Sunny Side Up!

Check this out - Yikes! 

Lockdown lifted at London Regional Cancer Clinic after gun scare | CTV London News



Apparently there was some undue excitement at the cancer clinic on Tuesday. Someone spotted a man dressed in fatigues and armed with a rifle. Some reports say he was inside the clinic; others say he was not seen entering the building.

As if there isn't enough trauma and confusion in the cancer clinic without some knuckle-head wandering around scaring the be-jeepers out of people. Sometimes I just want to scream at the top of my lungs 'What is going on in this crazy world?' I keep wondering when God is going to put a stop to it and call us all on the carpet.

I had my own little episode of trauma as I entered the clinic for what I had hoped might be my last time today. But upon closer inspection...let's put it this way - I have to return in 3 months. I had the choice of going through another barrage of tests including a CAT scan, blood work and more, but I opted to self monitor for now and get in touch if symptoms presented themselves as untoward.

I choose to get on with my life. I have lots to do. Much to accomplish. People to love. I don't have time to get back into that old grind of medical regime.

But I won't be foolish either. I am a changed person in many ways since that wretched ovarian cancer took a toll on my soul. I know the importance of being aware and proactive. So I will do just that. Meanwhile, though, I will continue to give thanks that I am upright and on the right side of the grass.

One of my promises to God as I journeyed through the valley of ovarian cancer was that if I lived through it all then I would do what I could for the rest of my life to help women become aware of what that silent cancerous killer is and how it can quietly invade cells.

So tonight I will tuck myself into bed and be thankful for friends and family; for life and breath; for
my sweet, sweet Saviour and for having the strength and desire to live my days sunny side up!

Oh Canada 2013!

Happy Canada Day 2013!


     Here is a post from 2009. I have so much to be thankful for every day but as I look at this video from when I was still actively dealing with ovarian cancer I am reminded how much I love all my grandbabies so very, very much. I am proud to be Canadian and proud to be a Grandma! Sweet memories.

Check out this link:

http://glynis-myjourney.blogspot.ca/2009/01/o-canada-i-love-my-grandchildren.html

If All Else Fails...Follow the Direction

 Though storms rage all around us, God is there every step of the way. When the dark days come and we feel lower than a grasshopper, God carries us through.

Admittedly, I sometimes forget to think upon these things and that is when I get that sinking feeling and find my self stepping out of the boat and heading in the 'down' direction. It's when I turn my face heavenward that I truly draw strength and remember how God is always, always there. God has wonderful ways of reminding us that He is perfectly in control.

Take yesterday morning. It was blood work day for Happy Hubby. His diagnosis of chronic lymphocytic leukaemia (CLL) has been on the agenda for six months now. Today we were going to see what changes had transpired over the past months.

My dearly beloved and I were chatting and planning and just passing the time as we waited for the blood work results. I was listening to him talk about this, that and the other and inwardly I was thanking God that he is doing so well. As my ADD brain is wont to do, I was carrying on a conversation but I was also wondering what God had in mind for us down the road. I have to admit that I didn't ask for a physical sign that very moment, but I did wonder when He would really show us what direction we should go.

Then it happened. Right in the middle of a chat about how we want to downsize I saw it. Right over my happy hubby's shoulder. The beautiful symbol of hope. A cross. Upon further inspection I saw that it was a reflection of part of the outside railing around the Healing Garden outside. But just the way it was perfectly arranged was balm for my soul. We both smiled and nodded and decided that that had to be a confirmation that Jesus is with us and we don't have to worry as long as we keep heading in the direction of the cross!

A few minutes later we were called into the examination room. Gilles was given a good going over by the nurse practitioner. Blood work - one type of white blood cells were a smidge elevated but another had actually gone down a little. Nothing of great concern to the medical powers that be. Next appointment? Six months unless something is amiss. Judging by the reassurance we received earlier, it is well...with our souls. Peace like a river...

Thanks be to God! Yay!

It's Here! Zeal for Teal 2013...

 Excitement abounds. It's April and that means Zeal for Teal is peeking around the corner. On April 27th, at the Drayton Arena, our 5th annual fundraiser for the Ovarian Cancer Canada Walk of Hope will raise the roof once more.


