If I am knitting, everything must be okay, right?

This week's blog comes courtesy of My Michelle.

I’ve grown up in a family of knitters – my sisters knit, my mother knitted, my grandmother knitted, Richard’s mom knitted, my sister in law is a fabulous knitter and I am sure there is a much deeper legacy if we go back in the family tree, of knitters.  Some of my most prized possessions are those little keepsake sweaters and baby blankets that my mom and sisters had knitted for each of our children upon their birth.  I have those tucked away and ready to pass on to our children when the time is right, and they bring little ones into the world.  

I had mentioned before, that my mother had a severe stroke several years ago now.  In her home, there is a small wooden chest that was made from a refurbished piece of furniture from her childhood home, and in it she had stored all of her knitting books, needles and odds and sods. I know there are some little buttons she had picked up to put on a sweater for one of the grandkids in one of the drawers, leftover yarn from projects she finished in another little corner, vintage pamphlets and patterns that she either made or always planned to get to in the bottom drawer, but time got away on her.

Richard’s mom, so proud of her son going to Queen’s University, knit him this amazing tricolour scarf – it must be at least 12 feet long, with this knotted fringe, you can wrap it around your neck several times and have lots of length left.   A lot of love and pride went into it’s making.  Every homecoming weekend we were able to attend, we would dig out that scarf and Richard would put on his Queen’s jacket and we would blend into the crowd of other proud graduate students out to cheer on the Queen’s Golden Gaels football game – belting out our “Oil thigh…..”.  When our daughter was accepted at Queens, Richard passed the scarf on to her and it had a place of honour and on display in residence at Victoria Hall, and later in her student apartment and it will carry on there for another couple years as she does her graduate work at Queens.  Oh, the stories that old scarf could tell!  My sister in law who is a world class knitter, knit me this amazing fair isle sweater from a pattern I had found in an old British magazine.  I wore that sweater for many years on my treks around Queen’s campus, the envy of many I am sure!  I still have that sweater and wear it every fall.  

I have also been known to break out the needles now and again and knit. I don’t seem to remember a time of learning to knit, it was just a natural thing, I think I just kind of learned it from watching my mother knit.  As a university student and when money was tight, I remember making home knit gloves for all of my friends at Queens, with these pretty cables on the wrist – I was pretty proud of how they turned out.  I remember knitting Richard this dark green sweater one year as well, again money was tight, but that sweater was made with love.  We were married for 7 years before we were blessed with our first son, Jonathan and it wasn’t an easy pregnancy.  I remember my younger sister had knit me a little lumbar pillow to help me get comfortable, I still have that little pillow tucked away.  My older sister Dianne knit a beautiful christening shawl for our children, and it is a treasured family heirloom.

But like most things, it’s hard to find time and energy to knit when you are busy with juggling a family with 2 careers, commuting, pursuing graduate school, and raising a family.  Now and again over the years, I’ve made a project or two, but it has really been since Richard was diagnosed that I’ve started to pick up the needles and work on a few things.  Stress knitting you might say.  I’m really into knitting home made socks, and always looking for a challenge, I  have worked out a few original designs, borrowing something from this pattern, and something from that pattern and working out the math (yes I manage to work in the geekiness, being a science girl at heart), to create something new.  I finished a pair and sent it to our daughter at Queens to keep her warm shortly after he was first diagnosed.   I’ve finished 4 pairs while he was on the first round of chemo.  Knitted a sweater on the 2^nd round of chemo.  Started more socks on the 3^rd round of chemo – I was in a bit of a knitting obsession you might say.  Then as the news got worse, the knitting started to drift away.  Richard and the kids keep trying to get me back on track, gave me some more wool for Christmas and a beautiful knitting bowl to hold my yarn, a few books and patterns, and yet it still sits in the bag.  I have a beautiful sweater I started that still sits on the needles.  I seem to have lost the spark, and I don’t know why.  

I think it may have something to do with how knitting is more than just knitting to me.  It’s creating something for someone to give away, for them to enjoy and wear, often attached to life milestones or holidays.  My subconscious  (well now that I am thinking about it) my conscious mind, is kind of blocking me because I don’t want to associate this next project with the troubled times we are treading.  

I think the day will come, when I’ll be able to pick up the needles again, and maybe then the rhythmic motion, stitch counting, and creating will bring me comfort.  I have a whole queue of projects and people waiting for things, not the least is our son Josh and a nice toque (I haven't forgotten Josh),  
Maybe I can make something from my mother’s little dresser and have a part of her with me or give away to my siblings, we miss her so.  Maybe I can get that Queens scarf back from Sophie and give it a place of pride around my neck and celebrate the many happy memories of a family well loved, and my Richard.

Knitting is like a little bit of home to me,

Love Michelle

Don't poke the bear!

