N.J. Lindquist's Blog, page 7

Feeling Overwhelmed These Days? I Am.

This isn't me, but it accurately portrays how I've often felt over the last four years.

“Bad (people) need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good (people) should look on and do nothing.”

John Stuart Mill, 1867

(I'm going to assume Mr. Mills would be okay with my use of "people" instead of "men."
In his day, women's and children's voices weren't commonly heard.) 

I've had a lot of trouble focusing. 

The only way I can describe it is to say that it's like I'm living in two parallel worlds: one normal and one upside down. 

 

In one, I'm a normal person who cleans my bedroom, eats meals, sees my family when I can, goes for walks, makes lists of what I need to do next, and so forth.

In the other, I'm trying to get used to the fact that the world as we know it might burn up in 20 or 30 years unless we start changing the way we live. That's if we can survive the current US presidency, which seems bent on destruction for the sake of wealth and power. Not to mention the numerous countries who have nuclear weapons and might decide to use them at any time.  

At my core, I'm a fiction writer, but over the last three or so years, I’ve pretty well given up the struggle to even try to write anything because there's just too much reality going on around me. Even though I’ve often used fiction to attack things I see as wrong, such as racism and sexual abuse, over the last few years, even trying to make up a story felt like escapism. I should be doing something more useful.

But what?

Added to that, since last October I’ve been working through the breast cancer process, so everything in my life was kind of set aside. The only things I could realistically do, aside from eating and looking after myself, were read, watch some TV, and do some jigsaw puzzles, a few pieces at a time.

 

And think. I couldn't stop thinking.

I’m feeling somewhat more like myself now; however, I tend to sit here, trying to focus, but feeling overwhelmed and confused. Running water into my fancy pink glass bottle reminds me that there are glaciers melting in Greenland and other places because of the unnatural heat. And that there are First Nation people in our country, as well as people in Flint, Michigan, and all over the world who don't have healthy water to drink or in which to bathe and wash their clothes. Getting out my fall and winter clothes makes me think of the growing number of homeless people, some of whom will freeze to death this winter.Buying new towels seems wrong when there are asylum-seekers being mistreated and even dying in concentration camps where they don’t even have a cot to sleep on.Working on a new chapter for my LoveChild memoir, which I began years ago, reminds me of abortion and the Roe vs Wade debate that’s still ongoing. Many Republicans and Canadian Conservatives want to make abortion illegal while at the same time limiting access to sex education and birth control, in spite of the harm that will do.Editing a mystery story I wrote a few years ago, which involves the dead wife of a mayor, reminds me of “Fake News.” And that reminds me that the President of the United States, a country that in the past has prided itself on being a world leader, has been documented as lying more than 10,000 times. Probably up to 12,000 by now. And he's not the only politician lying. Truth is at a premium these days.  Moon of the Crusted Snow—a YA fantasy I picked up because a lot of people I follow were talking about it on Twitter—makes me wonder how we could survive during climate change. Like, practically. What would we have to do? But it also reminds me that when I was in university, I taught a Sunday school class that had kids from the Brandon Residential School in it, and I feel sick. No one told me what was going on there. I truly was oblivious, and I find that horrifying.Watching TV when an election ad filled with lies and half truths comes on reminds me that I voted for Stephen Harper even while I hated his attack ads. I shudder. I honestly though it was the PR people from the party who were responsible for the terrible ads, and not him. What was I thinking? And now Sheer is following in the same path, and there’s no way I’ll make that mistake again.I hear in the news about hurricanes and the death and devastation they cause. Back to climate change. What are we going to do? Do we have a plan that might work? And how could we ever get all the stakeholders to agree?I look at our tiny back yard garden filled with perennials and a few annuals, and am reminded that acres and acres of trees in the Amazon basin have been intentionally burned, resulting in the loss of not only the lives of people, animals, and plants, but also the loss of vital oxygen and carbon dioxide. Which means death for the world itself comes closer.Every week there seems to be another gun massacre, typically in the US, but not always. And I see Evangelical Christians saying that the abundance of guns aren’t the problem, but it’s the lack of prayer in schools. Seriously? What world are those people living in? Most of the massacres have been carried out by white supremacists. And white supremacy is rampant, even here in Canada.I hear several of Canada's politicians, in the leadership debate this week, vowing to decrease immigration into Canada and at the same time give less money to help other countries. And I shudder. I know that, all over the world, ordinary people who aren't as fortune as we have been, are running from violence and certain death, and instead of finding compassion and help, are being locked in concentration camps where they are being tortured, sexually abused, and even killed. And we should do less to help them, not more?And I realize that I'd be crazy not to feel overwhelmed! 

I need to tell you up front that I consider myself an evangelical (small e) Christian, but I am not, nor have I ever been, an Evangelical (capital E) Christian.

In my opinion, what Donald Trump and the Republican Party are doing in the United States is despicable.

But the fact that many Evangelical Christians are not only supporting Trump and his enablers, but venerating, and, in some cases, idolizing him, makes me sick to my stomach. 

And yes, I know there are people like this in Canada too.People who believe they know God's will better than anyone else. People who use a ministry for God to justify or cover up their corruption. People who believe black and brown people are somehow less "human" and therefore of less value than white people.People who think it’s okay to lie and cheat as long as you “win.”People who call themselves “pro-life” but could care less about what happens to the babies after they’re born.People who believe women are intrinsically worth less than men and should know their place.People who absolve rapists and abusers while degrading and causing further abuse to the victims.People who hate those who are queer, and refuse to give them equal rights.People who refuse to listen to anyone who disagrees with them.People who seek power regardless of the cost to others. I'll be honest. I'm scared. I don't know what kind of world this is going to be in ten years. Okay, maybe one year.

And some days, my brain gets stuck in a loop that goes over and over these and other issues, and I get mired in a helplessness. What can I possibly do to make a difference? Especially while I still have low energy from the last year of breast cancer.

 
I feel overwhelmed.

But then I remember what I believe.

And who I believe.

Teacher, which command in the law is the most important?”

Jesus answered, "‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.' This is the first and most important command. And the second command is like the first: ‘Love your neighbor as you love yourself.’ All the law and the writings of the prophets depend on these two commands.”

Matthew 22:36-40 (NCV)

The Spirit produces the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. There is no law that says these things are wrong.

Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified their own sinful selves. They have given up their old selfish feelings and the evil things they wanted to do. We get our new life from the Spirit, so we should follow the Spirit. We must not be proud or make trouble with each other or be jealous of each other.

Galatians 5:22-26 (NCV)

I remember growing up during the Cold War.

​Nikita Khrushchev banging his shoe at the UN. The Cuban Missile Crisis. Vietnam. Bomb shelters.

Walking to school after lunch just after hearing on the radio that John F. Kennedy had been shot. Seeing my teacher shed tears as she told us the President of the United States was dead. 

The assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Bobby Kennedy. The Civil Rights Movement. Richard Nixon. Watergate.

In Canada, the FLQ, Residential Schools, the Pickton murders, more than 1,000 missing and murdered Indigenous women....

Ugliness isn't new. Neither is a fear of the unknown. 

I also remember that I prefer to face reality rather than to pretend things aren't happening. To know the truth. To deal with things the way they are and not the way i wish they were.

And I realize that the one thing I can do right now, and do well, is to write, which, thankfully, doesn’t take a ton of physical energy.

So I think I’ll write about some of the things that have been on my mind over the last few years.

At the very least, I won’t continue to look on, feeling overwhelmed, but doing nothing.

The post Feeling Overwhelmed These Days? I Am. appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

LoveChild 14a: Our Sherritt / Baird Heritage Pt. 1

My desire to understand my parents led me all the way back to Ireland during the famine of the 1840s.

The post LoveChild 14a: Our Sherritt / Baird Heritage Pt. 1 appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

LoveChild 14: Our Sherritt / Baird Heritage Pt. 1

Note: This post has been extremely difficult to write because I’ve spent a lot of hours trying to track down information on various sites, including Ancestry. I started it last fall and found myself following fascinating rabbit trails and coming to frustrating dead ends, all while I was starting chemotherapy for breast cancer. So I got stuck and basically gave up.

I picked it up again in the spring following my radiation treatments, went back along many of the same rabbit trails, found some new ones, and got stuck once again.

At this point, after several more weeks’ worth of trying to find information and, yes, following the same rabbit trails as well as some new ones, I’m just going to put down what I know at this moment. 

If/when I learn more, I’ll update it. If you have any information to add, I'd love to hear from you! 

“ To get through the hardest journey we need take only one step at a time, but we must keep on stepping."

Chinese Proverbs

 My paternal grandmother was Mary Jane Sherritt, who was often called Jennie.

Unlike my paternal grandfather, who was born in Ireland and came to Canada on his own, Jennie was born in Canada to parents who were second and third generation Canadian.

As was the case with my paternal grandfather’s ancestors, who went from Scotland to what is now Northern Ireland during the Plantation of Ulster, Jennie's ancestors had likely moved from England to the northwest corner of Ireland during a later stage of the Plantation of Ulster.

You may recall from my last post that the Plantation of Ulster began as a political move by England (under King James VI) to retain his authority in Ireland by taking land from the Irish Catholics who had fought against English rule, and giving it to Scottish and English Protestants who had shown their loyalty to England. (Yes, it’s a lot more complicated than that! And plantation was a particularly nice word. Google it and you'll find many articles and whole books on the subject.) Here's one link.

Like my paternal grandfather's ancestors, Jennie's ancestors didn’t own their land, but were tenant farmers under Scottish and British landowners.

(Note: If you read historical novels, notice that very few of them are actually written about the tenant farmers and their families. Rather, they tend to show up as background characters, often uneducated or subservient. Hmm.) 

A Few Details on the Plantation of Ulster (with help from Wikepedia )

Ulster was the name of a province in the north of Ireland with nine counties. Six of them—Antrim, Armagh, Down, Fermanagh, Derry (Londonderry), and Tyrone—now make up Northern Ireland. The other three—Cavan, Donegal and Monaghan—are now in the north of Ireland.