     Over 100 women [and we know of at least one brave man] will gather for a multitude of reasons. Zeal for Teal is a spectacular day out for participants to relax and be creative.  We started out as an exclusive scrap booking event but over the years we have evolved to include crafting of every ilk.

     One of the main reasons for starting Zeal for Teal in 2009 was to, number one, raise awareness and encourage women to pursue symptoms that persist. Secondly, our plan was to help do what we could to raise funds to help discover a test for early detection and/or maybe one day, a cure.

     Amanda's super idea has blossomed into something neither of us ever imagined. I think we both thought that Zeal for Teal would be a wonderful one time event. But our encouraging and faithful attendees keep coming back and bringing friends. So here we are again. Zeal for Teal 2013 celebrates, remembers and pushes on.

     Our theme this year is Alice in Wonderland and the Hoity Toity Tea Party. We are so excited about this theme for it gives us great opportunity to be MAD!

     For anyone who might be getting Curiouser and Curiouser, the day will be filled with everything from card games to Mock Turtle surprises. The Queen of Hearts (yours truly) will be on hand to boss everyone around.

   

 Expect to be surprised if you are coming, as the zany cast of characters help everyone feel right at home down the rabbit hole. Something very special that we are doing this year [thanks for the idea, Renee] is we are collecting donations of non-perishable food for the local foodbank. Anyone who generously brings a donation will receive an extra door prize ticket. We have a ton of super gifts for door prizes, some crazy wonderful silent auction items and lots of enticingly interested penny table items. We have such generous people in this community and beyond. Amanda and I are always amazed at the generosity of friends, family and even those we hardly even know.

   
We are excited, too, about an idea from a special friend and wise
lady. Johanne Robertson, editor of Maranatha News in Toronto, came up with a brainwave. She suggested that since the Canadian penny would no longer be of any pecuniary value or interest, we should collect pennies for the cause. Before we knew it the Zeal for Teal Penny Appeal was born and folks across Canada are now saving their cents.

     Not only do we have fantastic, and creatively clever participants who spend the whole day with us, we will also open our door for visitors again. Some people do want to come out and support us but they can't commit to spending a full day. That's okay. For $5 anyone can drop in for a visit and have a nice cuppa', a snack and share in the fun. For $10, visitors can do the same and stay for a positively delicious lunch.

     My sister, Rosemary, our dedicated and gifted back drop, artist and creator, is working hard right now getting everything ready for the big day. You will be impressed!

   

Committee members, Amber, Darlene, Rosemary, Amanda, Amanda and yours truly are on the edge of our seat excited as we get our last minute plans and preparations into place. We are all tickled and inspired once again, at the great response.

     Life is good.  The end of October marks my five year 'cancerversary.' I know it's just a number, but there is something psychologically pacifying about that 5 year mark. I just pray that our collective efforts over these past years in the least, has alerted and ultimately helped women become more aware!

     The generosity of friends, family and community has been a blessing to us all. God is so good!

Can I Have This Dance?

   




Why do we fear death? What causes us to freak out and think the worst when we are diagnosed with cancer? What is it about the human condition that causes us to sob silently when we know 'the end might be near?' We all die. We all know that. No exceptions.

 If I had enough time in a day I am sure I could whittle it away philosophizing about the human condition. But there is no time for that. I experienced cancer and both my happy hubby and I learned a ton. When I was first diagnosed with ovarian cancer back in 2008, I was, admittedly, shocked and I travelled quickly through the stages - shock, denial, confusion, sadness and acceptance. God taught me plenty. Probably the biggest lesson was about the fragility and brevity of life and how not to waste one iota. (P.S. Just because I arrived at the acceptance stage doesn't mean I didn't freak out on occasion - like when I lost my hair or some brain cells along the way.)

     November 1st of this year will mark my five year point. They say if you survive to this anniversary, a cancer patient can consider herself no longer in remission. Dare I say cured? That brings me great joy but today, it also brings me great guilt.

     Perhaps it has something to do with my hubby being diagnosed with leukaemia? Could it be a defense mechanism at play as I clearly have walked a mile in his mocassins and I don't want him to travel the same road?  Maybe it's because Karen and Joanne and Becky died from ovarian cancer and I didn't.  Survivor guilt, maybe...

