort? Who would we help?

If you thought today was your last day on earth, what would you choose to do with your day?

Recently, a dear friend of mine was killed in an accident. Phil Huff was a wonderful man who, just a few days before his death, didn’t hesitate to help me spread the word about my shaveathon. When I emailed him asking him to tell his friends about the upcoming event, he didn’t stop to question whether or not he had the time to help. He immediately penned a beautiful email to send his list and he shared his thoughts about what I was going through.

He didn’t know that his death was right around the corner. How could he, or anyone else, know? And yet it was. He was tragically killed, along with his father in law, less than 4 months after his wedding. My heart goes out to his family.

Would he have done anything differently if he had known that he was about to die? Probably not. Because he lived his life to its fullest, had a wonderful new bride he was deeply in love with, was involved with helping others, and was there when people needed him the most.

He wasn’t living his life in anticipation of his death. he was living his life the way it was meant to be lived.

The fact is, we are all suffering from a terminal illness. We are all dying…eventually.

And just because I have breast cancer doesn’t mean I know how I’m going to die. A random speeding bus could hit me tomorrow. So does it make sense to live my life worrying about random buses? Absolutely not!

Nor will I live out the rest of my life worrying about my breast cancer.

I am living my life as if it could be my last day on earth, doing everything my little heart desires, loving my family and others, laughing as often as possible, and doing whatever I can to make life easier for those around me.

And although I cannot control how I am going to die, I’ll be damned if I am going to let a little thing like breast cancer ruin my day!

My day is too full of fun and laughter, thank you very much. And I have got a lot of living to do!

p.s. In an effort to spread breast cancer awareness, I have designed a variety of pink ribbon merchandise. I realize it isn’t October anymore, but would you please do your part to help spread awareness year round? Breast cancer doesn’t just happen in October, and I would be very grateful if you could help my mission by picking up a tshirt or button and wearing it whenever possible. And when someone asks you what it’s all about, and you think my story will help serve the greater good, please let them know that there is hope. If my story can help save one life…

Click here to check out the breast cancer support gear…

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We are on our way home tomorrow after travelling to Atlanta to speak at the Big Seminar. I think I’m still reeling from all the hugs, smiles, and well wishes I received this past weekend. It was such a wonderful experience, and I couldn’t be happier that we decided to go, in spite of all the dire warnings about how difficult it would be for me, physically, to travel away from home right now.

See, my first chemotherapy treatment occured last week, on October 17th. From what I understand, my immune system hits its lowest point in the 5–7 days that follow each treatment. That’s when my white blood cell population is at its lowest, right before they start to rebuild themselves again.

So this is the time when I am most susceptible to colds, flu, and other illnesses that I would be completely unable to fight in my weakened state. This can be extremely dangerous to people going through chemo, and if I catch a common cold, it can lead to my early demise.

And it also happened to fall right at the time we would be on an airplane, flying to Atlanta. We all know how fast diseases spread through an airplane (SARS comes to mind), so we were taking a risk to make this trip.

However, once again, the power of a positive mindset proved itself to be the biggest asset I have in my arsenal of “cancer fighting” weapons.

I am a firm believer in the Law of Attraction, that what you think about the most is what you will always attract to your life. I am well aware that my body would be at its most vulnerable during the days that follow treatment, so I set my mind to refuse to acknowledge the presence of any roaming viruses or bacterium. To put it simply, I created an image in my mind of an invisible wall around me, a wall made of the strongest material known to mankind. This wall is made of the love and positive energy sent to me by hundreds of friends and family, and it never came down, not even for a second.

The roaming buglets didn’t stand a chance. They simply were not able to get through my formidable defenses. And therefore, they didn’t exist in my world. They weren’t on my radar. They couldn’t get through. And I remained primarily healthy throughout our trip.

I did feel ill periodically. I did experience some of the side effects of chemotherapy. But never for long, and never very harsh. All because of the power of my mind to control the symptoms, and the medications I’ve been given to help me deal with this.