Sorry, this week's blog title may be a little bit misleading. Don't get me wrong, I am definitely not fond of getting needles jabbed into me, in fact I have spent a good portion of my life trying to avoid  them all together. I would dread my visit for the blood draws at the medical clinic after my annual physical to get my blood tested. "Make a fist" & "small poke" are two phrases that I still prefer not to hear. Like I was saying, the title is misleading because I don't turn into a bear when the nurse or technician is trying to get the needle in my vein, in fact I'm actually a very compliant patient (much to my surprise at times). My new reality is having at least two 'jabs' a week. It is now a part of my 'normal' everyday life. 

When you have cancer you have lots of needles poked into you! Some to draw blood, others to get an I.V. line going. During my last round of chemo treatments I had a PICC line installed so the number of 'jabs' was significantly less. However the downside of having a PICC line is already well documented in previous blog posts. So jab away I say! I guess I am starting to get used to it now but I must say that I still look away when they say "small poke". 

At times, getting the needle into a vein can be difficult. Sometimes they have a hard time getting a vein to cooperate. Nothing worse than having to be jabbed more than once to get it in.  I did not realize that veins could move. Let me tell you, they can. Sometimes they can be very stubborn. My record is four attempts before success. Sometimes they have to bring in reinforcements, the nurse on the floor that for what ever reason, always seems to be able to get it on the first time.  Where were they four times ago! Anyways -luckily most times it only takes one try!

I understand the importance of taking blood samples prior to my weekly treatment. The results of the blood tests are used to  determine whether or not I can go ahead with treatment the next day or week and determine if changes are needed to dosage of the chemotherapy drugs prior to having my treatment. I guess you can say that 'jabs' mean I can continue have treatment, so poke away and I'll try not to be a bear!

I want to pay tribute and say special thanks to those that get 'jabbed' voluntarily to give blood.  You amaze me!

Have a great weekend.

Richard

Needles, scans and tests oh my!

Over the next three weeks, a whirl wind of tests, scans and appointments were ordered to determine the stage of my cancer and my treatment path. Since the tumour was very large, time was of the essence. We decided to select treatment close to home. We are so fortunate to have a regional Cancer Centre so close to our home. I can't imagine having to travel great distances for these tests. What must others be going through to get this information. Being away from home, travel times to and from appointments and even parking fees. This just adds increased levels of stress and concern for families.

Having recently retired as an elementary school principal, I thought my days of appointments, schedules and calendars were behind me. My fellow retirees had told me that retirement was freedom!

Freedom would have to wait. I needed a calendar to sort out and keep up with all of tests, scans and doctors appointments that were being scheduled for me. These tests were the diagnostics needed to determine if my tumour was indeed cancer, and if so, what stage of cancer I had and what the treatment plan would be. 

I have had more needles poke through my body in the last few weeks then in my entire life up to this point. Not really fond of needles. Try to avoid them, whenever possible but I really didn't have a choice. Unfortunately not possible to avoid in these circumstances.

I must admit that I am a little bit afraid of confined spaces in general, but having a CT scan and an MRI really tested that for me!   Not knowing what to expect is really the scary part, along with the fact that you are placed in a small tube like machine and told to stay completely still for several minutes. Not easy for a generally hyper person like myself! I really surprised myself that I could remain perfectly still for 30 minutes in an enclosed space. I was proud of myself for being able to stay still for that long but again I really didn't have a choice. I wanted to be sure that the test was completed once and that they would get the information/results that they needed to complete the treatment plan.

On Friday, August 9th, Michelle and I met with the thoracic surgeon who confirmed that I indeed had esophageal cancer. More appointments were scheduled and the plan was to have surgery after radiation & chemotherapy to reduce, shrink or even kill the tumour and then take it out!

We continued on with our tests! Pulmonary function test, a gastroscopy and a endoscopy. The final and most important of all the tests was the PET scan we were told. It just happened to be the final appointment in my long list of appointments scheduled. This test would determine whether or not my cancer had spread beyond my esophagus into other parts of my body.

Let me tell you it was the scariest test of them all! Even worse then the MRI which says something. Noticing multiple signs about radioactive materials and Government of Canada warning posters were the first indication of concern. Having the nurse leave the room, go into a steel doored room and come out with a metal needle that looked like it was more appropriate for an elephant than a human was even more concerning. I was told to drink the liquid substance, was sent into a dark closet area to relax on a recliner for thirty minutes and then brought in for the test. Others, who had gone through this test before, had told me that you will light up like a Christmas tree if the cancer has spread to other areas of the body. At the end of the procedure, I was handed a disc to give to my surgeon and told I was able to leave.

Would Christmas come early or would the lights remain off? We would find out in two days.

Richard