The map below is free at Irish-Geneology-Toolkit.
(Click on the map to enlarge it.)

Since most land-owning families in Ireland had taken their estates by force in the years before the Plantation of Ulster, very few of them... had proper legal titles for them. As a result, in order to obtain such titles, they were required to forfeit a quarter of their lands. This policy was used... to break up Catholic Irish estates (especially the Gaelic ones) around the country... Small plantations were established in a few other areas, including County Leitrim (where some of my paternal grandmother's mother's family lived). 

The early plantations in the 16th century tended to be based on small "exemplary" colonies. Plantations in 16th- and 17th-century Ireland involved the confiscation of land by the English crown and the colonization of this land with settlers from the island of Great Britain. There had already been smaller-scale immigration to Ireland as far back as the 12th century, which had resulted in a distinct ethnicity in Ireland known as the Old English, or Hiberno-Normans. Unofficial plantations carried out privately by landlords also took place, such as those in County Antrim and County Down (where my paternal grandfather's ancestors lived after coming fom Scotland).

County Monaghan, where my paternal grandmother's father's ancesters lived, although not part of the province of Ulster, and not a plantation county, did receive Scots settlers in the 17th century as witness the First Monaghan Presbyterian Church in Monaghan Town which celebrated its Tercentenary in 1997.

More Information

Before I get into the actual families, a few thoughts that stood out to me as I researched their history :

The people my paternal grandmother descended from, like my paternal grandfather, were, for the most part:

Struggling on a daily basis just to survive (especially during the Irish Potato Famine).Unlikely to have had much education.Mostly farmers or farm labourers, and housewives. The girls/women might also have been hired to work as maids, cooks, etc.Really limited in names for their children—they seem to have used the same names in nearly every generation! And each family seemed to use a lot of the same names. Which makes it really hard to be sure who's who. Protestants (Church of England, Wesleyans, or Methodists) who had a strong faith in God.Wanting a better life for their families.Brave? Stubborn? Desperate? They left their homes and all they knew to look for a better life for themselves and their families across a wide ocean.Unconcerned (unaware?) that the land they were going to had been ripped from the indigenous people who lived there.But this wasn't new. Their ancestors had come to Ireland (whether by choice or not) to settle on land that had been taken from others. And, quite possibly, further back, their ancestors had come from Normandy in the Norman conquest. And before that? Who knows.Right or wrong, throughout history, people have been pushed out of their homes, either by circumstances (famine, climate change, etc.) or by being forced out by other, more powerful, people. And it continues to happen. Maybe it's time we came up with a plan to help people who, like my parents' ancestors, were just trying to survive and care for their families.  


The Sheritt Family 

I traced the Sherritt line back to John and Rachael Sherritt, but found nothing more on either of them or their ancestors. Not even Rachael’s maiden name.

It’s likely the Sherritt family came to Ireland from England, as I indicated above. It’s also very possible that they originally came from Normandy during the Norman invasion of England. Their original name could have been Sherard, Sherrard, Sherrat, Shirrard, Sherar Sheritt Sherrit, Shiel, Sheals, Shipp, Sirart, Scirart, or another variation.

In any case, there were Sherritts in the county of Cheshire, in North West England, during the Middle Ages. And a number of people from that area did moved to Ireland during or after the Plantation of Ulster. 

()

John Sherritt was born around 1772 in the Townland of Drumucker, Carrigallen, County Leitrim, which is in the north of Ireland, just below County Fermanagh. I assume Drumucker was a farming area near the village of Carrigallen.

Rachael, his wife, was born in 1773, and without doubt came from the same area since farmers and farm labourers rarely moved around in those days.

According to the Irish census of 1821, which is at the Leitrum Geneology Centre, John and Rachael then had six living children ranging in age from eighteen to two. All of the children were born in Drumucker, which I assume means they had home births.

The one I’m interested in was the second son, Thomas Sherritt, who was born in 1813. He married Jane Fee on January 8, 1835, when he was 22 years old and Jane was 20.

The Fee Family

Jane’s parents appear to have been Edward Fee (1795-1830) and Margaret Fox (1795-1850). However, since Edward was presumably born in County Antrium and Margaret in County Leitrim, that may not make sense. Although it is possible that one of the families moved or that they met at a mutual friend or relative's home. The country was already struggling with lack of food by then so Edward's family might have moved further south.

Edward Fee’s father seems to have been a Thomas Fee (1750-1812), and his father might have been Peter Fee, but I found myself constantly getting lost in a maze trying to find out more about them, so I've given up for now. Let's just say there were several Fees with similar names and ages. And more than a few of them crossed the Atlantic. 

A Side Note: The Irish Potato Famine

It's important to note that the 1800s were very difficult for those in Ireland, with the Irish Potato Famine creating chaos in the mid-part of that century. Farming had always been a struggle, but in the middle of that century it became really bad. According to Britannica.com, as many as one million people in Ireland died from starvation or famine-related diseases. Up to two million people emigrated. By 1921, when Ireland was given independence, the population was half of what it had been in the early 1840s.

County Kerry, Republic of Ireland - August 17th 2018: A sign giving information about the Potato Blight and the Irish Diet at the Kerry Bog Village Museum in County Kerry, Republic of Ireland.

Dublin, Ireland - August 7, 2017: Great Irish Famine bronze statue set on Custom House Quay along Liffey River in Docklands. All six figures, male and female, plus dog. Green trees and cloudscape.

Thomas and Jane Sheritt came to Canada in about 1847, during the height of the Irish Potato Famine. On a ship similar to the one below. 

Their youngest child, Jane, was baptized in England in 1845. In the baptizmal record, her parents are called "travellers or sojourners." I wonder if the family had already begun the journey that would lead them to Canada. 

"The Great Irish Potato Famine of 1847 was the cause of death, mainly from starvation, of over a million Irish. It was also the motivation behind the mass exodus of hundreds of thousands of Irish to North America. Because passage to Canada was less expensive than passage to the United States, Canada was the recipient of some of the most destitute and bereft Irish.

Passage was difficult for those making the 3,000 mile voyage from Ireland. Crammed into steerage for over six weeks, these "Coffin Ships" were a breeding ground for many diseases. The primary destination for most of these ships was the port of Québec and the mandatory stop at the quarantine island of Grosse Île. By June of 1847, the port of Québec became so overwhelmed, that dozens of ships carrying over 14,000 Irish queued for days to make landing. It is estimated that almost 5,000 Irish died on Grosse Île and it is known to be the largest Irish burial ground exclusive of Ireland. 

The above is from the Library and Archives Canada website

In 1847, the oldest of their five children would have been 9, and the youngest 2. I can't even imagine how terrifying that voyage would have been for the young family.

It would appear that Jane’s parents, Edward Fee and his wife Margaret emigrated as well, because they both died in 1850 in South Durham, a small farming community in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, south of Drummondville and east of Montreal. They were both 55. They might have died in an accident, but many immigrants died from illnesses exacerbated by their poor health. 

There is also a Morgan Fee, who was married with four children, who died in Drummond in 1850, on Nov. 12. But he was 40, which would have made him too old to be their son Morgan. He could have been a brother of Edward's, or cousin. 

My best guess is that the Sherritts and Fees had made their way to South Durham because they had family or friends who had homesteaded there earlier. However, they didn't stay. They likely made their way by boat, by wagon, or by walking, to Toronto, and from there to Hay Township.

An article on the many difficulties faced by the Irish immigrants who came through Toronto

One Last Side Note: Canadian Ship Building

For some reason, I assumed that all the ships coming to Canada were from the UK. So looked for more information. And got a surprise.

By the mid-19th century Canada had become a major seafaring nation. Canada's ports were crowded with sailing vessels, shipbuilding yards flourished, and Canadian ships sailed every major ocean and visited every major port doing the world's business.

In Canada's age of sail (1800-75) over 4000 ships, each exceeding 500 tons burthen, were built in Canada.

In 1878 Canadian-registered ships numbered 7196 and totalled 1 333 015 tons. Among the nations, Canada stood fourth in seagoing tonnage.

https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/sailing-ships

The 1851 Census of Canada East, Canada West, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia shows the Thomas Sherritt family living in Ontario.

Hay Township, Ontario, was an area east of Lake Huron up to what is now Highway 4, and roughly between the towns of Grandbend and Goderich. It was opened up to settlers in 1835. 

The 1851 Census also includes a new family member: one-year-old George (who would become my great grandfather).

In the same Census, and in fact on the same page as the Sherritt’s names, are listed several Fees.

William Fee, farmer, age 40, his wife Elizabeth, age 30, and their children Edward, George, Margaret, Mary, and Catharine, ranging in age from 11 to 1. Walter Fee, age 24.Edward Fee, age 23, his wife, Catharine 22, and their daughter Margaret, age 1. 

Since Jane had an older brother named William and younger brothers named Edward and Walter, these might very well have been her brothers. It wasn’t at all unusual for related family members to emigrate together and settle near each other.

Thomas and Jane had one more son, born in April of 1854. He was followed, in January of 1858, by a daughter. Unfortunately, both mother and daughter died in July of that year, Jane on the 7th and her baby on the 25th.

Jane would have been 42 when she died. She had given birth to at least eight children, struggled through the Potato Famine, crossed the ocean as a refugee seeking a country where they might own their own home, homesteaded (likely living in a small log cabin), and looked after her husband and children while pregnant and after giving birth. I can’t begin to imagine how difficult that must have been.

In the 1861 Ontario Census, there are a large number of "Shirrels" (no doubt spelled the way the Census taker thought it sounded).

It appears that Thomas, now 46, may have remarried. It lists a Mary Sherritt, age 47.

