After chemotherapy ends: Where’s the kaboom?

Format Video

Chemotherapy has been over for a month now. I’m in a strange post-treatment world. Chemo ended, I’m effectively in remission (complete response, I think?) and there is no fanfare or acknowledgement of it other than within my little family. The oncologist will see me in a few months to see how I’m doing. I had my post-chemo PET scan on Tuesday, which was uneventful. There’s nothing else to report, and I’m supposed to go back to life as normal.

But life isn’t playing fair, I guess. Not that I believe life ever plays fair.

This week has been particularly difficult, and I have struggled with writing about it. I’m not sure why, since writing about things helps me deal with them. But that’s how it is.

I’m still not fully recovered post-chemo, even though my last treatment was February 11. I am still more tired than I normally would be, although I feel better as time goes on. I knew this was how it would go, though. It might take a while until I feel mostly normal again. I’m just not there yet.

I’ve had a head cold since about Tuesday. Mildly irritating, but not a big deal. At least I can treat it and not be worried about getting a fever. It’s just a normal, annoying, run-of-the-mill cold. Lyra and Pandra both have the same one. Not that it’s really slowing them down at all.

Adam and Pandra
Adam and Pandra cuddling on the couch, with boots. Because that’s how she rolls.

Adam has been suffering from moderate to severe abdominal pain nonstop for the past week (at minimum – he’s had some kind of undiagnosable abdominal pain since January. Yay.) As of now, he’s been to Emergency a few times, talked to our doctor (who seems to think it’s in his head, which is oh so helpful), talked to another doctor, and has finally been referred to a general surgeon to discuss more diagnosing options. It might be a gall bladder issue. It could be a severe ulcer of some sort. Or maybe it’s both. Perhaps it’s neither, but instead something else that we haven’t thought of or considered. The Internet likes to tell us it’s Cancer (thanks, Internet, but we didn’t really need your opinion… you think everything is Cancer).

What we do know is that he’s in enough pain that he’s afraid to eat and has lost around 25lbs in two months, he doesn’t seem to be able to control it with diet, activity, or inactivity, and that it seems to come in waves of attacks, taking him from mild to moderate to severe pain with unknown triggers. If it’s gall bladder, it could be fatty foods. If it’s ulcer, it could be stomach acid. But the patterns aren’t settling into predictability, so it’s frustrating.

I worked from home on Wednesday to take care of Adam. Then he had a pretty severe attack the next day, which meant neither of us slept much on Thursday night, and I had a massive fail getting out the door with the girls on Friday morning, so I missed my train and was miserably tired. I stayed home that day too, but to rest; it helped some.

I also discovered, on Friday morning, that someone had rifled through the glove box and console of our car overnight. They hadn’t stolen anything though. Apparently CDs aren’t worth stealing anymore. Even if it was an opportunistic thing (they didn’t break a window, so it’s fair to say we forgot to lock the car that night) it was a bit upsetting. Good thing there’s nothing of value in the car, anyway, and they didn’t have tools or time/incentive to pull our nice-ish stereo out of the car.

Of course, with Adam in extreme pain for a good part of the week, everything else has become more complicated. It’s demoralizing to watch him and not be able to fix it, which I’m sure he understands after having me in chemo for months. On top of that, I have to be ready to drop everything and take him to the hospital at any moment, which means trying to secure someone to watch the girls if it comes to that. Finding short-notice childcare is a challenge when most of our local friends have kids of their own, or, you know, lives, like normal people. My friends are awesome. I have had to lean on them too much, though.

I am so very tired of asking friends to be on-call in case we need help. I’m tired of us needing so much help. I’m tired of being too tired to fully commit to anything I do. I’m too tired to proof-read.