Some of the common side effects of going through chemotherapy include: Extreme fatigue, depressed immune system, loss of appetite, nausea and vomiting, diarrhoea or constipation, acid reflux, hair loss, uncontrollable bleeding or bruising, mouth ulcers, among many others.

Although the actual severity of the side effects vary according to each individual, and some are downright unavoidable (like hair loss), I was well aware of the possibility of most of these side effects, and was prepared for them to occur.

I knew exactly how I would handle them, and how I would use my mental imaging to stay in control of each.

Extreme fatigue?

Oh, I definitely felt that, and had no problem with letting people know when I needed to extract myself from a social situation to go take a nap. Heck, when else can I get away with napping in the middle of the day without people thinking “oh, how nice for her to be so lazy”. This is my one chance in life to actually get away from it all, practice the art of relaxation, and just sleep if I feel like it. But I also refused to let napping become my one and only hobby. I have a lot to get done in a day, and I allow myself to nap for a couple of hours, then enough is enough. Back to being a productive citizen and moving on with my day.

Depressed Immune System?

Yep, felt that too. But as I described earlier, the buglets just couldn’t get through my defenses. Although I did wake up one morning during the trip and felt the far too familiar itchy, watery eyes, scratchy throat and runny nose I’ve normally associated with “catching a cold”. My immediate thought was “Uh oh, I have a cold! This is really serious!”. And I hurriedly slammed the door shut on that thought.

Instead, I took a few moments to form a new picture in my mind. I imagined cool water soothing my throat, and my eyes instantly clearing up. I imagined my healthy sinuses and clear nasal passages. Essentially, I imagined I was the healthiest person on the planet, and I kept that image firmly planted in my mind for the rest of the day.

Guess what? By evening, I WAS the healthiest person on the planet, and all the dangerous symptoms of my cold had completely disappeared. I say dangerous because my doctor was full of warnings about how a common cold could easily lead to pneumonia in my case, and that if I experienced even the slightest fever, I was to march myself into the nearest hospital and get treated immediately.

Obviously, catching a cold while in a different country isn’t something I was willing to accept. So, I dismissed it as an option this weekend.

Loss of Appetite?

Sure, in the days that immediately followed my chemo treatment, it was like pulling teeth to get me to decide what I wanted for dinner. My poor brother, who has been an incredible help in meal preparations, desperately tried to think of unique and special concoctions that I would perhaps be able to stomach. He was usually met with an apologetic “That looks so good, but honestly, I don’t think I can eat much”.

But after a few days, this too passed, and this weekend, the room service waiters got a workout, bringing me whatever my little heart desired. My appetite may wane again (and I’m sure my thighs will be grateful for that), but in the meantime, I’m living it up in the lap of luxury, eating all the cookies I feel like and enjoying the fact that weight loss is inevitable for people going through chemo. Heck, there better be some serious perks, and weight loss seems like a great idea to me!

Nausea?

Now there’s a fun side effect. Yes, it too is unavoidable, but it IS controllable. First, there are some very helpful medications that have been prescribed for me that help enormously in reducing the nausea. I take them religiously, to avoid the possibility of throwing up. But, when all is said and done, chemotherapy is very strong toxin, and the body always tries to protect itself by, well, err, “getting rid of them” as fast as possible.

So, in spite of the anti-nauseants, I have occasionally felt the effects. Whenever I do get a “wave” of nausea, I use a very specific imaging technique to trick my body into behaving better.

First, I convince myself that what I’m feeling isn’t nausea, but rather…I am simply feeling hungry, and all I need do is have a cracker or two and it will pass. This usually gets rid of the sensation, or rather, it transforms it into something quite manageable. If this doesn’t work, and my body tries to persistantly convince me that “sorry, but this is the real deal, chickie”, I imagine that I am simply experiencing the sensation of being on a cruise ship, which immediately causes a flood of wonderful memories associated with our recent honeymoon. My brain busies itself with remembering all the fun things we did on our honeymoon that it “forgets” to feel badly, and the nausea passes as quickly as it arrived.