The Census then lists Edward (21), John (19), Margaret (17), Jane Ann (15), William (12), and George (8). The youngest son isn't there and perhaps didn’t survive. Or he might have been given to a family member to raise after his mother's death. 

A William Sherritt, the right age to be Thomas’s brother, is also in the census.

Thomas Sherritt died in Bayfield, Ontario, on September 20, 1875 at the age of 62.

Two years earlier, on September 3, 1873, George Sherritt, the youngest living child of Thomas and Jane, and the first of their family to be born in Canada, married Sarah Jane Baird. 

To Be Continued...

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post LoveChild 14: Our Sherritt / Baird Heritage Pt. 1 appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

Breast Cancer: A Caregiver’s Perspective

by Les Lindquist

When N. J. started her cancer treatments in December of 2018, several people told us to expect “chemo brain”—a common side effect of chemotherapy treatments where the victim—oops, I mean “patient”—has difficulty focusing and thinking clearly.

What neither of us expected was that something like “chemo brain” would happen to me, her caregiver.

No, this isn't us! Sadly, no pictures like this were taken in our home. 

I found that I could function well on tasks that are habitual, including talking to people. (I doubt if people I talked to realized how I was feeling.)

I managed to juggle times and locations so I could continue training four days a week for two Masters Provincial swim meets in the spring, while still being available when N. J. needed me. Since I’ve been swimming four times a week since I was in university, that was one of the things I needed to keep doing for both my physical and mental health. (Yes, I did well in both swim meets.)

I felt that I was doing a reasonable job of looking after N. J.:

I was able to do all the shopping and make good meals, adjusting for the dietary changes her side effects seemed to require.I made numerous trips to the library to pick up books and videos to keep her distracted from the pain.I took responsibility for getting the medications and even learned to give her daily injections in her stomach or thigh seven days a week for eight cycles.From early December until June, N. J. didn’t trust herself to drive, so I had to take her to all her appointments, including the 21 straight days of radiation 30 minutes away in Newmarket.I even learned to recognize that N. J.’s numerous periods of grumpiness had nothing at all to do with me, even if I was the target. And that my attempts to diffuse the grumpiness with humour didn’t always go over well (although it did help ME!) :)

But when it came to some of the other things that I wanted (needed) to do—things that required what I consider my strong points: creativity, problem solving, persistence—I found myself coming short.

I had a long list of items that I really wanted to do, but I couldn’t get anywhere with them because, honestly, I just didn’t care enough.

The apathy I felt toward those things was really disturbing. I didn’t feel sad, or gloomy. I. Just. Didn’t. Care.

For example, there was a point in the spring when I had a letter that I should have written and sent two weeks earlier. But it wasn’t ready and I didn’t care. Well, I guess I did care intellectually, but not enough to actually focus on finishing the letter and sending it.

I’d sit down to work on it and be immediately distracted, and end up doing something mindless—reading, watching a movie, watching sports on TV, playing Wordscape, etc. I called it being distracted. And that was clearly a symptom. But it was more than that.

One day, I started thinking I should invite some of our grandsons over for a play day—how many grandparents have a drum set and a Lego room in their basement? But I had no energy to even set something up, and, although I love spending time with my grandkids, I didn’t care.

That was the moment when I realized what was happening.

Before I left IBM in the spring of 2009, I’d gone through a long, difficult time at work, mostly due to ongoing conflict with my boss because of tasks that didn’t fit my skills.

Unfortunately, it led to my neglecting my job.

Then, one Tuesday in January of 2009, I heard Clara Hughes (winner of multiple Olympic medals) talking about her experience with depression on Bell Let’s Talk Day (a national awareness day for mental health).

Clara started listing some of the symptoms of depression that she had experienced and I sat there going, “Got it. Got it. Got it….”

Until that moment, I’d believed depression was about feeling sad and sorry for yourself, and that wasn’t the case for me. I was frustrated and somewhat angry, but not sad. It was an eye opener to realize that I was experiencing depression.

I talked to our family doctor and he explained that I could get counselling or medicines to address it, but I found that, for me, just naming it was enough for me to deal with it.

I did some research on depression and one article hit home for me. The author said depression can be related to medical or psychological reasons, but sometimes it is just a kick in the pants to get out of a situation you shouldn’t be in. That was certainly the case for me at work.

I’m not sure how that advice fits the recent cancer situation, other than living with a cancer patient was definitely not a situation I wanted to be in, but since neither of us had any choice in the matter, we just had to get through it.

Anyway, because of that earlier experience, I was able to relax and accept what was happening to me this time—to realize that it wasn’t the time to do other things, and to just focus on what mattered—N. J.’s health.

Now, I wonder if perhaps the apathy I felt, rather than being a mental health problem, was actually a mental health solution—a coping mechanism. If I’d tried to do everything AND be a caregiver, I would probably have self-destructed.

What I needed to do was talk about it and set expectations with the people who normally counted on me. Thank goodness, “My wife has cancer!” gets pretty universal understanding. I stopped feeling guilty about using that excuse to explain my neglect of other things.

As I think about it today, I can see that there was a sense of internal prioritizing going on, maybe subconsciously.

Perhaps it was a way for my body/spirit to keep me from being overwhelmed by the emotions involved with having my partner go through such trauma. I was able to ignore things that weren’t actual emergencies without the feeling of responsibility (guilt?) that I would normally feel.

A Sidenote:

A good friend of mine died in his sleep two years ago. Although he was in his 80s, he was seemingly in good health, and his death was a great shock to his friends and family. I’d had coffee with him the day before he died and everything seemed fine.

His wife had had Alzheimer’s for a number of years, and even though he'd hired a caregiver for her, and the caregiver stayed on after he eventually had to put his wife into a nursing home, he still spent most of his time sitting with his wife in the home. 

Just last week, I was talking to my friend's daughter-in-law, and she told me that she felt he had died from "caregiver burnout." I can see that possibility, especially since there was no hope for his wife's recovery. 

Fortunately for us, there is light at the end of the tunnel. The side effects from the surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation have greatly lessened and N. J. seems to be returning to her usual self.

This picture of a plant from our family room illustrates what the last year has been like. 

The dead leaves remind me of the areas of neglect that have been part of our lives for the past year.

But the green leaves demonstrate that there is still beauty and growth in our lives.

Now, our challenge is to trim the “dead leaves” from our lives and nurture the green ones.

My depression/apathy of the past year is pretty much over. 

I’ve started to address some of the things that I had ignored for so long.

But I am going to miss having a good excuse for avoiding things I really don’t want to do. :)

Knowing what I know now, if I were to give advice to others who find themselves in a similar situation, I would say:

Set your own expectations that you won’t be able to handle everything.Talk with your family and/or co-workers so they can set their expectations of you accordingly.Recognize (and perhaps even embrace) the apathy that you will experience with respect to nonessentials.Get help for the necessary things that your partner used to do or that you can normally handle by yourself. Preferably set up the help before you feel you need it because once you really need it, you may not care and it will be neglected. (e.g. Find someone to come over and water the plants.)Recognize the helplessness you will feel about the patient—the one thing you will still actually care about—and just be there for them. Accept that you can’t solve their problems (the side effects of the treatment) and try to keep a positive attitude.Don’t be afraid to let people know what’s going on. It's not a sign of weakness to ask for help. Give those who would pray for you specific things to pray about.

In case you were worried, the dead leaves are gone and N. J. has watered the plant a few times.

Click here to see N. J.'s posts about her breast cancer. 

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My One-Year Breast Cancer Anniversary

Me in the Maritimes September, 2018.

One year ago today, Les and I were driving a sturdy rental car through a barren stretch on the north shore of Newfoundland when my cell phone rang.

First, I was surprised that there was any cell coverage—for much of this trip there wasn't.

Second, since I rarely give out my number, I was curious to know who was calling.

Then I remembered. Today was the day the surgeon had told me he’d call to let me know the result of the biopsy I’d had a few days before we left home.

We spoke briefly, partly because I was afraid we’d lose the connection. He was actually from Newfoundland, so he understood.

All he said was that I’d be having surgery when I got home.

I asked if it was okay to wait until then and he said it was. My being away wouldn't alter the timing.

Just three days before, Les and I had begun a three-week holiday in Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. It was to be a surreal trip.

To read my blog with more details, go here.

So here I am, exactly one year later, after having had not only a lumpectomy and the removal of two lymph nodes, but also eight rounds of chemotherapy, 21 days of radiation, and a wide variety of side effects. 

I’m slowly getting back to feeling like what I call “normal" me. 

But the question is, “What is ‘normal’ me?” Is it going back to being the person I was a year ago before the cancer diagnosis? Or has having cancer and all the related treatments and side effects this past year created a new “normal” me?

Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that out. 

For now, I’ll just give you an update on where I think I am today.

Two months ago, shortly after I finished the radiation, I wrote a post about my summer priorities. (If you missed it, go here .)

T his is how I did (or didn't, as the case may be).

#Top Priority (Not an option): Walking (a lot) and doing the exercises my physiotherapist gives me.

> I’ve been walking a fair bit since January. Some days/weeks are worse than others, when I have zero energy, but most weeks I manage at least 5 or 6 days when I walk.

My goal this spring and summer has been to get at least 35 minutes of active Nordic pole walking (my exercise of choice) at least 6 days most weeks. Which works out to 2 or three 10-20-minute walks around my neighbourhood. I started by aiming at 5,000 steps and slowly worked up to 7,000. Having a Fitbit helps.

> I’ve tried to do the exercises from my physiotherapist every day, although now and then I miss a day.

>She also has me putting Castor oil and heat on the areas where there’s still inflammation from the surgery and radiation. The whole process usually takes up to an hour or more, and ideally I do it all twice a day. Some days I do the heat longer, for up to an hour. 

The more or less optional goals were:

1. Spend some quality time with family members who have barely seen me for the last eight months.

What happened?