And all the tiredness and the frustration and the needing support from friends and the illness and the inability to commit to anything is wearing me a bit thin. I’ve been kind of wavering between exhausted, extremely grumpy, and vaguely sad for the last week. I remember the vague sadness, and that dull tightness in my chest that makes me feel like breathing is harder than it should be. If I don’t take care of myself, it turns into something else. And while it’s been a long time since I’ve been depressed, I can recognize some of my own tells. I’m not — don’t panic or anything — but if I don’t pay attention, I might end up there. So I’m trying to pay attention.

Apparently having cancer and going through chemo can’t make a dent in me (or my hair, which is coming back in force), but being hit with a bunch of new issues right when everything is supposed to get better because ‘yay cancer-free’ is enough to make me just a little bit broken. I haven’t even had time to lament the fact that I haven’t felt any internal fanfare for my not having cancer anymore. Where’s the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom.

I wish I believed in karma enough to think that, after this last year of mostly crappy things (I checked; it’s been twelve months of predominantly crappy things with some nice things peppered amongst them), good things of equivalent value were due to happen to us. Sadly, I don’t. Not that I don’t think that things will get better; I know they will. But neither do I think we’re owed anything by the universe. Stupid universe, quit making me grumpy.

The year I nearly spent Christmas in the hospital…

Those two rough weeks I had just a little while back? They’ve been topped. Oh how they were topped.

Saturday, December 21st: The cold gets worse

I was having my usual low-energy-five-days-after-chemo sort of day, where I just wanted to sit around and do nothing much. My cough and cold I had picked up from the girls was pretty bad, so I mostly did exactly that, other than a short trip out to North Vancouver to buy a new backpack for Lyra and pick up Adam’s brother to bring back to our place for a visit. Even that seemed like it was pushing it, though, so we went home and relaxed for the night.

I felt worse as the evening progressed. My cold hadn’t been getting better — I had been coughing so hard my stomach muscles were killing me. But the doctor had told me on Monday to take anything I needed to for the cold. I took some NyQuil and went to bed, hoping I would feel better.

The first time I woke up was because I felt off. As I lay in bed listening to my body, it suddenly told me that it wanted to remove all traces of sushi dinner from my stomach, via the route it entered. I obeyed, and spent some time in the washroom throwing up into the toilet. It was unpleasant.

And then I started wondering if I had a fever, but was too out of it from NyQuil haze to really keep that thought in my head. I crawled back into bed with Adam, and went back to sleep for a little while. At least until I woke up again with the feeling of needing to puke again. So I did. And also had some diarrhea. It was even more unpleasant than earlier.

Adam took my temperature and confirmed that I did, in fact, have a fever. I curled up on the couch and coughed a lot and felt generally terrible, occasionally puking into a bowl. Adam phoned the Oncologist’s pager to find out if he should take me to emergency, and I guess she could hear me coughing in the background and I did not sound great. She said yes, and told him that the hospital near our house (Eagle Ridge Hospital) would be fine to take me to. We weren’t sure, because they don’t have a cancer unit there so they don’t necessarily have experience dealing with cancer patient care in emergency, but she said if they had questions they could call her.

I threw up at least one more time, had some more liquified poop fun times, and discovered that my period had started. Fun. I changed into the most comfortable clothes I could find with the expectation of staying in hospital for who knew how long, we woke Jordy up, told him he was in charge of the children until further notice, and Adam whisked me off to Eagle Ridge Hospital (one block away), where the ER was almost empty.

I felt terrible. Beyond worse than I can remember ever feeling. Absolutely at my lowest, and fighting some vague despair that had me wondering how people could keep the will to move forward through feeling so bad. I went away mentally for a while so I wouldn’t have to deal with the despair. It was the lowest of my low points.

I registered with the ER admissions nurse in a combined haze of NyQuil and feeling the worst I have perhaps ever felt in my life. Adam gave them my Bleomycin lung damage card (the one that says I can’t get Oxygen therapy because I’ve had to take Bleomycin for chemo) and showed it to every subsequent nurse or doctor who had anything to do with my care. I’m glad he was attentive, because I was not particularly. I remember thinking, and possibly articulating to Adam, that I felt worse than I had ever felt in my entire life, and I did not like it. Not one bit.