Diarrhea or Constipation?

Thankfully, there are wonderful medications that have been prescribed that manage these side effects. I don’t think you need any details on this, so… Nuff Said!

Acid Reflux?

Also one of the unavoidable ones, but is being managed by medication as well as ginger ale whenever it happens. Easily overcome. Easily managed.

Hair Loss?

Unavoidable, so I found a way to make this a fun side effect. First, I took control of it (instead of letting it control me) by hosting the shaveathon to celebrate my impending hair loss. That was step one.

Step two was to purchase a wide and colorful variety of hats, wigs, and turbans, so I could get back to my childhood memories of playing dress up for a while. In the next few months, I plan to be a blond, brunette, and redhead, all without needing to color my hair. I also intend to wear many different hats, and let my imagination run wild, sporting as many different “looks” as I like.

I even (after much persuasion by my wonderfully supportive husband) was brave enough over the past weekend to waltz around, shamelessly sporting my buzz-shaved hairdo for all the world to gawk at.

You know what? I was flooded with compliments about how people thought how much better I looked with such short hair! Now THAT I wasn’t expecting! They said they could finally see my sparkly eyes and most strongly suggested I keep my hair short when it does finally grow back in a few months. Well don’t that beat all? I’ve had my long curly locks ever since I remember, and all at once, I’m actually considering the benefits of keeping my hair pixie-elf short. Who knew?

Uncontrollable bleeding?

Well, I haven’t experienced that yet, but I don’t think I should take chances. I think I’ll leave the knife tossing for another time, and just to be safe, I’ll let other people do the food chopping for a while. Bruises do seem to last much longer than usual, but hey, I’m not trying to win any beauty contests, so I don’t really care about that.

Mouth Ulcers?

You know, I have a funny story about this particular side effect. You see, no one really told me about it ahead of time, so it wasn’t something I was prepared for. I was scheduled to speak on stage, in front of 500 people, on Saturday morning. Can you imagine my consternation when on Friday evening, I developed a weird side effect involving the mouth I would need to speak with the next day?

I felt my tongue “thicken” throughout the day, and it felt as if I had burned my tongue on a hot cup of coffee. Later that night, I chanced to look at my tongue in the mirror, and was horrified to discover that apparently, Edward Scissorhands had taken a fancy to re-styling the top of my tongue! No wonder I was starting to slur my words! And then it dawned on me that I desperately needed my tongue on stage the next day and that if this got any worse, I would be delivering a particularly comical and pathetic sounding presentation.

I quickly began an all-out assault on whatever was causing this particular problem, and spent the next few hours sucking on ice cubes, drinking water like a camel stocking up for an extended hike through the desert, and sipping milk to soothe the pain. The next morning, I woke up and ran to the mirror to check on the progress. I was very grateful to see that although the razor blade cuts were still there, the redness and swelling had decreased enough so that I no longer sounded like a lisping frog when I spoke. I got through my presentation with no one being the wiser, and was grateful to the universe for letting me off the hook without sounding drunk on stage!

The next day, I had to give another presentation, and although I heard myself lisp a few times, the crowd didn’t seem to notice, or they were too polite to mention it. Next time I go through chemo, I know that I am supposed to keep ice chips in my mouth to reduce the blood flow to my tongue. Apparently, this helps when the toxins are flowing strongest through my bloodstream, and it is supposed to help make the mouth sores a thing of the past. I hope the website I got that little tidbit from wasn’t pulling my leg, because I’m not interested in going through this again!

All in all, these side effects are not even a blip on my personal radar. I CAN get through this and still keep my sense of humour intact. None of these side effects are worth fretting over, and as long as they aren’t getting any of my attention, they seem to be getting bored with me. If they get bored with my lack of attention, maybe they’ll pick up their toys and go home! I don’t have time to play with them today, so they can just move along, thank you very much.