Well, I saw all of my sons and our grandkids at least once this summer. Some of them several times. Missed seeing one daughter-in-law and their co-housing partner, but got a tour of their remodelled house, so that was good. I would have liked to spend more time with them all, but I just didn’t have enough energy. 

Les saw the grandkids more often because he helps drive, etc. when there are scheduling conflicts.

2. Go through our stuff in order to get rid of things we no longer need. (We'd originally planned to do this last fall and winter.)

What happened?

Okay, forget that. Other than getting out summer clothes and so forth, and maybe putting aside a few things I no longer need… Did. Not. Happen.

3. Do some writing. That included a few more cancer posts, restarting my weekly memoir posts, perhaps a few other posts about random things I’ve thought about over the past months, and maybe a few short stories.

What happened?

Sigh. During August and September, I’ve been posting some of my writing workshop materials for a Facebook group while my friend who runs it has been off the grid for a while, but that’s just about all I’ve accomplished. 

So I'm taking stock again and coming up with new priorities.

This is me today, September 19, 2019

Health stuff still comes first:

Basically, although I have some days where I do feel almost like my old self, I know that one or a few good days will be followed by a few where I have zero energy.

Walking and physio exercises are top priority (not an option!) (I plan to write a blog about this.)

My hair (the loss of which was the most obvious side effect) is roughly an inch and a half long now. Not quite long enough to style yet. 

Most of the side effects have gone, but there are a few that still flare up once in a while. (Yes, I plan to write a blog about the side effects, too.) 

And then there are the other health-related issues.

> Like needing a root canal in May and then another one in August because of ongoing soreness (not quite pain, but…). Yes, chemo can affect teeth, too. Not sure I'm done with them yet.

> I actually had to have a tooth removed in early September of last year, and because of the chemo and so forth I wasn’t able to get the implant done. I see the specialist next week and will hopefully be able to get that taken care of soon.

> In early October, I have another mammogram scheduled, plus a visit with my surgeon few days later.

> I also really need to get my eyes checked, and I had to wait for that as well. My appointment is in mid-October.

> On October 22nd, I see my medical oncologist again on so he can check how I’m doing. I’m also scheduled to be injected with something called zoledronic acid that day. It helps prevent bone cancer and I think it also helps with osteoporosis (one of the possible side effects from the drugs I took earlier). Of course, it has a number of potential effects. :)

As for the other things, I have a new To Do list for the next few months.

1. We’re doing a few things around the house, and have designated one day a week for repairs and getting rid of things. 

So far, Les has done some yard maintenance, we have new garage doors coming soon, and we’re in the process of choosing a new colour for our front and back doors. My first priority is in my office. I have a lot of memorabilia for LoveChild that needs to be sorted, photographed, etc.We started by taking out the white folding table we were using to hold things and bringing down a custom storage and counter unit Les made for me years ago. He took off part of it and now it fits perfectly under the TV screen. It was made to hold the plastic bins that hold materials for my various writing projects.

2. I recently went through my unfinished writing projects and used a chart I created years ago to identify the ones I most want to do. 

Unfortunately, we have to put on indefinite hold the Hot Apple Cider Book on adoption that we had originally planned to publish this month. There’s no way I can commit to something involving other people and firm deadlines at this time. I still have no idea how much energy I’ll have on any given day. Keep blogging my LoveChild memoir. Goal number one is finishing the post that I’ve been working on since last year at this time! Seriously, I’ve probably spent a month’s worth of writing time on this one blog post! I keep getting lost on rabbit trails, and then not looking at it for a few months, and having to go over all the same things, and so forth. I’m determined to finish it by next week.Finish editing (rewriting?) a short mystery story I wrote a couple of years ago, and get it out as an ebook. This is something I’ll enjoy doing. Been finding an hour here and there to work on it. Blog a bit more about my experiences this past year. Chemo side effects, radiation, my oncologist’s advice, my physiotherapist’s advice, and so forth.Post some of my previously published columns, articles, and so forth on the church and related topics. And perhaps add some new ones.Write the sequel to my New Adult novel, In Time of Trouble, which I started ages ago and now feel I could maybe write. I’ve recently realized I have a TON of thoughts on writing, and I have no idea if I’ll do any more in-person workshops (although I do enjoy them). But maybe I could put up some of my writing courses on my Write with Excellence website (which I see needs a bit of sprucing up!) I also want to make sure anything I’ve written that I feel is worthwhile is available in some format.

3. I also realize that the cancer could easily come back, and because it’s triple negative, it might come back sooner rather than later.

So, when I have the energy, I plan to take care of anything that only I can do. For example, identify for our children those things we own that might have value either in monetary worth or in historical/family significance.

One other thing I should mention.

Not so much recently, but for the seven months from the start of the chemo to a month after the end of the radiation, I had a lot of nights when I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes I just read mysteries, usually on my Kindle, until I got sleepy enough to sleep again. But other times that wasn’t enough, and I found myself checking Facebook and Twitter.

A lot of what I saw, especially on Twitter, was about issues that (whether they should be or not) are political. Like minimum wages, money for children with autism, gun violence, immigrants seeking asylum, how best to end abortion, the #MeToo and other movements, and so forth.

As I followed the various threads, both Republican and Democrat, Liberal and Conservative, I realized something. A lot of people follow only one side of the debate and either ignore or disparage the other side without necessarily fact-checking.

Maybe because I’m a writer who likes to be as accurate as possible, I tend to read both sides; look for facts; and not only opinions; and evaluate what I see to decide what rings true to me. I then do my best to amplify what I believe is right. For many months, reposting or liking posts has been all I felt I could do.

Because of that, I’ve honestly found it difficult to focus on going back to just writing my stories and ignoring what’s happening in the world around me. I feel like I've been a Watcher, observing, albeit from a distance, so much cruelty, racism, sexism, propaganda, and lying that I can't just go back to my "normal" life and pretend it's not there.  

I follow some writers’ and other public figures’ social media and it’s all about their writing, acting, songs, games, and so forth. I understand why they do it, but I don’t think I can. So I’m going to try to find a balance.

I need to create a few posts about what I've observed during the last year while aIl I could do was read and listen. Some of the things I need to say might not be quite what everyone who knows me might expect. They might even annoy some people. But I need to do more than observe.

Anyway, for now, I’m enjoying the sunshine, our backyard garden (which still looks amazing), and feeling a little more like “normal” me.

Yes, we have some annuals, but mostly I love perennials so much!

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10 Months After Learning I Might Have Cancer, I’m Almost Back to Being “Normal Me”

This is going to be short, but I wanted to let everyone know that I'm more or less back after an unexpected hiatus due to a routine mammogram that found a small breast tumour that turned out to be cancer.

Nearly 10 months ago, my life went on an unexpected detour...

After the phone call indicating a possible problem, I found myself thrust out of my normal routine into a new, unexpected life. It felt a bit like when you’re driving along the highway and suddenly you discover the road up ahead is under construction and you have to take back roads, which means you're going to make you miss your appointments, and you might even get lost and never reach your destination.  

To summarize, on September 19th, 2018, I found out I had breast cancer.

This was me two days after Christmas

I had surgery on October 18th, started chemotherapy on December 6th, had my last (8th) chemo treatment on March 22th, 2019, started radiation on April 25th, and had my last (21st) radiation treatment on May 24th.

Just before my last radiation, I was told the side effects would get worse for 10 to 14 days. (Ouch!) Fortunately, the getting worse for me was only about five days, but I’m still waiting for all the side effects (some from the radiation and some from the chemo) to end. 

The worst side effect, which I'll likely have for a while yet, is fatigue.

 Since the first chemo treatment in December, I’ve had virtually no energy to do anything other than read (mostly books but also social media) and watch some TV. No writing of any kind after the last blog about the chemo.

I've also had barely any contact with anyone but Les. It was important to avoid germs!

Les can tell you my fatigue made me somewhat irritable, in that I often found myself saying things like, “I said it once, why do you need it repeated?”

My thinking hasn’t been affected: I'd think of things to do or write, but then I'd shrug. I had no energy. back in December, I asked Les to buy a few cards so I could thank some people who'd encouraged me. The cards are still sitting on my desk. Even writing a simple email seemed like way too much work. And that's assuming I could have used my hands to type! Unfortunately, the second worst side effect from the chemo was tingling and pain in my hands and feet, followed by ongoing issues with my nails. Nothing horrible, but really annoying.

After the first few months, I did try hard to get at least 35 minutes of walking in each day (mostly in our family room). But that was it. 

If you want more details, you can follow my cancer journey here. I stopped writing after my second chemotherapy, but I will be posting more details in the next two months.

By the way, my first cancer post, Mammograms, Breast Cancer, and Me recently won The 2019 Word Award for an individual blog post!

This week, I've felt more like "Normal Me" than at any time since the chemo started, so that’s a good thing!

But I don’t want to push it. 

Les and I just did some goal planning this week and we can up with three primary goals for the summer. (This is aside from some health goals, which for me include walking a LOT and doing exercises the exercises my physiotherapist gives me.) 

Our summer goals : 

1. Spend some quality time with family members who have barely seen me for the last eight months.

No, I can't tell yet if it will be curly or straight. 

2. Go through our stuff in order to get rid of things we no longer need.  (We’d planned to do this last fall and winter.) 

3. Do some writing. For me, that includes a few more cancer posts, restarting my weekly memoir posts, perhaps a few other posts about random things I’ve thought about over the past months, and maybe a few short stories.

Neither of us is getting into anything major right now.  Although I had the cancer and all that entailed, Les has been my 24/7 caregiver while also trying to keep up with his normal responsibilities and activities, so he needs some downtime as much as, or probably more than, I do. 

In late August, we'll do some planning for the fall and winter.

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Growing Up Adopted: An Interview with N. J. Lindquist

Last October, my daughter-in-law Elle Lindquist interviewed me about growing up as an adopted child in the years before open adoption and how that has impacted my life—which is related to the memoir I'm blogging here. 