I got moved into a room in the ER, and IV’d up. They sent me off for chest x-rays and then installed me into a very small room in the ER. I drifted in and out of coherence throughout the whole thing, and was thankful not to be throwing up any more. At one point the doctor treating me said he was going to put me on an antibiotic and left the room to get it set up. He poked his head back through the door after a minute, saying “I’m going to put you on a different antibiotic because I looked one up that’s specifically for chemo patients, so that’s what I’m going to put you on, and you really don’t care what antibiotic I put you on do you?” I half-grinned at him and said “Nope, whatever you like”.

Adam updated Facebook with a message to let people know what was happening with me:

I’m starting to dislike feeling so at home in hospitals. Two trips to Eagle Ridge ER in one week for two different family members will attest to that.

Jenny spiked a fever and immediately started throwing up last night (serious stuff when chemotherapy is involved and the immune system is suppressed), right on the day of the lowest point in her chemo cycle. A quick call to her oncologist at 3am confirmed she was to report to the closest hospital ER immediately. Lucky for us Jordy was staying with us so I was able to leave him with the kids. I hadn’t slept all night as it was so was awake and pretty much ready to go.

4 hours later we’ve had a barrage of blood tests, an IV of antibiotics and she is finally asleep. I’ve snuck out of the room for a quick breather

Mission to stop the cold that ravaged my kids over the past three weeks from reaching my wife: Failed.

So far, not fond of Christmas this year. All I really want for Christmas is a return to some sense of normalcy, and about 3 weeks sleep.

This ceiling is starting to look too familiar.

I stayed in that little room with saline and antibiotics pumping in to me, drifting in and out of a very restless sleep while time stood still. They brought me a breakfast that I chose not to eat, because puking sucks and I didn’t trust myself not to do so. Adam sat with me and worried, I assume, but I think he felt better that I was at the hospital than if I was at home being sick. He didn’t sleep, and hadn’t slept much before we went in to Emergency. At some point a friend came to the hospital and sat with me in the tiny ER room, sending Adam home to get some sleep. He needed it.

They came to tell me they were going to move me up to a room in the hospital ward upstairs, and that they didn’t know how long I would have to stay. I didn’t like not knowing how long I’d be stuck in the hospital, and continued feeling pretty terrible. There were no windows in the ER, so I had no concept of time. I woke up sometimes and chatted with my friend Susan, but I wasn’t feeling particularly conversational, and kept falling asleep.

Sunday, December 22nd: My very own hospital room

Eleven hours after arriving at Emergency, they finally moved me upstairs to a room. I had seen at least two doctors who didn’t know what was wrong with me, had a couple of vials of blood taken for tests, and had no real answers about anything. But I was glad to be moving into a quieter, private space. It was 2pm.

This is Lyra's Dragon Hookfang. She thought he would keep me company while at the hospital.
This is Lyra’s Dragon Hookfang. She thought he would keep me company while at the hospital.

Susan was still with me when I moved, and let Adam know where I was when he woke up so they could exchange shifts. They continued pumping antibiotics and saline into me, and I continued feeling terrible. I hadn’t thrown up again, but I did have some more diarrhea, which was SUPER FUN when you’re dragging an IV around with you to the toilet. Plus I had my period to deal with, just to complicate matters more — extra cramping, general discomfort, and a nasty headache on top of all the rest. The nurse gave me some Tylenol for the headache, which helped, and Adam brought my hot water bottle with him to the hospital when he returned, which was good for the cramps.

I ate the first of my hospital meals — a turkey cutlet and some potatoes and vegetables. It was everything you expect from hospital food.

Adam left around 7pm after bringing me a dragon from Lyra to keep me company, and my friend Jenn came over at 7:30 for a short visit.  I had been going through some nasty nausea post-dinner and wasn’t sure it was staying down. Fortunately for everyone it did.

