Oh She Glows – Apple Bake

First off – For those of you who have read my post from a few months back about how I am was going to start cooking everyday, and you are sitting around and laughing at my lies – I would just like to say, it’s been harder than you think.

I had good intentions, but then I went through a major slump. I was depressed, eating still fairly healthy, but not perfect. Most days I didn’t want to do much of anything. I also was stressed over planning for my wedding – which I will post about on a later date.

Now – back to the good stuff!

This oatmeal apple bake found in the Oh She Glows cookbook is AMAZING. I have actually already made it twice. It is so easy once you figure it out for the first time.


Here is a picture of all of the ingredients I used the first time around. I try to stay as healthy and organic as possible. The Simply Organic products are my absolute favourite.


And there is the beautiful finished product. I transferred it to a few containers as it keeps really well in the fridge – I continued to eat it up to 4-5 days later. I am also sure it freezes really well in case you have too many leftovers.

After doing it the second time around I changed a few things. For starters, as you can see I did not add pears. I am not the biggest fan of baked pears. I also included 4 apples and did not skin them. The first time I made this I found skinning every apple to be tedious and I just didn’t want to do it again. It honestly tastes the exact same.

Highly recommended!!

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Lose My Breath

Three lung surgeries in one year, that fact is a little tough to swallow – and breathe. When your bad lung is relying on your other lung for support, but that lung was just bothered a month ago, it’s a struggle. Thankfully I am through the thick of it now. My hospital stay this time was shorter than usual. In on a Tuesday and out on the Saturday. Other than the usual chest tube annoyances, it was a pretty regular hospital stay for me. What I was not expecting since I was feeling like a pro now when it came to lung surgeries, was just how different this one was. My first two were wedge resections, this one was a partial lobectomy. What is the difference? Well the simplest way to put it is that my first two tumours were on the surface of my lung. My surgeon just has to go in and cut it off the top. My last tumour was in the tissue of the lung, so this time he had to take an actual portion of it. So that on top of everything else, made it hard for me to even walk up the stairs. One day I was so winded when I got to the top, I sat down on the bed to catch my breath. I was so exhausted from just those few steps, that I did not want to have to deal with it all over again just to get back downstairs. So I just sat there. This was my life now. Would I rather starve on the couch or get up and deal with not being about to breathe? I’ll starve.

Best Friend

What is a friend? Or the difference between a friend, and a good friend, or even a best friend? So close to you they are like family. How should this relationship be? During my experiences I have seen many people jump in and out of each category of friend. Some seem to understand it all at first, and then slowly fall away. There are certain ones however. Ones that know that some days you might be a little more emotional. Some days you might be extra distant. This many go on for weeks – barely any communication with one another. But that doesn’t matter to them. They are able to put their ego aside and have empathy. They are your voice when you are not able to speak. They display true friendship even when you are unable to witness it. THESE people are what it means to be a true friend. I hope everyone can find it within themselves to be this person every day. To think of others before themselves. To have understanding and compassion. It’s really not hard. 

Unraveled

These past two and a half years have been go, go, go. My day to day focus was usually about preparing for something coming up. Whether it was a surgery, chemo, whatever. I’ve always been told by others that they are surprised how well I am able to hold it together. They weren’t wrong, for the most part I did have it all together. Now I just feel completely unraveled. It is almost like being sick was in a way, easier, because it was physical. I had a focus, where now I don’t. Everyday I have a fist full of sand that is just leaking out of every crack and I am just struggling to keep it all intact. It feels like an impossible task. 

I have learned along the way to fake it pretty well. So I’m not sure most would even think anything is wrong. In a social setting I can handle myself and can speak and act as if everything is just fine and dandy. Inside however, I feel black and cold. Every day I feel alone and trapped in this hole that I can’t get out of. People can say they understand, but when it comes down to it, they don’t. All the depressed thoughts have been pushed aside week and week because I have had bigger things to focus on. Now everyday each little thought pops out of its hiding spot and adds to the pile of shit in my head. 

The wedding is just a few weeks away and I am trying my hardest to pull it together. I thought the planning of it would take my mind off of everything else, but in fact it makes it worse. Every little detail and stress makes me want to pull more and more away. 

I’m sure it won’t be like this forever. But just a day of it feels like an eternity. 

Unknown

Since I have been home from the hospital, I have gone through my usual routine of being a hermit – or so I thought. Usually after any of my surgeries, I spend a lot of my time recovering quietly. Sure, I will go out the odd time, but always try not to make those times too social. I am never interested in talking to anyone – I just enjoy the peace and quiet. So this time I have been the same way, except I should be starting to turn the corner by now. I have been in a “funk” emotionally for the past few weeks and could not figure out what was wrong. At first I thought it was the recovery process, and then I thought maybe it is the stress of the wedding. Both of those do play a part in the way I am feeling, but they still were not enough. Yesterday I finally broke down and figured it out. I’m entering into a world of unknown. I have been here before, last summer to be exact. I had a successful surgery and entered into the “monitor” stage, only to find out after my first scan that everything was back. So this time I do not have the same delusions in my head that maybe, just maybe, I have finally beat this cancer shit. After my post op this week I just am left to sit around until October when I will have my next scan. It weighs so heavy on my mind.