This interview was planned in the summer before I had the routine mammogram that indicated I might have cancer. And I have to say that the interview itself felt pretty surreal. We did it a few days before I had breast cancer surgery, while I was in the midst of getting ready for all that might entail. (And while I still had hair!) So it was very much, "Forget about the upcoming cancer surgery, get dressed up, put on some makeup, and focus on Elle's questions about your life before cancer for a few hours." 

I think Elle did a great job considering this was her first time doing a major 1:1 interview. Especially since she'd rented expensive equipment and one of the cameras kept shutting itself off! If I'd been doing the interview, I'd have been flustered, but Elle kept her cool and I just sat back and relied on her to make it work. And she did!

We talked for well over an hour and Elle managed to get it down to a little over 40 minutes, so grab a cup of tea or some chocolate before you sit down to watch the interview. I hope you enjoy it!

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Chemotherapy, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 5

If you missed part 1 of this story, you can read it here.

Part 2 of this story.

Part 3 of this story.

Part 4 of this story.

"The goal is to live a full, productive life even with all that ambiguity. No matter what happens, whether the cancer never flares up again or whether you die, the important thing is that the days that you have had you will have lived."

Gilda Radner

Two Weeks to Decide and Prepare!

After meeting with the surgeon on October 10th, I'd had a week to prepare for surgery. Now, after meeting with the medical oncologist on Tuesday, Nov. 20th, I had two weeks to decide on and prepare for several months of chemotherapy. 

The first thing I did after leaving the oncologist's office was to go to the hospital lab so they could get some blood for a bunch of blood tests. After that, I walked home. (Yes, living within a 10-minute walk of the hospital makes everything so much easier!)

I'd barely shut the front door when the receptionist from my oncologist's office called me with appointment times for more tests he wanted done before our next meeting.

I realized that if I went ahead with the chemotherapy, I'd have to plan the next two weeks carefully in order to take care of all the things I needed to do before everything changed.

I printed out a calendar for the next weeks and began making a to do list and filling in the slots for each day with scheduled appointments and priorities for days when I had some free time.

Tues., Nov. 20Prayer

I tend to believe prayer makes a big difference. (Follow my LoveChild memoir if you want to know why.) So that evening I sent a note to a writers' prayer team I created roughly 19 years ago, and have been part of ever since. I see it as one of my lifelines. This is an excerpt from my email to them.

The oncologist recommended chemotherapy because it goes to the whole body in case there are some miniscule cancer cells roaming around. The radiation focuses only on where the lump actually was to get any cells that might still be there. I see him again in two weeks—December 5—so I have until then to decide whether or not to do the chemo. 

I can’t say I’m delighted—there are lots of side effects, like nausea, hair loss, fatigue, etc. Ick! But I’ll likely go ahead with it. He was booking it today for right after he sees me, so I can cancel it if I decide against it.

If anyone want to share their experiences—I’m all ears.

We don't normally encourage people to respond with advice or suggestions, but I knew that a number of members of this group had already faced cancer and chemotherapy, so I really did want to hear any suggestions they had.

I wasn't disappointed. Several people sent me private emails based on their own or a family member's experiences, and all of them encouraged me to go ahead with the chemotherapy.

After reading their comments and a few others from family members and friends, I felt better about the whole thing. Yes, I could get through this. And yes, it would presumably be worth it in the long run.

Wed., Nov. 21 Flu Shot

When I'd seen the nurse practitioner the week before (about the rash on my face), we'd talked about the breast cancer and she'd urged me to get a flu shot. At the time, we were thinking about radiation, but her argument was that because I'd be hanging out at hospitals where there were sick people, I should do what I could to keep from getting sick. Now that I was looking at up to four months of chemotherapy as well as a month of radiation, I needed that flu shot even more.

I'd never had one, partly because I wasn't sure they were effective and partly because my mother had had several and they always made her sick. However, I decided to go ahead. Fortunately, I was able to get an appointment for the next day. I also persuaded Les to get the flu shot because I didn't want him getting sick and passing the germs onto me.

I was more or less prepared to feel sick for a day or two afterwards, but I had no side effects whatsoever. Les had a sore arm, but it was likely because he did his usual swimming workout the day after. He probably should have waited a day or two before doing all that butterfly, breast stroke, back stroke, and front crawl.  

Chemotherapy Change of Plan

When I'd spoken with my oncologist the day before, he'd been planning on four chemotherapy treatments involving two different drugs and spaced three weeks apart. So a total of 12 weeks, three months.

But in the afternoon, I got a call from him. He'd been doing some more thinking about the triple negative aspect, and had come up with an alternative treatment. He'd also discussed it with a colleague, who agreed it might be a better option. It would involve three different drugs, two for four treatments and the third for four more treatments. They'd be spaced two weeks apart, so 16 weeks or four months total.

But before deciding which plan to use, he needed to have me do another test—an echocardiogram. And it was already booked it for Friday. 

Thurs., Nov. 22 A Little of This, a Little of That...

I spent most of the day doing research on what happens when you have chemotherapy and how to prepare for it. I learned a lot about what side effects to expect, what to have on hand, and what to eat or not eat. More lists.

The rest of the time was spent making lists of things I HAD to finish up in the next two weeks. 

Since September, I'd been blogging my memoir once a week. I really wanted to keep that up. But the current blogs involved doing a fair bit of research on family history, and involved looking at and formatting photos, reading obituaries and other historical notes, and visiting Ancestry.com. I hoped I could power through that part and get to the easier "memory" parts.

I also had other things to do: two newsletters I was supposed to be sending out monthly; five websites to keep updated; ongoing book marketing, especially with Christmas coming up, and so forth. I was so happy I'd already found someone to take care of some of my social media for November and December!

But then there was the new book I was supposed to be editing by March!!!! 

Finally, we were in the midst of downsizing and a bedroom changeover. As in, we still had our old furniture in the bedroom as well as some other things in the middle of the living room. Plus we still needed to buy a few more things. 

I try not to shop on weekends, and I already had a lot of appointments booked, so I decided the shopping needed to be done right away. 

Shopping

We needed a new comforter, a bed skirt, curtains, and a few other things for our bedroom. 

I got a hanging shelf thing for the bedroom at Bed, Bath, and beyond. And some gluten-free crackers at Whole Foods.  

After looking at various places for a comforter, I asked Les what colour he'd most like in the bedroom.

He said "blue." And he didn't want anything overly feminine, whatever that means. Frilly, maybe?

I finally found a comforter with blue in it but also an airy feeling at the Bay. And Les actually liked it. Plus it was half price. So were the blue sheets I found to go with it. And not one but two covers for my body pillow—one of them flannel! So soft and warm. (Les hates warm so no way we are getting flannel sheets!) 

We also found a weird picture at Winners. Not sure it will go in the bedroom, but it reminded of some trees we saw in Newfoundland, and we both liked it, so... 

Still needed a bed skirt and curtains. And a curtain rod. Unfortunately, no luck that day. 

Fri., Nov. 23 New Note to Prayer Team

After doing some research and hearing from some people, I’ve decided to go ahead with the chemotherapy, which may end up being longer than the one he originally suggested. We’ll talk on Dec. 5 after all the other test results are in.

Also, the rash on my face seemed to have cleared up so I stopped the creams for it yesterday and this morning the area around my lips is red again! I do have a refill so I guess we’ll do another 7 days.

I also booked a physio appointment for today since my lower back is a smidge painful and I figured I’d better see her now than wait.

We’re still in the midst of trying to minimize and so forth our furniture, etc. and doing a bedroom changeover. Which I’d like to finish since I think I’ll be spending more time there than usual!

And we decided to continue with the new HAC book based on the belief that I’d only have radiation, not chemo, so we have to work with that. It won’t be as big a book, and I think editing will be easier than my trying to write, but it will be tricksy.

I’ve also committed to blogging my memoir once a week, and I really want to continue that.

Please pray that I can figure out what I HAVE to do (and how) and what I can postpone or forget about entirely.

Memoir Blog

My blog was due to go out on the following Tuesday morning, so I spent the morning and later part of the day working on it. The current one was about my mother's growing up years, and I had to get a few pictures ready, plus try to correlate some of the details I'd discovered from other sources with things Mom had told me. There are still a few gaps or puzzling things, the reasons for which I can only guess at.

The blog posts for the first two weeks in December were supposed to be about my father's ancestry, so a lot of research was still needed. Because I expected to be kind of out of it for a week or so after the chemo, I wanted to use every spare minute I had before December 6th on getting at least two more blog posts ready. 

12:30 - Echocardiogram

If you haven't had one of these, they're used to check your heart for possible problems. I'd had one some years before when I had some pain around my heart and high blood pressure. Everything turned out okay. 

This time, the oncologist wanted to make sure I had no heart problems before he gave me the new chemotherapy drugs he wanted to use.

Of course, the whole thing, from registering at the hospital 15 minutes early to getting dressed and leaving, took way longer than you'd expect.

Plus, for some reason, the woman who registered me decided I needed assistance because I asked where I should go. Instead of telling me which waiting room to go to, she called for a volunteer (a high school student) to walk me to the waiting room. Which meant I wasn't able to hit the bathroom I normally use and I had to make small talk as we walked. I advised her to get routine mammograms and not put them off. 

Then I had to sit in the waiting room thinking that I needed to go to the bathroom, but not going because I was afraid that the moment I left, someone would call me. Sigh.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait too long. And when I was called, I asked if I had time to make a quick trip to the bathroom. The very nice young lady laughed and said, "Of course!" There was one in the hallway, so all was well. 

In the Echo Lab Room, I removed my top, put on a gown, and lay down on my left side. 