That night I slept in a few uncomfortable shifts, waking up because the IV was uncomfortable, or when the nurse came in to check my temperature and blood pressure, or give me more antibiotics. At one point I had a fever again, so the nurse gave me some more Tylenol to help bring it down again.

Monday, December 23rd: How long do I have to stay?

Jenny and Lyra in the hospital
Family time in the hospital bed.

I woke up to a hospital breakfast of scrambled eggs and moist toast and some more antibiotics that left a terrible taste in my mouth. I had not puked in a long time, but I still had liquid stools, which were really not much fun.

A doctor came in to see me, and told me that they still didn’t know what I had, but my tests would probably take another 24 hours to get all the results, so I was going to be staying for at least one more night, possibly more.

Adam somehow found people willing to help with the girls, since he had to work — and by somehow found people willing, I mean had people offering to help from all corners. Lyra mostly spent the day with him, since she could entertain herself as needed, but a friend took Pandra for the day (and then kept her for the night so Adam could get a real night of sleep).

Another friend, Steve, came to spend the day with me in the hospital, which was above and beyond what was necessary. I appreciated having company, though. It was nice to have someone to talk to in my little room. Adam and Lyra came by for a lunchtime visit, and then came by again at the end of the day to hang out with me before visiting hours were over.

I had Adam phone the other Hospital, Royal Columbian, to tell them what was going on with me at Eagle Ridge. My medi-port surgery was scheduled for the next morning at 9am, but I didn’t really think it was going to happen, all things considered. Royal Columbian called Eagle Ridge and spoke to my nurses and doctor, who then came and talked to me about it.

They told me that, if I wanted to go through with it, they could send me to RCH under a patient transfer, where they would take over my care. I didn’t much like the idea of moving hospitals, and my stomach was still not right. The more I thought about going through with a (albeit minor) surgery while still trying to recover from the cold and fever, the less I liked it. I told the doctor that I really didn’t feel up to going through surgery after everything, and he agreed that it was probably for the best to put it off.

Otherwise, it was a quiet day, filled up mostly with random conversation and really hating the taste that the antibiotics left in my mouth. You take the bad with the good sometimes. A few people joked about getting some time away from the kids to rest, and it was somewhat true, but they all knew as much as I did that I’d rather be at home.

That night I had a lot of trouble getting to sleep, and really started feeling like the antibiotic was messing me up as much as everything else. I still had the diarrhea issue, but no nausea any more, and no throwing up. I woke up often throughout the night, though, and it was not nearly as restful as one might hope for. I spent a good part of the night on the internet after failing to fall asleep.

Tuesday, December 24th: Christmas Eve

I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling almost human again and ate another hospital breakfast. I also hadn’t had a fever all night, which made me happy — no fever meant a higher chance of going home, and being home for Christmas.

We had completely missed our opportunity to do our last-minute Christmas shopping. We were going to go on Sunday, but my hospital visit threw that off. We got lucky though; friends ran errands for us, delivering groceries and some Christmas treats for the girls. But I was ready to go home, and be at home with my family, and I think they were ready for me to come home. I anxiously waited for the doctor to show up and give me an update.

He arrived around 9:30am or so and told me that they hadn’t found any C. Difficile in my tests, and no signs of any bacterial infection, so I could come off the antibiotics (yay!). He also said my bloodwork came back saying that my white blood cell count was really good, especially for someone on chemo. There were some other tests that would take about a week to come back — for different parasitic infections — but he didn’t think that would end up being an issue for me. So basically I just got hit, really hard, by a viral infection that gave me a fever. And fevers are bad for me while I’m on chemo, which was why we went to the hospital in the first place.

Since none of the tests came back saying anything really bad, the doctor told me I could go home any time. I thanked him and sent a message to Adam letting him know that I could come home, and he should come get me soon. He was as happy as I was, and said he’d be there within the hour, so I started getting my stuff together and cleaning up my room.

