you overwhelm me

I am overwhelmed by all the good wishes I have received via every possible media in the last couple of days. Thank you so much for your love and support.

After the initial rush of joy at learning my good news, I admit to being numb for the next twenty-four hours or so. I couldn't quite believe that the tumours could be gone. It was also really weird to be shocked by good news for a change.

But the shock has worn off and now I am positively giddy.

And it gets better. My wonderful friends have given me the most amazing birthday present. I was presented today with a cheque that will completely cover all of my BlogHer expenses (and then some). All of them (except for air travel, which, you may recall, was covered by points from my brother-in-law).

I knew that some money was coming (a couple of people had let this slip). I knew that my friends were making it possible for me to go to Chicago.

But I am completely and utterly overwhelmed by your generosity.

I don't have the words to express my gratitude. I am even a little embarrassed.

And very, very touched.

Planning for BlogHer has been very important. The mere act of making a commitment to attend something several months ahead of time felt like a defiance of cancer. I had to plan on being healthy and fit because I had committed to this trip. The very idea got me through some difficult days and nights.

I have the best friends in the world.

New Tool Kit: Massachusetts Health Reform

Ed Howard and his team at the non-partisan Alliance for Health Reform here in Washington have done another of their great jobs in putting together a resource for anyone interested in the Massachusetts health reform plan.From their overview:"Starting July 1, every adult in Massachusetts is required to have health coverage (except for 60,000 people exempted by the state). To help you understand the

holy sh*t

I learned the results from my CT scan today:

"There has been very substantial response to treatment. Widespread metastatic disease to the liver has regressed remarkably...Very significant response to chemotherapy...the remaining parenchymal nodules and evidence of scarring are difficult to evaluate for viable residual disease."

In other words, they could find no evidence of the cancer, just scars to show where the tumours once were.

The doctor who works with my oncologist said, as she passed me the report, "I want to frame this." She was beaming.

This doesn't mean I can quit chemo (or, especially, Herceptin) but it does mean that, at least over the summer, I will go less frequently (receiving treatment every three weeks).

There are very likely still cancer cells in my body but they appear to be impossible to locate, at the moment.

As my doctor said, "This is as good as it gets."

I am in shock, and completely elated. I keep re-reading my ct scan report and have yet to bring myself to tell anyone (my spouse knows, because he was with me). I was very optimistic that I would at least learn that my tumours were stable and was hoping for even better news. But this, honestly, is almost beyond my wildest dreams.

I have some thoughts on why my health has improved so much and how I do feel that there is a two-tiered health care system but I'll save that for another day.

Going to go pinch myself now.

The Market Has a Place in Health Care But It Also Has Its Limits

Every leading health care proposal today includes a place for the market. Some believe government should run it all and then there are those who believe the real solution lies in just letting an unfettered market get it all done.Health care is not like buying a set of tires. We lose our market-driven objectivity pretty quickly when we are faced with scary medical decisions for ourselves or for

off to the spa

The month-long birthday extravaganza begins today (I am turning 40 on August 4th). I am off to the spa with my friend D. until tomorrow morning. Until then, as a last nod to Canada's birthday (I was a Centennial baby. Canada is one hundred years older than I am), I give you the Yarn Harlot and her Canadian A-Z (that would a to zed, if you don't mind).

Finally, D. started at the day care in his new school today (he starts JK in the fall). To say that he was eager and ready is an understatement. On the way over he made us practice our lines: "You say, 'Have a good day, son.'"

I think my children may watch too much television.

happy belated canada day

Outside of our nation's capital, Canada Day is a pretty laid back affair. Oh, there are fireworks, free concerts, parties and lots, and lots of backyard barbecues, but it all pales in comparison to the festivities in Ottawa.

My adopted home town is, generally speaking, a pretty staid place. But on Canada Day, the city pulls out all the stops. Tens of thousands descend on Parliament Hill (and dozens of satellite venues) to celebrate and thousands more take the partying to the streets (including the two young clean cut guys I saw casually strolling and sharing a doob, as I sat on my friends' front steps in the heart of downtown - across from a very busy park and mere blocks from the city's main cop shop). Everywhere you look, folks are decked out in red and white (I was wearing blue and grey but that's really all that was clean).

To be perfectly honest, I have always found it to be a little much. I think this comes in part from living so close to a university. Having drunken students littering the streets is one thing, but listening to shouted obscenities at four in the morning and the sound of tomatoes hitting my fence (yes, this has happened) is quite another (I shuddered with horror yesterday afternoon when I realized that the frat boys across the street were drinking from pails, then it occurred to me that twenty years ago, I might have been there, drinking with them, and just as oblivious to my neightbours. I was more alternative-crunchy-granola than frat friendly, but I don't think the more progressive epithets made one whit of difference to our long-suffering neighbours).

And the thing, is, I'm kind of uncomfortable with nationalism (this has been reinforced after 16 years of living with a secular Jew who majored in History at university). So many horrific things, around the world and here at home, have been done in the name of nationhood.

However, I am proud to be Canadian. While we have leagues to go until we match the values we purport to espouse (hello aboriginal poverty, residential schools, the Chinese Head Tax, and the incarceration of Japanese Canadians during WWII, to name just a few things for which we have to atone), this country is a pretty good place to live.

There are many things I appreciate about Canada, some intangible (or at least beyond my ability to articulate at this late hour. I'd start with the fact that we're funny and living next to the giant next door gives us a pretty good sense of perspective) and some more concrete (like good beer, great music, gay marriage and the extra letter we throw into a whole bunch of words). Chief among them, though, is our social safety net. It's somewhat tattered for sure, but it's existence is one of the things that defines us.

Life as a cancer patient has really brought this home for me. There have been glitches along the way for sure but generally speaking, the Canadian health care system has been very good to me.
And I am very grateful indeed that I have never had to chose between chemotherapy and feeding my children.

So this is what I wish for Canada, in it's 141st year - a renewal of our commitment to comprehensive health coverage for every Canadian, regardless of where she or he may live. Oh, and a national pharmacare programme (to ensure that prescription drugs are available to all who need them) is long overdue as well.

Happy birthday, Canada!

May the sangria (red like the flag) flow freely and the barbecues be hot for many years to come.

I had a very good time on your birthday this year.

i need to be sexier

I was checking in at the Junky's Wife this morning and learned that if you follow this link, you can find out how your blog would be rated.

The only content standing between me and a G rating, apparently, were references to 'pain' and 'death'.

Apparently they didn't dig back far enough into the archives. What about 'boob'? Or this story, about exotic dancers? I guess this blog isn't very sexy. Or violent.

And why is 'pain' problematic?