I am scheduled for another round of “get thee behind me, cancer” chemotherapy treatments on Thursday. I don’t expect there will be any additional news on that front for a while, as I certainly don’t expect that the ill effects are going to get any worse. I got through the first round with flying colors, as I fully intend to continue doing for the remaining months of chemo.

So, for those who have wondered “How’s Sylvie feeling?”…the answer is a resounding “Excellent! Thank you for asking.”

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Yes, we actually did it! We shaved my head, and I’ve never felt more alive as I do at this moment!

This was truly an incredible moment in my life, and I am so grateful to all of you who helped me turn this difficult moment into something I actually enjoyed doing. It has taught me some very important lessons about turning lemons into lemonade, and how the most challenging moments in this journey are the moments I need to pay special attention to. Each time something arises that seems unconquerable, I will find something I can do, a twist I can use, that makes it a moment to look forward to.

The entire shaving experience took over an hour (although we edited it down to just the highlights for the video), and in that hour, a new person was born. This new character represents the best part of all of us when the chips are down.

She was born when she faced her deepest fears. She was born only when life’s events became more than she thought she could handle. She was born when I couldn’t think of a good reason for this to have happened to me, and I scrambled to find meaning in it all.

I had to face the fact that sometimes bad things happen to good people, and sometimes there isn’t a good reason for it. But since I am a firm believer that EVERYTHING happens for a wise purpose, I needed to find a way for THIS to make sense. I needed to scramble to find a way to “polish that cloud until I create the silver lining”.

It wasn’t easy to find a way to create good from all this. But as I struggled to do exactly that, “She” was born. Her name is Surviva.

Her job is to be the face of breast cancer awareness. It is her mission to spread the word and teach people that all pain can be conquered. All challenges can be met with fierce determination. And above all…ALL things can be viewed from a new perspective, and become a positive experience for each of us.

She is me. She is you. She is all of us. Surviva Lives!

And she was born when all of you joined forces to show breast cancer that it doesn’t stand a chance. She was born from the unity and support you all gave me when I needed it the most.

It is truly amazing what can happen when good people decide to do something special for others, isn’t it? No, I’m not talking about what I did by shaving my head for charity.

I’m talking about a group of amazing people who, when asked to help, dove right in without a moment’s hesitation, and opened their hearts and their wallets to help someone else.

I am absolutely floored by the incredible response we received!

Most of the individuals who were contacted were from the internet business community, and I think this speaks volumes about how unexpected heroes come out of the woodwork when it comes time to truly make a difference.

The Shave-A-Thon went so well, and so many people immediately pitched in, that I needed to figure out how to solve a problem I hadn’t anticipated!

I didn’t plan for what would happen if more than 96 square inches of my scalp was “sold”! Originally, when I decided I was going to go “all out” and use my head shaving experience for the greater good, it didn’t dawn on me that it was possible to raise more than the original $4,800 goal.

But we sold 263 clickable square inches of my head and raised a total of $13,215 for the Avon Breast Cancer Crusade!

We far exceeded our original expectation, and needed to scramble to come up with a way to deal with the “oversale” problem. After all, we promised donors 1 inch of clickable space per $50 donation, and to keep our promise, we needed to find a way to clone my head!

What a wonderful problem to have, and I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. Err, or is that from the top of my shiny scalp?

So, we figured out how to keep our original promise to our generous sponsors…

Instead of just having one clickable head shot, we’ve decided to clone my head for charity. All our generous sponsors will be featured on this page, and showcased as my heroes for breast cancer awareness.

Here’s the video of the shave-a-thon event…

This video is about 12 minutes long and requires Adobe Flash to view (you should have it already). Click to view the shave-a-thon video…

All Our Generous Heroes

Here’s the list of my heroes in order of donation size, from the topmost first. (Again, thank you so much for your help, even if you simply promoted my event! It means the world to me.)