     My sweetheart has chronic leukaemia and the haematologist told us he is in stage 0. Basically stage 0 means we can breathe easy for a while. We walked away from the cancer clinic armed with the knowledge that all could be well for a while. However, the nasty niggle is that chronic leukaemia is just that - chronic and it doesn't go away. Slow progression is the prognosis. Although no one can really predict how quickly aggravating and troubling symptoms will rear their ugly head. At present that grinning groom of mine is experiencing little except tiredness. I notice he tires a little more easier than he has in the past. He beats me to bed most nights and a nap in the afternoon when the opportunity arises is not uncommon.

     So what do we do with the rest of our lives? We can sit here bemoaning our fate, wondering why we were dished up a double whammy? We might contemplate what it was that we did wrong in our life and then begin to feel sorry for the way the cards were dealt. Or we can roll out of bed each morning giving thanks for each breath, each golden sunshine, each smile...each blessing.

     Both my dearly beloved and I head back to face the music in June. I have to check my calendar but I think we go the same week. I head to the cancer clinic in London. He heads to the cancer clinic in Kitchener. Maybe we should meet halfway, stop our vehicles and dance in the middle of the county road like we did so many years ago and dance to the sounds of Ann Murray - Can I have this Dance for the Rest of my Life...did I ever tell you that story? One day...Sweet memories, which no one can erase. Those I will treasure...

Reflections from the Cancer Clinic Waiting Room

As I walk towards the door, I wonder what lies in store. 

12/12/12

Some say this is a lucky one. On my two hour trip to the London cancer clinic today, I listened on CBC as the hosts interviewed some giddy couples who had determined that to be married on the 12th day of the 12th month in the year 2012 was a good sign. Lucky, some said. Exciting, said others. As I glanced at my watch as it neared 12 noon, I wondered myself if this would be a good day for me, too. After all, the numbers aligned on the calendar. Would they soon align on my medical chart and would I be declared 'good to go'?

...Not much has changed here since I last paid a visit in June. Same full reception area. Same complement of medical staff and anxious patients awaiting verdicts, chemotherapy, good news...

   Just as I start thinking about how far London is from Drayton and how none of the faces look familiar, lo and behold, I spot them. A couple of Draytonites. When you bump into someone at the cancer clinic the typical Canadian greeting, how are you? seems a little more invasive than when asking the same question at Timmies or in a retail store. I was sad to hear that prostate cancer was the reason I met my neighbour there.

     Such a lesson. I may live in a small town but that doesn't mean I know everything about everybody. I'm a little sad about that, because I would love to be able to 'help' encourage and offer hope to someone travelling a similar road. And there is a tiny measure of guilt that creeps in when I hear of someone else going through cancer. I am not sure what that is; perhaps a wicked force breathing in my ear quizzing me on why I should be a survivor and someone else not...I have spoken with other cancer survivors about that, and I know it is not uncommon. When this happens I try to give it over to something positive.

     Behind closed doors lurk problems and situations; concerns and heartbreak. I suppose we can't always be privy to everything. I know that I am far from being alone on my journey. We all have different baggage but, ultimately, we all journey the same life path. Thank goodness, with Jesus as the Gatekeeper and Divine Greeter, the path - although sometimes rocky and rough, always leads to an eternal Hope and a ceaseless raison d'être.

     So when I finally get into the examination room and endure the third degree by the wonderfully, professional primary nurse, I get into my less than glamorous gown and wait. I fill my time by writing - a therapeutic and perfect way to spend an interval. Soon my oncologist appears on the scene with a student in tow. We chat. We discuss my psychological health. We weave around all sorts of words; he tells me how good my hair looks (gray and straight - is he crazy?) and we laugh when he tells his attentive student how he has seen me through all the stages of hair! I bemoan the fact that I no longer have chemo curls.

     Finally the 'cancer talk.' He asks questions. I tell him about the 'other lumps.' He checks and charts them and says they seem to be nothing to worry about. I am a lumpy person. He examines more. Then he informs me that 'I am good to go.' He wants to see me again in June. Six month protocol. They leave. I breath a sigh of relief; utter a prayer of thankfulness and dress.

     Next Tuesday is Gilles' turn. I will take my journal and the knowledge that God is in control...