The technician attached several electrodes. She then placed a transducer on my chest and moved it around, aiming an ultrasound beam to the heart. She did this for maybe fifteen minutes, recording the echoes of sound waves, which the computer converted to images on a monitor. I have no idea what it showed, but presumably all was well.

more information

Shopping

We were still looking for some things. I knew the mall would be crazy, but we went back to our local mall where I found a pair of SoftMoc winter boots that fit well, slipped on and off easily, and were on sale. Since Les would just drop me off and pick me up for chemotherapy, they'd be very useful. Bonus: when I went to pay for them, I discovered I had a refund on my account for $30. So my boots cost me $49 plus tax. Nice. 

We also picked up some Lego for our oldest three grandsons on sale at Toys R Us.

Then it was back to Bed, Bath and Beyond, where we found a bedskirt. And on to Lowe's where we thought we'd found curtains, but later decided they didn't work. And then on to my physiotherapist who works in Pickering.

Physio

I hadn't seen the physiotherapist since early September, so I was overdue. My mid-back tends to get twisted from sitting at the computer. It wasn't too bad, but it was good I went to see her.

She also recommended that I use something called a "castor oil heat pack" on my surgery scars in order to prevent something called "cording."  

Then it was back home to research castor oil and work on my blogs.

Sat. Nov. 24 Odds and Ends

I worked on my blogs, updated my websites, did some things around the house, watered my plants, and basically kept busy all day.  

Sun. Nov. 25 Kids Church Takeover

Because four of our grandsons (and their parents) were involved in a "Kids Takeover" at their church, we went to see them. Impressive. The next generation is more than capable. Yes, we have video and pictures. Let's just say they're following in their dad's and mother's footsteps.  

Curtains!

Because we were a block away from a Bouclair store (our last hope for finding blackout curtains for our bedroom), we stopped in there after church and... Success! We found exactly what we wanted.

We put together the new headboard for the bed and did some other household things. 

Mon., Nov. 26 Blogs

I spent most of the day working on the blog about my mother and the one about my dad's father's family.

Plus I realized I needed to write another "cancer" blog update. Trust me, writing a blog post is way easier than updating people individually.

Tues., Nov. 27 Shingles Vaccination

I'd been thinking about getting this for a while, but especially now that they seem to have developed a fairly effective vaccine. When I had the flu shot, I asked the nurse what she thought and she recommended I get it. So I'd made an appointment for the vaccine, spacing it out a bit from the flu shot (which she also recommended). 

I had it at 10:40 that morning.

Good news: There were no side effects! 

Looking After Our Youngest Grandkids

It's quite probable that our son Daniel asked Les if we could look after their two little boys several weeks before this morning. But, somehow, that request got filed away without making any dent on Les's consciousness. Or getting marked on our calendar. 

So it was a bit of a surprise when Daniel phoned shortly after I got home from getting the vaccine to say we could pick up the younger boy after his "running class" at the community centre. (The child's name for a play group he loves.) And then there were more details about the older boy and the dog and dropping off the minivan for us to use and so forth. It eventually sank in that the boys' parents were going away for two days and one night, and we were in charge. 

After my research on chemotherapy, I was very conscious that avoiding germs was something I wanted to do. But most germs I get seem to come from very small people. Hmm. 

As it turned out, they were a bit later than anticipated and Daniel ended up dropping off both the youngest boy and the minivan.

Les had gone out to pick up some groceries, so I took the keys and helped the little one remove his boots and jacket and turned him loose to play in the family room. Didn't really touch him.

Les came back twenty minutes later and made a smoothie for lunch. Then he picked up the little one and said, "I think he's got a fever."

I ran upstairs. 

Les took the little one to his home for his afternoon nap.

The long and short is that Les spent most of the two days and one night at our son's house. I picked up the older boy after kindergarten both days and walked home with him, and picked him from their house and took him to the school in the morning, but otherwise I stayed clear in the hope that I wouldn't catch anything. I also did a very short dog walk in there.

The little one was fine. I mean, yes, he had a fever and a cold, but he didn't act like a sick child might. He rarely does.

I hoped that whatever he had wasn't contagious, or wouldn't come near me, or would be minor if it did.

When not busy with other things, I kept working on my blog posts.

Wed., Nov. 28 Furniture Pickup

After a few deadends, Les had found some people to take our bedroom furniture and a few other large items we no longer needed. So Les had to bring the little sick boy with him to our house so he'd be there when the people came with their truck. 

Les settled him in our guest room for his nap, and I hid in my office and kept working on blogs, etc.

Thurs., Nov. 29 Radiology Oncologist

Les went with me to meet with the Radiology Oncologist at nine in the morning. The radiation unit is actually located in Newmarket, but my oncologist comes to Markham one or two days a month. 

Again, she seemed very nice. She spent quite a bit of time outlining why I'd want radiation after the chemotherapy (to focus on the specific area where the cancer was), but she also talked about cancer prevention and so forth. Because it's important, I'm going to post something just on that at some point.

While I am scheduled for radiation after the chemo, I'm still not 100% certain I'm going to do it. Seems to me that if the chemo is effective all over my body, it ought to be effective in the original cancer area, too. Especially since there was no spread out from the small mass.   

House Stuff

Daniel helped Les move a couple of furniture items to the garage, ready for him to leave out on a nice day. People in our area often leave out useful things and others pick them up. 

Because the bedroom walls have never been painted (think 18 1/2-year-old white builder's paint), we decided it made sense to paint the room before moving a mirror, installing a wall-mounted TV, etc. So we started looking at paint chips. 

Fri., Nov. 30 CT Scan and Bone Scan

I'd been told not to eat anything after midnight Thursday, and to be at the hospital by 7:00 Friday morning. 

Despite my efforts to avoid her, I ended up registering with the same lady who'd decided I needed someone to accompany me to the waiting room last time. This time I refused her offer of a guide and was able to get to the bathroom I prefer and then find the waiting area without difficulty. :) 

The purpose of the two scans was to make sure there was no sign of cancer in my bones or in my organs. 

Basically, I was there more than three hours, drank a bunch of stuff that tasted decent, had some dye injected into my arm, and lay in two machines in different areas of the nuclear medicine section while two different people—one female, one make, used machines to scan me. 

"A computerized tomography (CT) scan combines a series of X-ray images taken from different angles around your body and uses computer processing to create cross-sectional images (slices) of the bones, blood vessels and soft tissues inside your body." Read more at https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/ct-scan/about/pac-20393675

"A bone scan is a nuclear medicine imaging test that uses bone-seeking radioactive materials or tracers (radiopharmaceuticals) and a computer to create an image of the skeleton (bones). A bone scan looks at the bones to see if there are any abnormalities, such as a fracture, tumour or infection."

Read more at http://www.cancer.ca/en/cancer-information/diagnosis-and-treatment/tests-and-procedures/bone-scan/

Blood Test

I also had to go for yet another blood test before walking home. 

Cancer Clinic

In the afternoon, Les and I both went to the hospital for what was called a "Cancer Clinic." It was basically an information time with maybe 15 people, presumably cancer patients and spouses or friends. There was a videotaped lecture by a nurse, and afterwards the same nurse answered any questions we might have.

Most of the information was already in the booklets I'd been given when the cancer was first diagnosed, but it was good to go over it. I would have liked a bit more practical information, like what we should expect when we came for the chemotherapy, and what we should bring with us, but I was okay with what I'd found on the internet. 

Sat., Dec. 1  and Sun., Dec. 2Reading and Evaluating Stories

We'd already read some of the stories, but we knew we had to finish up, so we spent most of Saturday and part of Sunday finishing reading and evaluating the entries for our new Hot Apple Cider Book. Les and I read all of them them separately, and gave them scores. 

A - perfect for the book and requires little editing B - great fit thematically but requires editing C - could be a good fit with a fair bit of editing D - could be good but would require a lot of work E - not really a fit for our theme 

Then we began part 2: comparing our evaluations and deciding on a final category. Unfortunately, we didn't get very far with that. 

Mon., Dec. 3 Memoir Blog

I managed to finishing up my blog for the next day on my dad's father's family. I also did some work on the next planned blog about my dad's mother's family. 

Tues., Dec. 4 Monthly Newsletters

I've been trying (and mostly failing) to get a couple of monthly newsletters out. I decided I had to get at least one of them out before Christmas, so I spent Tuesday working on that, and sent it out. 

Wed., Dec. 5 Les Starts Coughing

Early Wednesday morning, Les started coughing. He then told me he hadn't been feeling well since Monday, and had been trying to fight it. We both realized he'd likely picked up unwanted germs from our adorable youngest grandson. (Not for the first time!)

All I could do was stay as far from Les as I could, and hope I hadn't already picked up germs from either him or our grandson.

Les started sleeping in our guest room to keep his germs away.

Second Medical Oncologist Meeting

I went to the hospital for a blood test first because the oncologist always checks to make sure your white blood cell count is high enough before okaying chemotherapy. So Les dropped me off and picked me up.

An hour later, we went back for the appointment with the oncologist in his office, which is in a medical building next door to the hospital.   

This time Les went with me. When I met with him two weeks before, the oncologist had thrown out a lot of numbers and other facts. Partly because I rarely remember numbers, and partly because at the time I was kind of in shock that he was even recommending chemo in the first place, I didn't remember them. I figured if Les came, the oncologist would go through the details again, and Les would likely remember. (You'd be amazed at how many numbers he can remember, even from many years ago.)

Plus, Les had some questions he wanted to ask. 

The outcome of the meeting was that all my tests showed that there was no other cancer, my heart was strong, and I was in good health. The doctor said there was no reason I shouldn't live another 20 or more years.

So we agreed to go ahead with the eight x two-week cycle of chemotherapy, and the oncologist gave me a bunch prescriptions for drugs I'd need.  

The Cancer Clinic staff had recommended using the pharmacy at the hospital because they have cancer drugs in stock, but I wasn't going to do that unless it was necessary. We'd been dealing with a small local pharmacy for 32+ years, so my first thought was to see if they could fill the five or six perscriptions I'd been given. 

We drove there straight from the hospital, and although they didn't have several of the drugs I needed, they said they would get them before they closed that might, and they'd get the one I would need on Friday by the end of Thursday. 