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Port Advocate

When I see the hospital calling I always assume the worst. For the first time in a long while, this call was only good news. Let me back track before I get into my conversation with Dr. Jay.

During my time in the hospital for my first two surgeries in 2014, I was a human pin cushion. I had IV lines coming out of every vein they could tap. My hand, wrist, and arm were all covered with lines that weren’t even hooked up to anything. They were all there “just in case” they were needed. On top of this, I was still bothered once a day by a nurse, who would poke at me to take my blood. Worse even still, were my constant arguments in the ICU over a picc line. (If you are not familiar with this term, it is a tube they insert and leave open in your veins, so they have direct access to your blood.) I would fight tooth and nail with every nurse that came in to inform me that they were going to put one in. “Why do you need to put one in, I have a PORT!” The first time my yelling worked and I was able to keep them away until I made it to the surgery ward. The second surgery, I was not as successful. I had three nurses hold my arms down, while a male doctor cut into different parts of my hand and arm trying to start the line. I was crying the whole time and begging them to stop. After trying in four different areas, they were nice enough to give me a break. (This sentence couldn’t be any more sarcastic.) An hour or so later a new nurse came in to let me know they were going to try again soon. I cried and said, “Please just explain something to me. What is the point of me having a Port-a-cath if it is not going to be used? The whole reason I had it implanted is so I wouldn’t have to get a picc line. This doesn’t make any sense!” She surprisingly agreed, and then proceeded to call off the picc line.

Side note: While driving the other day I thought about this moment, and I cried underneath my Raybans. I wish my memories in the hospital could all be erased.

From my weight gain in the winter of 2014, I developed a lot of extra fat on top of my port. This made it really tricky to access. So when it came time for my surgery in 2015, I did not bring it up.

When I met with Dr. Jay and Dr. Ko this year to discuss my May surgeries, I was quick to touch on this subject.

“Can I ask you guys something? Why the hell am I poked at everyday – which hurts by the way – when I have a bloody port? What the hell is the point of having this thing if every nurse I speak to, other than the ones in oncology, don’t know how to use it?”

“You’re right.”

WHHHAATTTTT!? This was the first and probably last time they will ever tell me I am right. Even though I have been right SO many times before, and will probably continue to be.

“It is a little tricky to explain why they are not trained to access it. However, I will make sure this time it is used.”

To my surprise, they kept their word. For both my surgeries in May, my port was used. I was administered all of my drugs through it, and all of my blood was taken from it. No more tube city!

Which brings us to today. Dr. Jay called and asked me if I wouldn’t mind speaking about all of this to a colleague of his in the hospital. Since I was such an advocate for myself during all of my hospital stays, it started a movement. Nurses are now starting to be trained on how to access ports. A woman is putting together a proposal for more funding, in order to be able to have the supplies and training needed, so all nurses will know how to use the port to their full advantage in the future. I obviously said yes right away. If I can help prevent future surgical patients from having to experience what I have been through, I am all for it!

I will also request to have it called “The Jamie Protocol”. Just kidding……… not really.

 

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The New Plan

If you are reading this and wondering how my surgery went, I apologize. I was called by my surgeon 3 weeks ago and told that he had to bump me. There was a patient he had who has a more complicated problem and needed my time slot. So my new surgery date is July 5th. I have been asked a lot, “How do you feel about that?”. Truthfully – I feel fine. I’m confident my surgeon wouldn’t have chosen me to move if he did not think that I would be ok.

The other interesting piece of information I found out recently is that I will no longer have to go back on chemo. During my post operation appointment, Dr. Jay let me know that after my last lung surgery I would be put back on chemo, particularly Oxaliplatin (or Eloxatin). This is the drug that is used in the FolFox treatment. I spoke up faster than he could finish his sentence and let out a big “Hell no”.

If you want to know why I was so fast to react – please refer to my posts in October 2015.

Dr. Jay was quick to respond and let me know that this was the only drug which is proven to work with cancer that has not yet formed a tumour. But my answer was still no. I am one of the rare people whose bodies cannot handle this drug. I told Dr. Jay that my oncologist would back me up but he wasn’t hearing it. I get it – I am known to complain about being on chemo because I hate it. So I assume he just thought this was me being dramatic. Jokes on him.

A few weeks ago I met up again with Dr. Jay and he let me know I was right and he should just listen to me moving forward.

Just kidding.