1. Jeff Dedrick
   Internet Marketing Product Launch Secrets
2. Stephen & Alicia Pierce
   Optimize Your Mind for Accelerated Mental Performance
3. Shawn M. Casey
   Internet Marketing
4. Anonymous Donor ($1,000)
5. Anthony Coyne
   Copywriter
6. Yanik and Melissa Silver
   Thank You Letter
7. Wendy Makepeace
   Clayton Makepeace, The Total Package
8. Matt
   Marketing Tips
9. Dr. Kenny Handelman
   Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
10. Paul Tilson Weinberg
    Cape Breton Island’s Adventure & Retreat Center
11. Joel and Mary Comm
    Coupon Codes
12. Lisa R. Preston
    Newsletter
13. Jeff Johnson
    Childrens Leukemia
14. Alice Seba
    Moms Talk Network
15. Matt Bowen
    Elliott Wave, Elliott Wave software, Fibonacci, Forex
16. Peter Stone
    You’re Just One Salesletter Away From Wealth
17. Lorrie Morgan-Ferrero
    Conscious Copywriting For A New Era
18. James E. Haas III
    Prophet, Mystic
19. Dr. Mani
    Help Save a Child’s Heart
20. Wayne Van Dyck
    Making Money
21. Gary Raimo
    Ecommerce
22. Robert Barco
    Bean Bag Chairs
23. Dr. Cindy Brown
    Relationships
24. J.J. Childers
    J.J. Childers
25. Doug Stewart
    Naming Your Company
26. Neil A Shearing
    Neil Shearing
27. Heidi Walter
    Nanotechnology Health & Wellness
28. Raymond Paquette
    Bridesmaid Gifts, Pearl Bridal Jewelry, Bridesmaid Jewelry
29. Lisa Manyon
    Lisa Manyon
30. Kevin Kavanagh
31. Norman Sefton
32. Mary K Weinhagen
    Greeting Cards
33. Tatiana Velitchkov
    All Needs & Wants on Closeout
34. Andre Chaperon
    Andre Chaperon
35. Shiela Eaton
    Breast Cancer Victory Blog
36. Nina Bryant
    Marketing Systems
37. Carolyn Ash
    Integrative Skincare That Works
38. Joanne Hall
    Find Women’s Clothing That Fits
39. V. Witt
    Dog Care
40. Joseph Ratliff
    Copywriter
41. Janice Campbell
    Making Time For Things That Matter
42. Lisa Uman Crisalle
    Nutrition
43. Kevin Brent Cook
    Mental Fitness and Training for Traders
44. Teri & Bill McCready
    Futures Trading
45. Paul Woodall
    All the tools needed to GoGetUm on the web.
46. Kathleen Gage
    Marketing
47. Tom Heatherington
    Log Homes Directory and Information Portal
48. Lou Schuyler
    Copywriter
49. Michele Pariza Wacek
    copywriting, marketing
50. Richard F. Hill
    Disaster Preparedness
51. Pam McKinnis
    Childrens Boutique Clothes
52. Vera Randall
    Website Design
53. Mark Semple
    Be Successful Together
54. Jeanette Cates
    Teleseminars
55. Ellen Violette
    ebook writing
56. Mila Sidman
    Work At Home Mom
57. Ann White
    Rare Book Store And Writer’s Resource For New Authors
58. Sid Smith
    Self-Publish
59. Monica Villarreal
    natural health remedies
60. Janiss Garza
    Exercise and Yoga DVD Reviews
61. Norman Kraft
    Zen Writes, Inc.
62. Anonymous Donor ($50)
63. Anonymous Donor ($50)
64. Anonymous Donor ($50)
65. Anonymous Donor ($50)
66. Charles Switzer
67. David Deutsch
68. Glen R. Kohlenberg
69. Sieglinde Wallis
70. Te Hope Hakaraia
71. Gill Fernley
72. Kerry Goodbrand

The Organizers Of This Event

• Sylvie Fortin
  Project Management and Outsourcing Solutions
• Michel Fortin
  How To Turn More Prospects Into Profits
• “DJ” Dave Bernstein
  Sound Ideas For Marketing Mastery

And a very special thank you is for a few people who have made this entire experience memorable…

Megan Malette, who was brave enough to shear my hair for me.