   
In everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.  Thessalonians 5:18

   

 

Dad

     I know my blog is supposed to be focussed on my journey with ovarian cancer and for the most part I try to do that. But today, I cannot help thinking about Dad. It's getting pretty close to Remembrance Day and so I wanted to honour him in some little way. 

     If I have to make a connection to Dad and ovarian cancer, I can. I recall the morning of my surgery in London. I wanted desperately to see him before I went under the knife, so Gilles, my sweet hubby, took me to Dad's home which was maybe just over a kilometre from the hospital. It was early in the morning - 6:30 - so I wondered if he would even be up. I was so sad when after many tries at the doorbell and knocking, no one answered. I would go to the hospital anyway. I had to. But I was sadly lacking a final hug from my poppa bear. 

     When we arrived at the hospital, imagine my surprise when we entered the waiting room, there was Dad. All 82 years of him, seated on his motorized scooter, wearing his British tweed jacket and fedora. I wept like a baby as he hugged me and said he wanted to see me before I had surgery. I will never forget Dad's act of selflessness that morning. He had left home in the dark on his scooter just so he could be with 'his Dinny,' so he said...I love my dad...

The Royal Marines

 more than just a green beret, it's a state of mind! 

      I heard that saying somewhere. It's a slogan about the  British Royal Marines. I wonder if maybe Dad didn't utter those words sometime or maybe I read this catchphrase in his Globe and Laurel Royal Marines magazine somewhere. Wherever I heard it, it actually holds a measure of truth. Even now, 59 years after Dad left the RM 45 Commando ranks, he still has the state of mind of a Royal Marine.

     Another snappy slogan that anyone who knows Dad well has heard a million times:

'Once a Marine, Always, a Marine!'

It's true, too. The sticker on Dad's scooter says so. But not only does the sticker say so, so do the pictures on Dad's wall.

If my mother was still alive I am sure she would have him drawn and quartered for adorning the kitchen and hallway with all his fine military photos and memorabilia. But Dad lives alone now, so his walls are his to adorn. And adorn he does.

Dad, though, does not decorate his walls simply with pictures of yesteryear. They are stories; representations of a life lived according to the military - both good and challenging. Ask Dad about any of the black and white photographs on the wall. Each one will spark a memory; an experience and a story. For anyone who is interested and who would take the time to listen, he will use a plethora of words and his years of experience to relay the story in each one.

Since Mom passed away and Dad moved to Drayton, close to where I hang my hat, I have come to know Dad so much more. I am happy to be able to hear his stories and help him swap and switch his framed 'stories' around whenever he adds something else to the lot on the wall. Dad is 86 now and his memory is excellent. His stories are not always the glory and the honour; many are sad and troubling - although Dad is still loathe to go into any kind of detail of the horror of war. And I think, personally, I don't need to know those details.

There is no way in this world that I will be able to recall the precise setting of each picture nor relay the series of events told in each representation. My memory is just not that good. So I had an an idea. I have started a little journal. I have put a number on the back of each photograph and then the same number appears in the journal. When Dad is ready, he relays the story behind the picture. What an amazing experience that is. To know and to learn so much about my father's past. It's like a little piece of history coming to life right before my eyes.

     One day with a little help from my daughter who is good in the photography department, we can put a book together for our family. We can remember through Dad's eyes, the events that made him into who he is today. I am proud of my poppa. He has been through a lot. He lost his mother when he was only two years old. He enlisted when he was just over 16 years of age. Shortly after that, his father died. So he hasn't had an easy life.

    This week as I don my poppy I will think of Dad and all the other brave men and women who fought, and battled so that generations to come could taste freedom. I will thank God for the gift of life. I will bow my head in prayer for all that I have as a result of many sacrifices of the courageous men and women who lived and fought through the war. I will try to remember to never take anything for granted and I will count Dad in as one of the most treasured blessings in my life.

Bitter-sweet?

          Finally, an appointment. We received the letter today from the hospital informing us that my hubby will be assessed by the haematologist. The definitive diagnosis is leukaemia. That's the bad news. The ray of sunshine that pervades the black cloud, however, is that the sweet man who said 'I do' to me 34 plus years ago, is dealing with the chronic form - chronic lymphocytic leukaemia (CLL) they call it. So now we once again wait for the day of the appointment to discover what the experts might say.The so-called good part about CLL is that it is slow and progressive. That is somewhat reassuring. So no chemotherapy or radiation off the bat. We await direction from the wise ones but meanwhile we ['specially me] try to stop playing the what if game. I did it when I battled my own cancer but then God, through a series of experiences and a few special people, showed me that everything would be okay.