What he did say however is that he had a meeting with my oncologist and THEY decided that I cannot be on FolFox. It does not react well with my body and it would do more harm than good.

Oh reaaalllyyyyy???

So – no more chemo for me this summer. This news is amazing because I really didn’t want to be sick and bald for my wedding in September. I am slightly worried however. I have been off chemo for this long before and just exploded all over again with tumours. So I am being cautiously optimistic. Not one of my doctors is saying, “After this next surgery you will be cancer free and we will never see you again.” Actually what they have said is, “This most likely won’t be the last operation you have – just so you know.”

Cool.

 

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Oh She Glows

Eating out is so much easier than cooking. That is probably one of the main reasons I got into this mess – I was the queen of fast food. Even though I no longer spend my days in a drive-thru, I do still eat out a lot. With my kitchen renovation complete, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to actually use it. For my birthday I received the Oh She Glows vegan cookbook by Angela Liddon. I have heard the recipes are easy to follow and that the food is AMAZING. So let’s give it a shot. For the next little while I will be trying to make one dish a week. I will post my progress on here so you all can follow along! This will also hold me accountable so I can’t just run out and grab a pita. Maybe I will actually enjoy this? I will get started after my next surgery (which is July 5th). My food will become my new drug since I am not being put back on chemo right away.

 

 

 

Worrywart

Every little ache or pain I have, my mind begins to wonder – Is this THAT bad? Should I go see a doctor? I’m always nervous to go to a walk-in or the hospital because when new doctors find out about me, they run every test known to man. Here is a breakdown of my train of thought:

So a little bit of pain in my back is probably just a pulled muscle right? Hold on let me google it…. Ok the organ located in that area is the right kidney…. So is the pain from a muscle or is it my kidneys? Well I’m having no problems in the bathroom so it must just be my muscle….. But it is so close to my liver – maybe it’s just my body healing from the surgery….. Or it is the cancer that jumped from my liver to my kidney….. Ok I will just wait one more day and see if it gets worse. 

Here’s another one that also happened this week:

Hmm, my seatbelt is rubbing on my incision site – that’s not comfortable…. Ok where it is has been rubbing for the past few days seems to be irritated – I’ll just hold the belt away from it…. So it’s been a week and the irritation has become larger and now even if my shirt floats by it, I feel like someone is sticking their finger in an open wound – I’ll leave it a few more days…. Hmm my shirt feels wet, oh that’s because it wasn’t swollen it was infected and filled with puss that has seemed to have popped open in the night…. Guess I’ll call the doctor – maybe I should have gone earlier?

I can’t run off to the doctor everytime I have an ache in my body – I would live at the hospital (even though I already feel like I do). However if I leave things and they are something serious, then I am just hurting myself and making things worse. I’m sure I am not the only crazy person out there. 

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Black Out

No, this is not about to be a hilarious story of some drunken antics I got up to over the long weekend. And for the record, I have never been “black out drunk”. So to all those friends who over the years I said, “I did what? Oh I don’t remember at all” – that statement was a load of bull.

My first surgery of the summer took place on May 2nd and was quickly followed by a second on May 4th. I called my fiancé on May 8th and to my surprise (and apparently also his), he said “Oh hi – Wow you sound like yourself today.” Um sorry? The weird thing about blacking out in the hospital is that you do not realize you were until it is all pointed out to you. It still hadn’t hit me yet that the past week of my life was all just a blur. A few days later my mom was visiting after work (as she did everyday) and said, “Oh you were so mean on Saturday. You were yelling at me and told me to leave and never come back. I cried to your father about how if this was your new personality, I don’t think I want to take you home.” How horrible is that? I felt awful. I can remember pieces of that week, mainly just the painful things. I remember having to flip on my sides for my sponge bath, and how painful that was. I remember HGTV always being on the television. I remember the day I hallucinated and screamed out to my nurses that I must have a fever (which I was right about). I know one afternoon I was screaming out in pain and begged anyone who would listen to me to make it go away. Besides those few things, I don’t remember much else. 

I asked around and have been able to figure out what I was saying and doing for those days. Here are some stories I was told:

“One day you wanted to pull out the line going into your port. You were so angry when we tried to hold you down and stop you from doing it.”

“You thought I had your phone in my purse and began to throw everything out of it screaming at me to give it back.”

“The tv stopped working and you lost it.”

“You thought I had cookies in my hand and kept reaching out to get them.”

“You thought I had doughnuts and wanted them.”

“Everything on your lunch tray you wanted to put in your coffee cup. Then you got mad when we wouldn’t let you.”

“You walked the halls of the ICU with your catheter, epidural and chest tube in – somehow in no pain.”

“Anything you tried to do you would fall asleep after 20 seconds. Mid sip of a drink – asleep. On the phone – asleep.”

“We were concerned with how out of it you were. We thought you would slip into a coma in the night.” 
Sounds fabulous. 

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