George, from Blackburn Barber Shop, who generously donated the equipment, his time, and his expertise.

And there aren’t sufficient words to thank one person who has been there for me, supported me, and made my healing possible…my dear brother, Lou Charrier. Thank you bro! You mean the world to me!

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Well folks, since my last post, life has been a flurry of doctor’s appointments, tests, consultations, and getting informed and ready for the various treatments I will be going through in the coming months.

We knew I would need radiation, chemotherapy, and hormone treatments, but we needed all the myriad of tests to be completed to determine exactly what type of drugs they would be using in my specific case. And those test results are starting to trickle in, giving us more information about what to expect.

With bated breath, I’ve been waiting to find out whether the type of chemo drugs I will be receiving will result in early menopause, as well as losing all my hair. I fully expected this would be the case, but I didn’t want to go out and get my head shaved, only to find out that hair loss would not be an issue in my case. Wouldn’t that have been a cute joke for the universe to pull on me?

So, now we know. I will be losing all my hair, and very shortly too. In fact, I can expect my hair to start falling out within a week or two after my first chemotherapy treatment.

Thank God for that!

“OK, who is this crazy woman and why is she thanking God for hair loss?”

The fact is, I was kind of hoping this would happen, and I’ll explain why so you all don’t think I’m certifiably nuts.

See, in my research for cancer, and specifically, chemotherapy’s side effects, I came across a website that brought tears to my eyes, and sparked an idea in my own head a little over a month ago. For a month, I’ve been planning to do something special, as soon as I found out whether or not I would go through hair loss, and because it occupied so much of my thoughts in the past few weeks, I think I would have been disappointed to find out that I wouldn’t be able to do what I had planned to do.

“Enough with the cliffhangers, Sylvie…dish already!”

Well, here’s what I have in mind, but I need your help if this is going to work…

I am going to shave my hair off before it starts falling out on its own because of chemo. My hair will be donated to a charity called Locks of Love, and my hair will then be fashioned into a custom made human hair wig for a child who can’t afford such an expensive accessory. The children that get these wigs made for them are kids who have suffered more than I ever will, and at such a young age. These kids are going through terminal illnesses while still too young to have really experienced life yet, and they deserve to have something special done for them.

It is the least I can do.

I have had my “big hair” ever since I remember. In fact, the last time my hair was cut short, I was five years old! I’ve often complained that I have “too much hair”, bemoaning the frizzies on damp days, complaining that it gets in my way all the time.

And as it turns out, all these years of carefully caring for my long hair will finally be worth something. My hair will actually be useful for something far more important than mere vanity, and will go to someone who needs it far more than I do. I am honored to be able to turn my own hair loss into something positive for a child who needs it.

Some little girl, somewhere in the world, will be proudly sporting her new mane of curly hair, and I hope she doesn’t have the same frizzies I always dealt with. It’s a shame I’ll never know who she is, because I would have been able to give her some handy hair care tips I’ve learned over the years.

These wigs would cost anyone else at least $3000 to have created for them (don’t forget, this is a custom designed human hair wig, developed especially for a child’s growing head), but because of Locks of Love (and my donation of my entire head of hair), a little girl won’t have to pay a dime for her custom designed wig.

And I couldn’t be happier about it!

But, this wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to do even more to help. After all, my life is all about turning lemons into lemon meringue pie, so I want to make sure this event does even more good for someone who needs it.

I am also going to be donating my scalp to charity.

See, I got to thinking about all those “pixel ads” webpages (like MillionDollarHomepage.com), and I decided I had some “pixel real estate” of my own that I could donate in addition to my hair.