Then we went to pick up a few other things we needed, including a mattress pad for our Tempur-Pedic mattress (which isn't supposed to get wet), more paint chips, and a few groceries. 

Getting Ready for Chemotherapy

I'd been feeling somewhat sick to my stomach all day. Like slightly nauseous. I think it was simply anticipation of what was to come the next day when they'd be pouring dangerous liquids into me.

I had to ignore that feeling of dread and get ready. I'd found a number of sites with suggestions as to what to wear and what to take to the chemotherapy session. I needed to pack. 
​
I'd already ordered a bunch of library books to have on hand, but now I made sure I had something to read on my Kindle and charged it. Easier to take to the hospital than a book, and easier to hold. 

I charged my iPad, which I really haven't use much. (It's Les's old one, so I don't feel too guilty. I just vastly prefer my desktop.) 

I got out three travel mugs to fill with water, ginger tea, and ginger ale. 

I packed lozenges for a dry mouth, hand lotion, a box of crackers, new headphones for my iPhone, a small blanket, a comfy warm top that wouldn't interfere with the IV, warm socks, note cards and a pen in case I needed to write something down, a couple of the booklets I'd been given, Vaseline for dry lips, and some Kleenex. 

Thurs., Dec. 6 First Chemotherapy

I was scheduled to be there at 9:30, so at 8:30 I took the three different pills (technically 1 plus 3 plus 2) that I'd been told to take. They were to help with nausea and inflammation. My druggist had mentioned that one of the drugs might make me feel a bit ADHD. Before the hour was up, I felt a little spacey.

At 9:30, Les dropped me off at the Cancer Clinic and went back home. He didn't want to bring his germs into the hospital. 

After a short wait, I was taken to a small room with a comfortable recliner, a television, and places for me to hang my coot, etc.

I took off my boots and put on the comfy socks and comfy top, and unpacked my thermoses, blanket, crackers, Kindle, and iPhone and set. I put the blanket over my knees and arranged the other things on the side table to my left. 

The nurse who had done the Cancer Clinic we'd attended came in and put an IV into my left hand, with saline solution in it. Apparently she had to leave for an appointment so another nurse would look after me. 

At that point, I learned that the drugs weren't prepared until I was actually on site, so there would be a bit of a wait. 

Another nurse came and admired my blanket. She also said they had flannel sheets and did I want a warm one? I did. So the warm flannel sheet went under my blanket. I wouldn't be cold.

After a short while, the nurse returned with a large tube of bright red liquid. She was wearing a paper gown and gloves. Apparently, she didn't want any of the liquid to spill on her. And yet, she was going to put it inside me!  

This drug, DOXOrubicin, was injected through the IV, but the nurse had to sit and slowly inject it. It took maybe 20 minutes. Possibly longer. 

When that was done, the nurse set up a yellow drug, Cyclophosphamide, to drip down from a plastic bag in the usual way.

Not me! No pictures were taken that day.

At that point, she left me alone for about an hour or more, and I got out my Kindle to read. 

I kept sipping from my three drinks (ginger tea, ginger ale, and water. And I ate some of the crackers. They tasted good, but to be honest I can't even think about them or look at the package without wanting to throw up. I tossed out the rest of the package the next day. 

When the last of the second drug had gone through, the nurse came and disconnected everything. I got ready to go home and texted Les to come pick me up. (Have I mentioned how nice it is to live only a short distance from the hospital?)

Since this was all new, I'd planned to take it easy (read books) for the rest of Thursday and Friday. I had a little nausea, but not much. I'd checked on what to eat to prevent nausea, gas, and other bad things, and overall I was fine. Just a lot of tiredness.

Fri., Dec. 7 The First Needle

I had more pills to take in the morning. 

Friday afternoon, Les dropped me off at the Cancer Clinic, where a nurse injected something into my stomach that was supposed to help my white blood cells recover quickly. I watched carefully, because from now on we'd be doing this at home. One day for seven days after each treatment. My stomach was going to become a pincushion! 

Also not me. 

Sat., Dec. 8 A Quiet Day

By the afternoon, I actually felt well enough to work on the next cancer blog.

Later in the afternoon, our son Daniel, who is a veterinarian, came over and demonstrated for Les how to give me the needle. Honestly, he was better than the nurse. And his instructions were really good.  

In the evening, we watched a movie Les had picked up at the library. 

(Have I mentioned how much I love our library, which is right next to the hospital?)

Sun., Dec. 9 Another Quiet Day

I felt less well than the day before, so I decided I may have overdone it and had another really lazy day. Mostly reading.  

Mon., Dec. 10 to Thursday, Dec. 27ACH!

I woke up Monday morning with a sore throat, cough, cold, and fever. Ach!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Despite my efforts to avoid germs it was pretty clear that Les had passed on the ones he got from our grandson. I was miserable all that week. FInally went to Emerg on Saturday night when my fever, cough, and sore throat didn't seem to be going away. 

The second week was somewhat better, but when I saw my oncologist on December 19, he pushed my second chemotherapy treatment back a week and gave me antibiotics. 

Which worked out okay. I saw most of my family members but stayed far away from them at Christmas. Participated in a few things but mostly rested and read.  

Had the second chemotherapy on Dec. 27th. It was okay. No surprises. But I was still tired and  had a bit of a cough.

I now know that what Les and I had was a month-long flu.

Yes, it was just short of a month (January 6th) before I had any energy at all. Like, ANY energy. To make a list. To write a short email. Or even to care that I didn't care. Sigh. 

To Be Continued.  

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post Chemotherapy, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 5 appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

Pathology Reports, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 4

If you missed part 1 of this story, you can read it here.

Part 2 of this story.

Part 3 of this story.

"The goal is to live a full, productive life even with all that ambiguity. No matter what happens, whether the cancer never flares up again or whether you die, the important thing is that the days that you have had you will have lived."

Gilda Radner

Recovery From Breast Cancer Surgery

After the three pills they gave me after I woke up in the hospital (I beleive Tylenol 3 and two for nausea), all I took was regular Tylenol for the first two days, and nothing after that. So I didn't find it painful at all. I should mention that I have a pretty high pain tolerance. (You should see the strange looks I get when I tell people I had 4 C-sections and would have had more except my gynecologist in Mississauga—as opposed to the one in Regina—would have had a fit.)

I felt slightly nauseated for a couple of days, but took care of it by not eating much the first couple of days except chicken soup and other easy things, plus the ginger ale and Steeped tea ginger-lemon tea. 

My Scars

I had two incisions, both high on the left side. Weirdly enough, the higher, smaller one, where the lymph nodes were removed, was by far the more bothersome because it’s just under my arm pit and my arm rubs against it. Also, although I'd been careful to get some loose clothing to wear, virtually everything had underarm seams that rubbed against it, too. 

This is the scar where the lump was. Yes, there were stiches. It was okay under sports bras that covered it completely.  

This was the smaller scar where the lymph nodes were taken out.  It was the one right under my arm pit that got bothered by seams.

I managed with what I had for a couple of days, but then I went to Walmart and found several tops in athletic wear that worked.

I also checked Winners and found a perfect warm, fuzzy, soft top to wear over the sleeveless ones. So I was set for the next couple of weeks. 

Two of the athletic wear tops I got. I also got a couple similar to these for sleeping in. 

So soft and so warm!!!! 

What I Did

For the first few days, I basically read and slept and ate.

I was really glad I'd planned ahead because that made everything easier. I had eight Vera Stanhope mysteries (by Ann Cleeves) that I'd ordered ahead of time from our local library.  (Note: I love our library. They have multiple branches and move books back and forth as requested so I can just pick up any of the books at our local branch.)

Les and I also watched an episode from the Shetland mystery series (adapted from other books by Ann Cleeves) each evening. 

I should mention that Les (my husband) has done virtually all the cooking for roughly 18 years. I think it's fair because I did the majority of the cooking for the first 28. Besides, our current kitchen can only handle one person working in it at a time. Not joking, either! You can't move without getting in the other person's way. 

But the bigger problem is that Les's and my styles of cooking are very different. I planned ahead and created menus and grocery lists, organizing and freezing meals or part of meals for up to six weeks at a time. His system is a combination of buying whatever's on sale and looking into the refrigerator to see what's there that he can use. Inexplicably, while my system worked well when we had our sons at home, his system works well for the two of us. 

(Digression to explain why I didn't feel bad that Les was cooking and why we continued to have great meals.) 

Anyway, the surprising thing was the fatigue. As in no mental energy even just to write a quick update. Since the surgery was on Thursday, Oct. 18, I thought that if I rested Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I’d be up to doing some work on Monday, but I had no brain or energy to do anything except read.

Then, on Tuesday, I woke up feeling sick to my stomach.

Wednesday I felt so tired, and so... I did a lot of reading. Not that I mind that. :)

Since my appointment with the surgeon was for two weeks after the surgery, I wouldn't know how things went until then. So I basically rested and waited.

My Appointment with the Surgeon

13 days after the surgery, I went to see the surgeon so he could make sure the incisions were okay, but, more important, give me the results of the pathology. 

Everything was good. The incisions were healing, and there had been no sign of cancer in the lymph nodes he removed or in the tissue around the lump. He thought I'd like need about a month (5 days a week) of radiation and maybe a pill. He'd have the Breast Cancer people make an appointment for me to see a medical oncologist who would make the final call on what'd need. And he'd see me again in February. 

And that was it. 

On that basis, we went ahead with closing the deadline for the new Hot Apple Cider Books anthology were were planning to publish for next fall. A month of radiation shouldn't affect our time line. 

More Waiting

After a few days, someone from the Breast Cancer Clinic called to say I had an appointment with an oncologist on Nov. 20th.

I worked on things I needed to get done. Working on the weekly blogs for my memoir, which took a ridiculous amount of research on Ancestry.ca and other places; writing the first draft of a book review of a mystery for Faith Today; and continuing our attempts to downsize.