The happiest moment was when the nurse took out my IV. I was so tired of that IV. I was tired of the antibiotics making me feel crappy. And I was tired of hospital food. I wasn’t yet 100% better energy-wise — I was tired and still felt crappy, but not nearly as terrible as I had a few days before. When Lyra and Adam arrived to bring me home, I was glad to leave the hospital. They were really quite nice and treated me well while I was there — all the nurses were kind and friendly, and I never felt like an inconvenience, even though they had to put on extra protective gear (goggles and a paper robe and gloves) just to come into my room so that I wouldn’t get more sick from them. The doctors were also pleasant and easy to talk to. I would recommend Eagle Ridge Hospital to anyone who needed care.

And so I got to go home for Christmas Eve with my family, and was home for Christmas day. I wasn’t stuck in the hospital on Christmas day, and for that I was thankful. A lot of friends came through for us, either visiting me or helping Adam with the girls or delivering groceries or whatever else needed to be done, and they were awesome. It’s impossible to thank them all enough.

Christmas itself was quiet and laid-back. I still wasn’t feeling normal, so we kept things really low key. We had a tasty turkey dinner at yet another friend’s house on Christmas day. It didn’t really feel much like Christmas for me, but I did my best not to dwell on it.

Next Christmas, though, is going to be absolutely amazing. And there won’t be any hospital food.

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Riding my bike to conquer cancer

Today was my second chemotherapy cycle of eight. It went smoothly, although my arm is a little bit sore from the IV drugs. I’m looking forward to getting my port installed so I can upload the chemo drugs more efficiently and with less burnination of the countryside (aka my veins).

So I’m doing fine, and the doctor and nurse figure my hair will start falling out in clumps very soon with this treatment. Things are progressing as they should.

The Ride

For the past few years, my good friend Elijah has been taking part in the British Columbia Ride to Conquer Cancer. The first year, he was not a long distance cyclist and I watched him train and fundraise like crazy until he was ready. And then he did it, and was awesome. And then he kept doing it year after year, and I remained impressed.

When I had lunch with him early on during my cancer diagnosing phase, he told me I should join him in the 2014 ride. I had joked in the past that I might do just that someday, but I was honestly terrified of the fundraising requirement — $2500 minimum to be able to join the ride. They take their fundraising seriously, and I was severely intimidated.

With cancer and chemotherapy looming ahead of me, I thought about that barrier, and the fact that I don’t own a road/commuter bike anymore (another barrier) and thought, hey… why not? When I couldn’t come up with a real reason beyond those to things I was afraid of (raising $2500 and budgeting for a bike), I realized that they were just that — fears — and if I could get through the cancer and chemo experience, budgeting and fundraising would be a breeze.

So I said yes.

BC Ride to Conquer Cancer

I am now fundraising and thinking about what bike to buy and trying to put aside money for said bike and thinking about training for a 200 km ride over two days from Vancouver to Seattle. The ride isn’t until June, so I have time to finish my chemo and do some solid training, once I get a bike. I’ve nearly met the $2500 minimum, and if I do I will increase my personal goal and do my best to meet it before June.

This is important to me because so far science has done a bang-up job of figuring out what’s wrong with me through some amazing diagnosis tools and tests, an impressive collection of anti-cancer drugs with a side order of anti-nausea drugs, and a whole team of incredibly awesome people — doctors and nurses, researchers, social workers, dietitians, pharmacists, and so many more — whose jobs are to cure me. I want to give back to the science that has done so much for me, and I need your help to do it.

After kicking cancer’s ass, riding 200 km in two days will be so easy. Right? Right?

I hope so. If nothing else, I feel inspired to get there. If you’d like to help, please consider a donation… and thank you to everyone who has helped me get this far.

After chemotherapy: A week on

My first week post-chemotherapy is winding down. I have reached a level of tiredness that goes beyond what I would have ever called ‘tired’ before. It’s almost like I can feel myself physically breaking down internally, and there is nothing much I can do about it but ride out the wave until I reach the shore.

But let’s back up a bit.

Monday was chemo day. I already told you all about that. Tuesday was my first recovery-from-chemo day, wherein I stayed home and relaxed. I went out for an hour with Adam to run errands and felt reasonably well, all things considered. I declared Tuesday a resounding success in handling chemotherapy, and decided to go in to work the next day.

Outside the hospital after my chemotherapy on Monday
Outside the hospital after my chemotherapy on Monday

Wednesday morning, I woke up on time and took my meds, and then made it out the door in time for my train. I was in a good mood; going to work made me feel like things were still somewhat normal, even if they’re not. The anti-nausea medicines did a great job of managing things. The first weird side-effect I noticed was that, after riding the commuter train in to work, my ears got blocked up and wouldn’t equalize. It lasted for about an hour and then went away.

Taste had already started to go away by this point, but it wasn’t completely gone. I went for a meat-fest of lunch with my co-workers at a Southwestern BBQ restaurant, and did my best to increase my protein and iron intake. It was good. The after lunch food coma was partially due to the amount of meat ingested, but by 3:00 p.m. Internally, my mind was muddled and my brain felt sluggish. I was feeling drawn and tired, so I abandoned my post and fled for home.

I still felt all right enough to go in to work on Thursday morning, however. Once again, the train ride made my ears block up for an hour. I noticed that food was remarkably flavourless, including strong flavours like goat cheese and bacon, but I enjoyed my bacon breakfast sandwich anyway. My day went by, and I was tired early and fled for home once again. I noticed that my mouth was hurting a bit, although I hadn’t developed any mouth sores thankfully – there was just a dull ache in my gums and jaw. And I was more tired than I had been the day before.

Friday, Adam and I had plans to meet at lunch and go for a tour of the TRIUMF Cyclotron at UBC, so I went in to work for the morning. I was noticeably more tired by mid-morning on Friday, and the plugged up ears kicked in and didn’t go away for the majority of the day. By the time we had arrived home after what turned out to be a very long day that included eating at wonderful Burgoo, I was completely exhausted.

Approaching limits

Saturday was harder. My energy has hit an all-time low. I honestly can’t remember a time when I felt quite the way I do now; I suppose that’s because I’ve never been here before. I made pancakes and sausages for breakfast, ate with the family, and made my way to the couch where I lounged until it was time for a children’s birthday party.

The birthday party was easier than it could have been. I played wallflower and sat on the floor while Adam chased Pandra around and Lyra played along with the party games. It felt a little weird for me, though. Parties are already awkward and strange, and feeling listless doesn’t help so much. I was beyond the point of feeling like the stealth cancer girl anymore.

At home in the afternoon, I lounged on the couch some more while my children ran amok. It was beyond exhausting, so that was about all I managed for the rest of the day.

That was the first time, really, that I felt like things were difficult… that I really felt the potential for this process to become a challenge. Finally, everything had started to feel really hard. I was sluggish and and tired, and I didn’t care if anyone could tell. I didn’t have even have the energy to feel guilty about Adam single-parenting our kids for much of the day. At some point it just doesn’t have any impact anymore.

Sunday fun

Fortunately, I feel a lot better today than yesterday. The underlying exhaustion hasn’t gone away, but spending much of yesterday resting means that today I don’t feel as immediately wrecked as before.

This is a good thing, because this afternoon we’re going to have a party and shave my head before the hair starts falling out on its own in clumps. I have a lot of hair, and it is very thick. I’d rather it not clog my drains… plus, I have always wanted a good excuse to shave my head, but I’ve never had the nerve to follow through.

I like throwing parties. They are generally haphazardly planned, often without much lead time for guests, and they always seem like they could easily be a huge failure. Somehow, though, things work out in my favour: people show up, and there’s enough food and drinks, and everybody has a good time. I take the ‘if you build it, they will come’ approach, and so far it hasn’t steered me wrong.

That’s what today is. I’ve invited random people (and probably forgotten some, oops) and said ‘just show up and bring some food, or don’t bring food, it’ll be fine.’ My head will be shaved by whomever wishes to make the attempt (multiple times, maybe) and if anyone else feels like shaving their heads they can (although that’s not the point).

We’re getting together to celebrate. I won’t let a bit of chemotherapy and cancer prevent me from having a good party with my friends. Moping about never solved anything.

Of course there will be photos.

Another day, another brain dump

Saw an old Toronto friend tonight – we drank coffee and rambled about the state of the world, and where we are now. I seem to be going out a lot lately after work, and it’s a bit exhausting, but I think I need it for sanity at the moment. Still, I’m not doing enough fun things for me lately, and I’m definitely not getting enough exercise. I don’t know how to fix it yet, though… I have a lot of trouble motivating myself, and even more trouble asking other people to help me out with it. I think if I’m answerable to someone else, it helps a lot.

I’m just not great at using a long term reward as motivation.

Because I was told to

and I like to do what I’m told.

When you see this, take a minute and share five good things of your day with the world, uncut.

1. Lyra is no longer feverish or sick, and has returned to her usual cheerful self.
2. It’s been raining for a couple of days, which makes the air smell good and makes me feel happy.
3. Adam is in the bedroom lying down with Lyra who is fussy and refusing to sleep alone, which means I am currently free to sit at my computer unfettered. Sweet, sweet freedom.
4. I’m about to make a cup of tea, which will fill me with contentment.
5. I had coffee and donuts with a friend this morning, which was just awesome.

You may now share your 5 good things with me, if you are so inclined.

Ontario, May 9th-21st

Adam, Lyra & I will be visiting Ontario for a bit in a couple of weeks. We discovered a seat sale that basically saved us 1000$ over going in August as previously planned, so we jumped on it. We fly into Toronto on the 9th in the evening, and will stay in North York for a couple of days at least. If anyone wants to see us in that time, please get in touch. We will be making plans with Adam’s Toronto family (I’m leaving that up to him to do) but will try to work around that schedule to see our friends before we head up to New Liskeard.

If, on the other hand, you are in New Liskeard, I imagine we will see you around. It’s not that big a place. If there is something specific you want to do with us there, let us know and we’ll figure it out.

Getting back on two wheels

Tonight I went biking in Port Moody with Maryn and Steve. It wasn’t a very long ride, and it wasn’t a super difficult trail. I’m out of practice and have lost my biking legs to some degree, however, and I’m still trying to get the hang of my Nomad, so shorter and easier was what I was looking for. Steve, who is awesome to ride with, stayed back with me and led the way, letting me know what was ahead on the trail and waiting up for me when I got freaked out by shadows and such. The trail itself was flowy, and covered in dirt instead of eroded down to the rocks like most of the North Shore is.

Basically, it was awesome.

The weather was perfect for an evening ride – sunny and a bit cool. We started at seven so it was late enough in the day that the sun wasn’t intensely bright or excessively hot. We cheated on the ride up – Maryn convinced her husband to drive us to the meeting point with our bikes. I went to the box, and then I felt shame. There was a pleasant, leisurely ride to the trailhead through the forest, which was quite lovely. The trail itself was in a remarkably pretty area. At one point I stopped with Steve and we looked at the pattern of the sun, painting gold through the trees and on the ground like it does in the evenings on the mountainside. It was beautiful, and made me wish I had brought my camera. Steven pointed out that we could see the water through the trees as well – and where in the area could you get that? I mentioned maybe riding up Burnaby, but really, Burnaby Mountain is nowhere near as lovely as Eagle. Burnaby still feels like city to me – Eagle doesn’t, even though the city of Port Moody is not far away.

So while I didn’t quite reach that zone where riding is the only thing that exists (I kept getting distracted by my brain talking too much… must smack it around a bit and get it to shut up when I ride) I did have a good, fun ride, and I started to feel a bit like I was getting used to my new bike. Finally. I forget, when I’m not riding, why I like riding so much. I forget, when I’m riding annoying trails I don’t like, why riding is so much fun when I’m on trails I like. I’m incredibly happy that Adam took care of Lyra tonight and let me go out to Port Moody for a ride. I’m starting to remember how to enjoy it. I want to go back and ride some more.

Spring hopes eternal!

It’s been raining the past two days. This isn’t particularly strange, since it’s spring and all. We had a nice day on the weekend, however, so I made sure to get out in the sunlight. I took a good long walk with a friend in Port Moody during the day, and called it training for the Sun Run. Since I’ll be walking the Sun Run, that’s really not an unrealistic statement.

Lyra has been teething like mad the past couple of weeks, but I think she’s starting to come out of it. For much of last week, she was getting cranky and irritated by around dinnertime – requiring extensive cuddling time, which for Lyra means “YOU MUST NEVER PUT ME DOWN.” She’s a pretty cuddly girl at the best of times. When she’s unhappy, I basically have to be willing to forfeit my individuality and accept that she is attached quite firmly to me. It keeps her happy, however, and considering the pain she must be in during those nasty teething times, I’m entirely willing to do so. She now has two bottom teeth and two top teeth, and she can get around the apartment rather effectively. She’s probably a day or two away from proper crawling. In fact, as I type this, she’s on the hardwood floor in the crawling position, pushing herself backwards and sliding along the floor. I think she’s actually trying to sit up and having some trouble with it. I’ll have to rescue her.

One rescued and happy baby… who is now looking at the cat food & water dishes again. I may have to come up with another place to put those…

This morning I had plans to get coffee with Maryn and then maybe go to baby songtime at the Library, but as it turned out, Maryn ran into heavy traffic on the way to the North Shore, and Lyra didn’t take her morning nap on time so she was falling asleep by the time baby songtime was supposed to start – but refusing to actually sleep. Fortunately, Maryn did eventually arrive and we got coffee. I put Lyra in the stroller (she hadn’t napped yet) and she ended up falling asleep there, so I took her for a walk around to the market for groceries after Maryn had headed back to PoMo for work.

Maryn and I are working on a project. We are hoping that Anne will also be interested in working on it, and anyone else who’s interested once we have it fleshed out a bit more. Right now it’s TOP SEKRIT!

I’m anxious for better weather to become more consistent. I look forward to getting back on my bike and heading to the trails.

Perhaps I am evil…

So oki_v2 arrived here around noon. I had somewhat forgotten that he was coming up for a visit, and when my friend Brooke called me yesterday afternoon to find out if I could go for a ride, I was all excited and got a babysitter for Lyra (since Adam had to work) and said yes.

Poor, poor Oki.

Anyhow, Oki arrived at noon. I offhandedly asked him if he wanted to go for a bike ride with me. I’m pretty sure his mind went ‘recently had a baby, should be fine’ and he said “Sure!”

Oh yeah, I’m evil.

J came by to watch Lyra, then Brooke arrived and we tried to fit three bikes into her little CR-V. Somehow we managed, and Oki followed us in his own car down to the Inter River park. I had assured him that we were going on a beginner shore trail – the Richard Juryn Memorial trail, to be precise.

It starts with a nice mellow ride up. Oki doesn’t bike, so it wasn’t such a mellow ride up for him. Poor guy had cramping legs on the first uphill bit. Later there’s a hike-a-bike, then you get to ride down through some mildly technical rooty and bumpy bits, and then a gravel path out. I’d say he performed admirably considering he’s never mountain biked before, and I put him on a hardtail to start. From what I saw he never totally bailed, although he did run into a tree or two, and fell forward onto the bike frame once or twice.

Easy on the shore is still fairly challenging for those who don’t ride.

As for me, it was my second ride on that trail this week. My uphill stamina was much improved, and I was fairly confident on the downhill… and I didn’t even have armour on! I am kind of achey now though, used muscles that are out of shape.

Now Oki’s on his way back home. He left around 9pm. Crazy lad… it’s going to be a long drive back, and if I’m achey he’ll be downright sore.

Yep, I’m evil.