Keeping Abreast of Ellen

It's Christmas Eve! Well it was when I wrote this post. It really doesn’t bother me that I didn’t get to publish it yesterday as soon as my last sentence was typed. It is also no skin off my wrinkly nose that I was only able to do one very quick edit at 11:55 p.m., thereby ensuring this message would not reach you on Christmas Eve, given that it wasn’t travelling on Santa’s sleigh. Not.a.problem. My message is out now, and you are reading it, and that is all that matters in the end, right? So here it is, my Christmas message to you.  Note: While it is unarguably Christmas-related, it has been, as with all of my writings, scripted with every human, animal, spirit and holder of space in mind, so applicable to all. I just have a bone to pick with Christmas and it’s been simmering into the perfect storm of a broth for years…so get ready for a tasty yet powerful punch!  Let’s restart… It's Christmas Day! I am sending so much love and light to all of you, my family, friends and once...

On Sunday I attended a Fireside Teaching and Healing Workshop with Jenny (Sâwanohk) Sutherland. Jenny is the visionary and owner of the Misiwe Ni Relations Healing Lodge , an Indigenous Healer, and a registered psychotherapist. During our workshop she took our small circle of four through a smudging ceremony and a fireside chat on how being in the winter season and especially the stress of December's expectations depletes our energy and increases our anxiety. Sunday's session was all about restoring our energy through the power of connectedness, intention and a guided journey which left me filled with euphoria and peace, not to mention, more energy than I've felt in many moons! Two lasting pieces of wisdom stood out from our morning together: First, we all come from water and we must constantly work to replenish it. This is more than the futile promise I've made to myself all these years, "I really need to drink more water". No, I need to actually DO it, not j...

To quote Lady Whistledown, and because I feel strongly that this update (though far from gossip), is worthy of your time and readership, I will lead with: Dear Gentle Reader, Sequels are generally overrated. Mine is no exception. I have been toiling for months over how best and when to communicate this difficult news to you. I settled on today as I am now seven months in, have dusted off my figurative pen, and truly have cause to give thanks.  For those who need me to cut to the chase, here goes: Cancer has come knocking again. In fact it didn't knock, it let itself in through an open window and has taken up residence. Although it's contained to a few adjoining rooms (abdominal lymph nodes, ribs and pelvis), uninvited guests can travel in packs, so my awesome medical team and I are keeping a watchful eye for new squatters.  Those interested in how this story unfolds can  follow my new Facebook Page , Keeping Abreast of Ellen, where I'll soon post updates on key milestones...

Sometimes you think your week is going to start out one way, then it takes a sharp turn and leads you on an entirely different path. Sometimes the day wakes you up full of promise and hope, then tucks you in at night, numb and devoid of feeling. Sometimes you plan to write a light-hearted post on the age-old question of "how to find more time", and instead find yourself with a heavy heart, cursing time, and grieving the loss of one of your dearest friends. So you decide to write about that instead.  Today is that day. This is that post. Her name was Alice.  She was alive on a Wednesday. She died on a Thursday. I cried with disbelief for many days leading up to that day, and with unbridled sadness every day since. This was not the script that had been written for this leading lady. There were many more pages in her book, beautiful blank canvases full of imagery, ready to be captured. Her life had more volumes than the treasured  Livraria Lello  in Porto, and it w...

This week was a milestone - my 10th Cancerversary, a term some use to reference the anniversary of either diagnosis (my case), or the end of active treatment. I felt called to resurrect my blog, begin writing again, and set in motion a plan to write my first book. While there have been many constants, my perspective on cancer has changed in many ways since those early months when everything was a big, black hole. What does reflecting on a decade of living post-cancer reveal? Here are ten things I hate to admit about cancer: 1. Chemo was worth it While active treatment was no walk in the park, I navigated the initial chemo bombs far better than the post-rads fallout years. My aggressive treatment plan brought late side effects (heard of late-COVID? similar), many of which remain to this day. I remember being connected with a breast cancer survivor when I was preparing to return to work. Impatient and overwhelmed by brain fog and the inability to remember common words or to multi-tas...

Ten steps I climbed to the hospital door, Ten hallways I walked late at night. Ten strangers I passed on the MRI floor, Ten faces that mirrored my fright. Ten minutes I waited alone in the room, Ten pages I turned without reading.  Ten tears that transported my feelings of doom, Ten sighs that my heart was still beating.  Ten voices I heard, when there was but one, Ten tones that deafened my ears. Ten seconds I counted, then wanted to run, Ten pauses that silenced my fears. Ten breaths I took as I ventured away, Ten thoughts that entered my mind. Ten days I pondered, just what they would say, Ten reasons I feared they would find.   Ten months of treatment to help me survive, Ten fingers and toes to discover.  Ten years celebrating being alive, Ten birthdays of being her mother.