Among other things we got rid of our heavy bedroom furniture--a dresser, chest of drawers, two large night tables and a headboard that all had edges that attracted dust like crazy! They actually originally belonged to my parents, and we'd had them for 26 years!

To replace them. we bought a few more hanging shelves for our closet, plus two smaller Hemnes white night tables and an open wardrobe from IKEA for me. Then we found a plain white headboard at Home Depot. We also got new lamps and the wonderful little corkboard thingie that holds glasses and other small essentials at IKEA. 

Yes, our cords have to be fixed yet! 

Our old comforter, which I still love, has been getting a bit threadbare after 18 years, so we decided to replace it, too. We were going for lighter and it was never light. (Which is why I had eventually bought a light mint-green quilt to replace it in the summers.)

Since we are still using our old comforter, and I forgot to take a picture earlier, you get to see it with the new headboard. 

We did buy new bedroom comforter (white with a few blue flowers and green leaves and splashes of gold) from The Bay (yes, I miss Sears). 

We also got a new TV (early Black Friday special!) that goes on the wall, and got rid of our small but very heavy old one that had to be ancient.

Then we decided we needed to paint before we actually got things together. Believe it ot not, the white paint on our bedroom walls is what the painters put on when the house was brand new, 18 1/2 years ago. 

Uh Oh!

The week before I was to see the oncologist, I broke out into a weird rash on both sides of my lips. Going up and down like my mouth was the centre of an H. (I stole that from our druggist.) I'd show you a picture but it was gross. If you want to check it out, I believe this is it. 

I put aloe vera on and that helped a bit. Then, because it was still itchy, I tried calamine lotion. That also helped a bit. But not enough. 

Fortunately, I was able to get an appointment the next day at our regular doctor's office to see the nurse practitioner. She gave me two creams to put on, but since she also knew about the cancer diagnosis, she urged me to get a flu shot. I said I'd likely do it after I saw the oncologist. 

The creams she gave me helped, and the good news is that when I saw the oncologist the rash was barely visible, although it took at least three weeks to totally go away. 

The Medical Oncologist

It was finally the day I got the actual results. I don't remember who said this - maybe the nurse practitioner but maybe a nurse at the Breast Cancer Clinic, but surgeons are interested in whether more surgery is needed, while oncologists are interested in the small details that determine what other treatment might be needed.

My oncologist was a young man, who was soft-spoken and very nice. And very thorough.

He asked me what the surgeon had told me and I said that he thought I might need radiation and maybe a pill. 

The oncologist frowned. 

Turns out it wasn't that simple. 

I then got a detailed explanation, complete with drawings on the paper covering the examination table as to why radiation and a pill wouldn't work. 

What I had was Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (IDC), sometimes called Infiltrating Ductal Carcinoma, which is the most common type of breast cancer (about 80%).

The lump was 1.6 cm in diameter, and both the lymph nodes that were also taken out showed no sign of cancer. So that’s all good. I think that made it stage 1. 

However, it’s also triple-negative, which isn’t as common. Something like 15%. Basically, what it means is that it doesn’t respond to hormone treatment (a pill.) 

Basically, tripe negative cancer means that "the growth of the cancer is not supported by the hormones estrogen and progesterone, nor by the presence of too many HER2 receptors. Therefore, triple-negative breast cancer does not respond to hormonal therapy (such as tamoxifen or aromatase inhibitors) or therapies that target HER2 receptors, such as Herceptin (chemical name: trastuzumab)." https://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/diagnosis/trip_neg 

Because it was triple negative, that made the cancer type 2 (which is more aggressive than type 1 but not as aggressive as type 3).

That news not only took out the "pill" option, but also brought in the chemotherapy option. 

Now, I'd realized when I first heard the cancer diagnosis that chemotherapy was a strong possibility. I'd even checked out head covering options.

However, in my mind at least, by focusing on radiation the first time I saw him after the surgery, and then on radiation and maybe a pill at the second appointment, my surgeon had basically taken it off the table. So I hadn't researched chemotherapy very seriously, and I felt unprepared. 

My oncologist totally understood, and told me what he was planning—4 sessions of chemo, each one three weeks apart (roughly 3 months), followed by radiation.

The chemo is for the whole body just in case there are some miniscule cancer cells roaming around. The radiation focuses on where the lump actually was to get any cells that might be there.

We decided that he would go ahead and book me for the chemo, and I would get some blood tests done that day. They'd also book appointments for a a bone scan and a CT scan, presumably to look for any cancer that might already be already there.

I would come back to see him in two weeks and then we'd make the call as to whether or not to go ahead.

  

And More...

The Breast Clinic also called to say I had an appointment to talk to the radiology oncologist, who came from Newmarket 1 or 2 days each month.

My next two weeks were going to be very busy with medical appointments.  

And the need to get our bedroom finished became high priority because I might be spending quite a bit more time in it than usual.

Plus we had just closed the entries for submissions for a new Hot Apple Cider book. What would we do about that? 

To Be Continued...

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post Pathology Reports, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 4 appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

LoveChild 13: Our Shaw / Brown Heritage

“No journey is too great if you find what you seek.”

Anonymous

Since Dad rarely spoke about his background, almost everything I know about it was told to me by my mother (and inevitably coloured by her perspective), picked up through my own observations, or overheard when members of Dad’s family were talking. 

In addition, the Shaw family had a reunion in Ireland in 2014, which resulted in a booklet that included some very helpful genealogical information. (Many thanks to Winston Shaw, who edited and compiled the book!)

As I've said before, I would love to have any new information that people can give me. 

The Shaws of Ballymacarn

As you might guess from the title of the above book, my dad was a member of the Shaw family who lived in Ballymacarn, Northern Ireland. Since "bally" is short for the Gaelic word "baile na" meaning roughly "place of" and "carn" is "a cairn," I'm guessing there was a cairn of some kind in the area when it was first settled. But it isn't remotely that simple. You can check the actual origin of the name

The farm where Robert and Margaret Shaw raised their family. 

However, tragedy struck in 1875 when Robert Shaw died at the age of 65, leaving Margaret with five children ages 5 to 15.

The oldest daughter, Mary, had married three years earlier, and George, while still young, had been apprenticed to a watchmaker. George worked for several years in Belfast, Ireland, one year in Glasgow, Scotland, and then immigrated to Canada and resided at Mitchell, Ontario for a short time. 

After his father’s death, George, who would have been about 18, returned to Ireland to help his mother with the farm. However, the desire to return to Canada must have been strong because after a few years, George chose to leave his home and family to start over in Canada.

My mother thought this photo was of George Brown Shaw, probably taken during the time when he was back in Ireland or shortly after his return to Canada.

The Home Farm

George Brown's mother Margaret would have been 50 when her husband died, and it wasn't usual for a woman to be given the lease on land. However, their landlord changed the lease on their farm to Margaret's name, so she was able to keep their lands and home.

But with her eldest son gone to Canada and her second son's death from pneumonia in 1886 at the age of 25, she was left with only her youngest son, Andrew, age 19, to rely on.

In 1890, when Andrew was 23, he married Margaret Reid and they lived with his mother. Three years later, on April 14, 1893, Margaret legally turned over the lease for the farm to Andrew. She died four years later at the age of 72 and Andrew and his family remained on the farm. 

Andrew Shaw, wife Margaret, and three of their children.

The Daughters

Robert and Margaret's daughters followed the customary way of those times, which was to marry, take their husband's name, and become part of their world. Mary married William Dickson; Isabella, James McClelland; Eliza Ann, Alexander Hutchinson; Margaret, Joseph Lyons; and Agnes, William John Corbett.

The older girls married local men, but several of them went to Belfast to become servants in homes or work in the linen mills, and met their future husbands there. And gradually, along with many other people from Ireland, including some of their cousins, the families spread over the world (the United States, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Canada, etc.) so that many of them lost their connection to the rest of the Shaw family.

The only name I recall from my childhood is Lyons. I know my dad had a friend named Alec or Alex Lyons and since Margaret and Joseph Lyons had a son called Alexander, I think that might have been him.

Back in Canada

Manitoba had become a province of Canada in 1870, although the boundaries then were much smaller than what they later became.

To encourage agricultural settlement, the Government of Canada passed the Dominion Lands Act, assented to on April 14, 1872. This act created what is now known as the Homestead Act. Under this legislation a person was entitled to claim, for a $10.00 fee, a quarter section (160 acres) on even numbered sections subject to specified conditions. The standard requirements were that the homesteader would reside on the land claimed for at least six months of the year, would establish a permanent residence and would break 40 acres over three years. A second adjacent quarter costing $2.00 or $2.50 per acre, could be reserved as a pre-emption, for a total of a half section or 320 acres. Thus many of the original farms in Manitoba were settled as Homesteads and were either 160 or 320 acres in size. Much of what is now Southwest Manitoba was settled between 1878 and 1882.

While what is now Winnipeg had a population of only 100 in 1870, it grew rather quickly thereafter. Census data for following years shows: in 1871 — 215; in 1872 — 1,467; in 1873 — 2500; in 1874 — 3,700; and in 1875 — some 5000 people. (Manitoba Agricultural Hall of Fame History).

When George Brown Shaw returned to Canada in 1883, I believe it was because of the Homestead Act. He wanted to build a home and start a family in a new country where he would own his own farm and not have to lease it. And I expect he wanted the freedom to choose his own path. 

George was given a homestead near Birtle, Manitoba, and off he went to begin his new life. 

Can You Relate?

1. George Brown Shaw used his full name as his signature. Perhaps he remembered his grandfather. Do you have a name that reminds you of someone? 

2. You may have noticed that the same names seem to be repeated over and over and over.... In fact, when a baby died very young, you even find that name reused by the family for a later child. Did you/would you name your children after relatives?

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post LoveChild 13: Our Shaw / Brown Heritage appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.