Here’s what I have in mind, and where I need your help…

We are holding a public Shave-A-Thon in support of both Locks of Love and the Avon Foundation’s Breast Cancer Crusade.

We are going to be shaving my head bald on October 16th. I have done some math to calculate exactly how many square inches of scalp I have, so that I can offer you virtual real estate on my head.

I am offering up to 96 square inches of my scalp to those who are willing to pledge a donation to the Avon Foundation. In exchange for every $50 donation to the Avon Foundation, one square inch of my scalp will be available to be clicked on.

Let me explain…

We will be videotaping the process of cutting my hair and shaving me bald, and after I am completely hairless, we will be taking photos of my head from both sides, and creating a very special page on this site, a page that has never been created before, as far as I know.

This page will feature the video of the shave in progress, where our good friend, DJ Dave Bernstein, will be talking about our most generous sponsors and their businesses. Any sponsor who pledges a donation to the Avon Foundation of 5 inches or more ($250+) will, if they wish, be mentioned and praised in the video. The video will also be uploaded to Google Video, You Tube, and anywhere else we can possibly promote it.

We will also showcase ALL our $50+ sponsors on the photos of my bald head which, similar to the Million Dollar Homepage, will have clickable links to a URL of their choice, hyperlinking the keywords they choose.

If you donate $100, 2 square inches of my scalp will be clickable. $150 will get you 3 square inches, and so forth.

of course, the image itself won’t be “true to size”, so the clickable areas will be scaled down accordingly. But it will all be done “to scale” and proportionate to my actual head.

And if you don’t think you can afford a $50 donation, any amount you pledge will still go a long way to help the cause, so we will have a very special “Friends of the Breast Cancer Crusade” section of the page where we will be mentioning all the names of all those who gave what they could.

This page, with video and clickable photos, will be promoted heavily on blogs, and in articles, and we intend to do our best to get the press involved with this. Essentially, I want to spread the word that even cancer isn’t an excuse to get depressed or give up on the pure joy of experiencing life and giving of ourselves to others.

This is my way of turning a negative thing like hair loss due to chemo treatments into something purely wonderful, and I need your help and support in order to do this right.

In fact, if we are right, this is the first time anything like this has been done, and if we are successful, it will serve as a shining example to others as well.

Here’s how to participate, and be part of something very special.

First, fill out our pledge form, before October 16th

Why? So that we’ll know who you are and can include you in the video and/or the clickable photos. The pledge form results will be emailed to us, and after you fill it out, you will be taken directly to the Avon Foundation Breast Cancer Crusade donation page.

Then, send your donation directly to the Avon Foundation, and be sure to select the “I would like to make this donation in honor or memory of someone else” checkbox so you can donate in honor of Sylvie Fortin. This will tell the Avon Foundation that you are donating because of this Shave-A-Thon and we will receive confirmation of the donation in time for the videotaping.

You will be asked to enter the Honoree information, as well as the Recipient information. By “recipient” they mean the person you wish to be notified of your donation. Please use the following information for that section…

Gift Type: in honor
Title: Mrs.
First Name: Sylvie
Last Name: Fortin

Street Address: 2729-D Innes Rd.
City: Ottawa
State/Province: Ontario
Zip/Postal: K1B 3J7
Country: Canada
Email Address: Sylvie@BreastCancerVictory.com

Be sure to complete these two steps prior to October 16th, so we can have all our materials prepared in time for the videotaping of the Shave-A-Thon.

As soon as possible after the Shave-A-Thon is done on the 17th, we will be publishing the video and clickable photos and starting the promotions.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for helping to make this ground-breaking event memorable, and to help spread awareness that breast cancer does not need to be a death sentence.

It can also remind us that giving from the heart will always be fashionable, even if being a bald woman isn’t.

And if you can help by sending an email to your list of friends and associates, announcing this event, it would be deeply appreciated!

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