     Do y'ever wonder why things happen? I admit that I sometimes do and sometimes I question out loud, but there is just something deep down in the recesses of my soul that whisper that there is something better. This world is merely a gateway to something extraordinary. It's a messed up crazy world we live in and some of the sad, brutal horrible things that happen make me want to curl into a ball and hide.

     I've heard it all.  "If there is a God, why does He let these things happen?" "Why do accidents happen?" "Why do disasters wreak havoc?" "Do you really think that a merciful God would allow babies to die or children to be abused?" "Why do young people shoot each other? Bully? Kill themselves?" Why did God let you both have cancer?"

     We all have our opinions. (Some are quicker to share theirs than others.) I don't have all the answers and I don't believe anyone, no matter how eloquent or sage, can truly have an answer for all the dreadfulness that is part of this world. But just because horror and hardship enter, doesn't mean I can denounce and give up on God. Besides, I don't want a fair-weather God.

    I know in my heart God is not the purveyor and perpetrator of wickedness. There is another force beyond our capacity to comprehend, that seeks to destroy.

     For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Ephesians 6:12 

  So we don't waste time bemoaning the fact that another blip on the radar is seemingly steering us off the course of normalcy again. We open the trunk, dig out the armour and once again prepare ourselves for the fiery darts. My dearly beloved is embarking on a journey. He is courageous and ready. I am thankful to be able to travel with him. We don't really know at this point how long the journey will take, but thanks be to God, we do know the destination...

Helping the Homeless

                                  

          Tender Heart Ministries in Greater Toronto

You asked how YOU could help?

…Give a “Jesus Present” this Christmas and Share the love

            Michael Bull Roberts is looking to help 400 homeless and displaced youth on the Toronto streets this winter.  Each needy young person will be given a backpack containing basic necessities to help them make it through the lonely, chilly days.

            Make a young man or woman’s Christmas a little brighter by either giving a cash donation to help purchase items to fill the back packs or by giving a useful gift-card such as Tim Horton’s, Shopper’s Drug Mart, Walmart, etc.  I am collecting all the items and any cash donations for Michael and then I will send them on to him.

            Please attach your gift card to a Christmas card and send a personal ‘generic’ message of love for the recipient. Some of these kids can’t remember the last time they felt love. Your love gift will make a difference. A thank you letter will be sent to you and your family to share on Christmas Day for any donation or gift. No gift too small.

May God bless you for your generosity.     

(Please respond before December 15^th, 2012)

Glynis M. Belec         

519-638-3215;   gbelec@bell.net

What if...

What if each sunrise heralded a day filled with joy unending? What if people truly loved each other unconditionally? What if pain and suffering were not known to mankind? No more angry, hurtful words. No bitterness, no anger. No more cancer...of the body or spirit...no more crime or disaster; disappointment or despair.  If spoken words were free from callousness and accusation; if power and monetary gain were not the motivation. If acquisition of the biggest and the best were the least desired and trumped by concern for our neighbour - wouldn't that be...uh...heavenly?

Sometimes I wonder why we have to have stress in our life. I think if there was no stress, then we could sample a taste of normalcy. But then I remember stress forces me to [choose to] relinquish control to God. I do that because I have found out so many times in my life how I am not in control.  All through my own cancer journey, I have been reminded about the love & power of God. Here I am, almost four years since my last chemotherapy, looking forward to that grand magic number - 5 years. Just as my anticipated joy looks like it might just come into fruition, another stress lurks in the wings.

A powerful message. Always thankful to Dale for this one! 

Two weeks ago my happy hubby had a bone marrow biopsy. The pattern was the same. Routine physical. Checking out a suspicious abnormality and before we know it, my dearly beloved is now facing the prospect of cancer. Wednesday, we meet with the doctor to get the final diagnosis but it looks like we are dealing with leukaemia.

Yea, it really does seem that joy unending is something we can only experience one heavenly day. Meanwhile we face the music and dance the dance. We are not sure why things always happen but one thing we do know is that God is there and is holding us near. We are choosing to trust and to make the days count. 'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus...