Post-chemotherapy Day 1

    ‘Healthy’ as it were. After two and a half years of drugs, I have finally reached a finishline. Not many words can sum up how I feel at this exact moment – mostly due to the fact that I have still yet to process everything. Although, I don’t think that I have emotionally processed anything during the past two and a half years of my life.. so I guess it makes sense that I lack a sense of closure for the time being.

Post VAD Day 1

    Finishing cancer treatment on January 29^th (post-chemo day 1) was as anti-climactic as anticipated. I washed down my last chemo-cocktail pills with a celebratory glass of wine, then went out for pasta with the family. It was a happy day no doubt, but the degree of relief did not quite bear up to the 2.5 years of pain and anxiety that preceded it. The pill box was empty, the congratulatory support was overwhelming and the pasta was delicious. Although, this long-awaited finish date was nothing but that: a day with such connotative significance, built-up over 2.5 years, that when it actually arrived, I don’t think I had the stamina to fully digest it - but the pasta went down fine. How does one process ‘no longer having cancer'? It's a pill not easily swallowed - mind you slightly easier than swallowing the 'having cancer' pill.
It had come out of nowhere, sucked up my life, took what it wanted, left what it didn't, pulled at my hair (literally), tossed me around, and spit me back out with no sense of remorse. And just like that.. I take my last chemo pill, which was much easier to swallow than the idea itself. 

    Well, it wasn’t until yesterday – hopefully my last ‘long’ hospital day – that I came home having processed, acknowledged, and accepted all that had just happened. The forthcoming realization left me with no reaction except “did that just happen?”

    Despite having taken my last chemo drug a week prior, I was called in to the hospital last minute to get my VAD removed. VAD remember? The foreign object inside my ribcage, which has slackly imparted me the title, ex-machina:

“… all thanks to my wonderful, ‘bionic-woman-like’ VAD. It’s all quite exciting!!! .. If you’re one to get excited about biomedical ventricular engineered ports. But it really is amazing. When I was first diagnosed, they surgically placed an access port under my breast that’s directly connected to a small tube they ran underneath my skin. It goes up all the way through near my neckline where it can access and pump blood to the rest of my body. Aside from a small poke to access the line, treatments and blood tests have been completely painless; so to speak. “

-                 Serena Bonneville, Induction phase chemotherapy treatment, October 28^th 2013

    There was something about going back to the OR and removing a piece of plastic from my body that just got me right riled up. Maybe it was that I had grown emotionally attached to this toonie-sized lump, or that it had always been my body’s main facilitator for my IV chemo-cocktails – a part of me which had served with the only purpose of accepting and dispersing liquid cancer-killers into my body.

    Or maybe it was the IV fentanyl, the T-3’s or the lingering anesthesia; all I know is that waking up post-surgery with the absence of a lump under my boob struck a chord of emotional closure for the first time since finishing treatment.

My body is back to normal? The stomach churning chemo-cocktails flushed from my bloodstream and the foreign object that transported them, gone. No physical trace of the cancer fighters that once were. Although realistically, it is going to take my body time to recover from the surgery, some time to fully detox, and god knows how much time until I actually start feeling like myself again. Deteriorating under chemo’s tyranny for so long has left me with little knowledge as to what my ‘normal’ is or was. So like I said on my first day of chemo, (although this time with more confidence, joy and optimism) I’ll be taking it day by day.

    Expressing too much happiness to really put into words, knowing that things can only really go up from here – except for pasta, that commemorative dish set a new bar for food, which has left all my meals since seeming inadequate.

    Not sure what happens next, but I will continue to share and document my post-chemo adventures. Thankful for all of the support, from you, my friends, and most importantly, my family.

Breeding optimism a little easier than before,

-      - Serena Bonneville

Chapters and Books; Scenes and Films

This New Year holds significance to many, for reasons which I am sure vary far past trivial conventions. I would consider myself one of many. As I inch closer to my last treatment on January 29^th, a date that still seems fanciful, I am reminded of another date: June 22^nd, 2014 otherwise known as “my graduation.” The day that we have all, as a community, agreed to mark the end of Said chapter in our life and the beginning of said new chapter. I cant help but to critique such an odd belief that we all attach to this custom of graduation– it is much like that of the New Year: New beginnings, new resolutions, new chapter. And much like how graduation, for me, felt like a bridge that was never crossed, so did the new years and “new chapters” that trailed on behind it. But man that’s much too dark for my liking – just because I haven’t had the luxury of fresh starts and new beginnings lately, does not mean I have missed out. Like I say, this New Year is anticipated (with high hopes) to mark the first “fresh start” I have had in quite a while. Much like in pretty Woman or My Fair Lady, I’m hoping for the future turn of events to play out rather pleasantly. Although I may not share many situational commonalities with Julia Roberts or Hepburn, I like to think that my fresh start will have some comparable “glamour-like” qualities to it – although they will be less physically visible from those ladies, given that my looks and wardrobe will probably remain as is.

But everyone has their “difficulties”/“rough patches”/"curve balls" – their own reasons and longing for a fresh start. Whether it comes in the form as trivial as a graduation or NYE, or as customized as treatment finish dates, the point is that these new beginnings really cannot come a second sooner.

Chapters in our lives will start and end at their own leisure and not by our own hands – one of those darned happenings in life that can’t seem to stick to a conventional rhythm. 2.5 years and I’d say it’s about time for my chapter to come to a close.

Looking forward to a new year, as I am sure we all are J As I compare the current chapter of my life to that of an early 1900s Flower Girl and a troubled prostitute, I will as always, continue to breed optimism

-          Serena Bonneville                

Bambi legs and Neverland

After more than two years of tolerating the cancer-killing drugs, I can only blame Murphy’s Law for the complications that I’m having now with merely 3 months to go. Yes, despite my complaining about the ghastly side effects, my body thus far has had no real unexpected issues with chemotherapy – until now.

But of course, it’s nothing I can’t handle and something that I probably incited with my own ignorance. One of my maintenance chemo drugs, prednisone (the one that I can thank for giving me moon face, weight gain, ridiculous-pregnant-like cravings and a bottomless stomach) also has warning for side effects of weakening the joints. Woopdy-frigen-doo, I have mutating killer cells threatening to take over my body and here I am supposed to be worried about a little achiness in my knees?

“POPPYCOCK!” – I respond to this dust-bunny of a side effect like Mr. Darling does to stories of Neverland. So much so that when I began to take notice of “my weak knees” it was such a pitiful issue that I may have put off mentioning it to anybody.. for a little longer than I should have … Being in maintenance and only having monthly hospital chemo visits – with very tolerable after-effects of nausea and fatigue – I was really starting to feel a bit like myself again. I guess somewhere along the way I started to overestimate the physical state of my body: Taking on regular day-to-day activities, full course load at school, exercising every day; It was easy to overlook my (still) current state as a “chemo patient” because the reality was practically in reach. But nonetheless, this ignorance was most likely to blame now for the severe weakness of my joints and thus, I take two steps back: reduced course load, no exercise prioritizing rest, and no exercise. I say that twice because, as an athlete who seemed to be at least inching toward recovering the physical state that I was once in, hearing that I have to cease all attempts at reviving my athleticism has led to frustration. POPPYCOCK. ABSOLUTE POPPYCOCK.

Of course with three months to go (everyone knock on wood) All I have to say is that once that finish line has been reached, this body better make up for its years of dormancy. I have a build-up of athletic energy you would not believe.

So now I wait – more impatiently than ever before – sitting on my butt and resting my useless bambi-like knees. I guess I should be grateful that this has been the only major side effect that’s required unexpected attention (Overworking my joints now could lead to severe long term damage: knee replacements, etc.) I go in tonight for an MRI, assuring that no further medical attention is needed. I’d tell myself not to worry, “you’ll break a leg!” but some jokes are better left unsaid.

Hopeful that the MRI shows no permanent damage while trying to put this POPPYCOCK of a side effect in perspective. 

Apologies for the gap in postings, but I promise that I am – as always – breeding optimism.   

Forza Italia

Feeling like a true Italian at heart lately.

Steroids (Predisone to be exact) have been a focal chemo drug during this extensive maintenance phase. I’ve been taking the high dose medicine each month for five consecutive days, but for some reason, the effects never seem to wear off.

But as I’ve mentioned in the past, this powerful-food loving drug has just as many pros as it does cons. The constant need to be satisfied by each consumption of food is as strenuous as the demand for lengthened slumbers and rest. In fact, since taking this drug not once have I gone to a restaurant without first inspecting its menu. Not once have I left a morsel of food on my plate after scarfing down my thoroughly calculated order. And as I once expressed this love of food through my cravings of Triple O’s burgers’ and pickles and cheese, I once again cannot stress how much Prednisone makes me love food. It’s hazardous.

Even though I lack gauge of fullness, thanks to these steroids, and have had to deal with crazy weight inflation's, I find that it is all justified when I take a bite of my meal, and am brought to a place of satisfying bliss. No exaggeration, the consumption of my next meal is what gets me out of bed.

“How do you ‘forget’ to eat? My entire day is planned around what I am going to have for breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, and in between.” – The Diary of Nonna’s

With only 5 months left of treatment (knock on wood), I am wondering how I’ll adapt to life without food obsession and cravings – or if I even want to... All I know is that the most prominent side effect I’ve experienced over the past several months of Maintenance has been hunger. Appetite. Incessant snacking.

Probably the most fortunate side effect I could ask for.

Feeling like a true Italian with a bottomless stomach, mangiare mangiare, keeping Nonna happy, breeding optimism,

-        Serena Bonneville J  

Disarray and Plot Twists

Pray you never feel the abrupt rush of panic when looking back on your life – as an eighteen year old - and already finding yourself asking what if?. That feeling when your story line doesn’t fall parallel to that of Boyhood or your coming of age experiences don’t meet up to the standards of John Hughes. I was always a long-term planner who did whatever it took to mimic the happy life of a Molly Ringwald character, and live out all my passions through into my golden years. I knew what made me happy and If I found myself veering even slightly off my home-grown plan, I’d simply stop what I’m doing and change it.    

So looking back on an unaligned, inconsistent and scattered storyline has left me with nothing but sheer fright. A horrific reminder that no matter how adventurous or innovative your friends are, YOU WILL NEVER LIVE OUT THE PLOTLINE OF THE GOONIES. Its a slap in the face.

I hadn’t realized how detrimental life’s curve ball of the past 2 years has really been on my story. How much it has shattered my allusion for what I thought would be my future now. But regardless of the panic I feel as I look back and wonder what if, I have in turn come to worry less about the future and how to control it. Like how Robin Williams stands up on his desk in Dead Poets Society to “look at things in a different way”, I can now look at tomorrow - and the day after, and after – without fear of disorder and turmoil. Hell I welcome lack of structure.

Because the coming of age story lines that throw massive curve balls, are always the best ones anyway.

Realizing why fiction movies are called "fiction," and as always, breeding optimism,

- Serena Bonneville :)

Girl, Interrupted

This month in Film studies (words I find myself saying much too frequently…) I learnt how director Alfred Hitchcock incorporates his iconic MacGuffin’s into his films and how they impose distinctive significance to storylines. For those of you who aren’t familiar, a MacGuffin

 “…is a plot device in the form of some goal, desired object, or other motivator that the protagonist pursues, often with little or no narrative explanation; a MacGuffin is typically unimportant to the overall plot.” – Wikipedia

I like to think of a MacGuffin, therefore, as a mere distraction: Something put forth by the director to distract the viewer from the driving purpose of the film; something that offers no explanation or reasoning; something that the film could still subsist without and that’s existence only helps develop the given story.

As my first year at University comes to a close (only a month left of school before exams) I can’t help but believe that these upcoming months will be yet another step into the real world and my new life as an adult. Although I am still in treatment, I feel the healthiest that I have since being diagnosed and can better anticipate the experience of my “adult-life” that lies ahead. However, I can’t help but wonder how heavily my diagnosis has influenced this future – where I’d be now if it weren’t for this MacGuffin that some higher-power (for the lack of a better word) decided to throw into the middle of my story. How much has it really affected the overarching purpose? How dominant has this distraction become? As Alfred Hitchcock purposely imposed his MacGuffins without reasoning or explanation, I can only assume that my inexplicable cancer mutant’s similarly exist as a mere development within my story.  

What I have lost as a result, and in some cases gained, are forms of this device which will ultimately contribute to an overall end goal. Cancer is my MacGuffin. With my finish date of January 2016, I hope that this wavering detour will finally come to a close and that the story can move along as it once did – without interruption or distraction.

--> Side note, my weird obsession with food continues as per usual. Recently it's justified cause for a new social networking profile on Instagram: @postcansir.eats

Those of you who have undergone chemotherapy can sympathize with me and this inexplicable obsession. Since force-feeding myself chemo-chemicals for over 2 years, my body seems to have built up an undeniable craving for natural nutrients (My body’s words, not mine). In response and respect to these instincts, I have decided to create this yummy foodie Instagram account. If you would like to be reminded of how yummy food is or want to muster-up some cooking inspiration, checkout my feeble attempt at documenting various food consumptions. Follow on Instagram! @postcansir.eats

Breeding optimism while I wait for this MacGuffin to bid adieu,

-          Serena Bonneville    

 

Run Lola Run

Starting the 12-month countdown. As of January 2015, I’ll have 12 more treatments left of what has seemed like an endless battle. While things should be getting easier, as this final 12 month stage of chemo is less intense, in a truthful simplification, it’s actually been quite the opposite.  

         1)      The effects of the steroids that I take once a month (turning me into a raging, munchie-consuming maniac) accumulate with each dose; meaning each time I ferry back to Vctoria after receiving treatment, the effects of the steroids are more intensified and my meal purchases from Triple O’s are consequently increased more in size – but as always, I view my food cravings as positives.

         2)      The more normalized and routine my life becomes, the harder it is to accept that I am still in the midst of treatment. Each month I come home for my dose of chemo-cocktail, a sense of unease reminds me that “moving on” and “University Life” are mere distractions from a fight that is still very real – void of reassurance.  

In Film class we were asked to analyze Lola Rent – A film about a young girl named Lola who is given 20 minutes to save her boyfriend’s life; when she fails at doing so, she’s able to turn back the clock and try again. The film speaks a larger message – that of time and its limitations. Lola corrects her mistakes with each re-attempt until she’s able to complete her mission, reflecting on how each minor decision we make in life can greatly affect the overall outcome. It’s tough to reflect on a life that you want nothing more than to forget about – to analyse events you wish you could simply erase from your memory. But without looking back and learning from our past, how else are we supposed to grow? I’ve realized that reflection is necessary for acceptance, and in turn, optimism - especially when I’ve got another tough year ahead. And like Lola, I’m hoping that with each month of treatment, I can better learn from the one before. While I don’t have the supernatural ability to turn back time, I’ve got 12-months to learn how to better accept the hardships that come before reaching the finish-line and ways to make this home stretch a little easier.

Lola Rent (Run Lola Run) is a stellar German film that I recommend everyone watch – especially if you’re so inclined to consider new philosophies in life … it ignites some profound thought.

Some positive thoughts, how I plan on staying optimistic during the upcoming year:

         1)      Surrounding myself with awesome people – very easy to do in university. Shout-out to Bryan Froh, one of the best guys out there, who although I haven’t seen in months, still manages to consistently make me smile.

         2)      Surround myself with awesome food – this is a universal tactic, effective even if you’re not on 60mg of prednisone. People underestimate the power of good food: the most convenient source of satisfied happiness.

         3)       Surround myself with movies – for obvious reasons.

Time is a limitation so when life is hard or days are unhappy, there should be nothing more important than pursuing positivity.

With a 12 month countdown to a clean bill of health (knock on wood), I’ll be doing my best to forget that the effects of these treatments will accumulate and I’ll remind myself of little things that will keep me going like a. it’s Christmas in 2 days b. it’s my birthday in 2 days and c. I’ll be feasting on a non-campus, home-cooked family dinner in 2 days. I’ve come too far to lose optimism now.

Forcing myself to reflect in order to look on the bright side, learning from Lola, and as always, breeding optimism,

-          Serena Bonneville :)

Life at a distance, but all the same

Progression is a loaded word; from birth to death, we’re barraged with a series of endeavours that Life throws at us, and our progression through each one delineates our path. As we progress and transition through each occasion in life, we tell ourselves that the past is in the past and that’s where it should stay. Moving on from the breaking of a relationship, evolving and growing as we develop new connections. Affairs come and go and as we adapt to new experiences, we just as quickly accept the dissolution of the ones prior.

This was always my outlook on things, especially transitioning from phase to phase of chemo treatment; putting the pain and discomfort behind me as I got prepared for whatever was set to come next. Similarly, moving to Victoria, resuming my studies, and adapting to a new experience, I convinced myself to loosen the once tight grip I held on memories of my past. But as I progress through this new, assumed chapter, I catch myself being reminded; being momentarily transported back to times that I’ve tried so hard to move away from. In one way or another, we’re all taken back to our past experiences, temporarily transported to a static moment in time. But for me, I’m taking back to a moment that sickens me, and where the knowing of progression that used to be so comforting, is non-existence.

Monthly ferry rides home for treatment, binge eating and face puffiness from steroids, make it difficult to maintain ignorance of my past. I’m reminded that one can’t ever really move on from something as consuming as cancer, regardless of where they stand in or after treatment.

I’m beginning to realize that my diagnosis is something that is not just a part of my life, but just simply, a part of me. As I accept this, I can better find ways to try and turn these reminders of the past into positive things.

Even though it is so easy to adapt to this new, University Life, which seems so distant from my life as a cancer patient, I have to remember that that time in my life has shaped who I am now, and continues to do so. Those experiences (which I’ll strive to look at from a positive perspective) will always be present through my redefined attempts at progression.  

ON A HAPPIER NOTE, loving this new chapter of my life, regardless of the occasional blast from the past. I plan to find ways to weave my diagnosis into my new life in Victoria, maybe infiltrate this new community with some fresh positivity, and as always, breed some optimism.  

- Serena Bonneville

Mind and Body

Never have I been able to feel the progression of my own strength; but after losing, what feels like, every muscle in my body, working out has become much more rewarding. With the combination of being on maintenance and having an abundance of free time, I've been able to establish a full workout schedule; I feel like Million Dollar Baby (minus an incentivising Clint Eastwood figure) 



As I spend my summer days 'training,' I can feel this desolate body creeping closer to revival; undergoing major reconstruction. I'm having to remind myself that while feeling better, I am still undergoing treatment. (As intensiveness as it is) Either way, whipping this body into shape will be a lengthy commitment seeings how my muscles have become accustomed to minimal movement this past year; accustomed to a temporary existence based solely for biological fighting purposes; as if like a test subject that if dare to fail, would shut down completely.

But while my body is jumping back to normal, my mind has also begun to settle back into routine; recognizing more trivial obstacles in life like the transition to university and future decision-making. Most days I forget about my diagnosis all together, but my monthly hospital visits remind me that I still have a year and a half left to go.

Feeling stronger every day and continuing to breed optimism, despite the lack of Clint Eastwood's motivation,

- Serena Bonneville :)


 

Continuing down my path

-         Cancer was somewhat responsible for having ruined my experience of a ‘traditional grad year.’ They always say that the ending of this year is like the ending of a chapter in your life, and graduation is the start of a new one... I’m not the philosophical type but here’s an example, said by someone else who clearly is: 

“close the door to the past, Open the door to future, step on through and start your new chapter in your life.”

-          Well, this analogy isn’t so true with me. I suppose it’s because my chapter ended a little earlier than everyone else’s. Forced to accept a matured perspective on life – apologies for using that phrase so often- But from the moment I was diagnosed, my life has been revolving around my health and that final finish date: January 29th, 2016. After my diagnosis, I made a promise with myself to never look back. Never imagine what could have been or what might have been during my ‘grad year.’ I was put on a new path and my only choice was to follow it through till’ the end. So yesterday at graduation, while everyone was celebrating closing one chapter and starting another, my personal focus was much different. I was celebrating how far down I’ve come on this diverged path. While everyone celebrated their accomplishment of graduating, I was celebrating the current success of my treatment. Graduating was but a mere bunny hill on this new path, a path that started way back in October.

-           I couldn’t have been happier to celebrate with my grad class and my amazing teachers this weekend, as it was the most fun that I had had in a long time. Although it was clear, as we all tossed our hats in the air, that my reasons for celebrating stemmed far astray from everyone else’s, much like the path in which I continue to trek down.

I am now a proud Southridge graduate. As I got ready for the formal grad dinner dance on Sunday, I decided to also be a proud Cancer fighter. 

"No matter what you decide to do in life, always follow through on your actions with confidence." 

I’m not sure where this quote came from ... but I do know that it had a presence in my mind while I decided how to do my hair for grad. (Or how to not do my hair.)

I have just started maintenance a couple weeks ago, a phase in which so far is my absolute favorite (seeings how it is the last.) and as my hair has started to grow back, I’m hardly on any drugs, the timing for grad couldn't have been better. Although I still have a year and a half left on this path, I continue to breed optimism knowing that I have graduated with the utmost support of everyone within the Southridge community. I can’t imagine what my ‘grad year’ would have been like at any other school and I know that graduation wouldn’t have been possible without the amazing teachers that I have had the pleasure of connecting with on such a personal and emotional level.

In spite of everything I’ve been through, leaving Southridge may be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,

But as always, I will continue to breed optimism,

     -          Serena Bonneville (Southridge Alum) 

Mid-Finish-Line

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As I creep closer to this seemingly illusive ‘Maintenance’ mark, I find myself growing more and more impatient. In my mind I’ve already started to act like I’m in recovery so as to prepare myself. But no matter what mental circumstance I put myself in, I am still days away from starting maintenance. In fact, that ‘finish’ date may even move further away.

Finishing up this phase of ‘inter-maintenance’ has been quite easy. Most drugs I’ve taken before and so my body recognises them and almost has a higher tolerance to them. Funny; how nice it would be if our bodies held this same reaction to the cancer cells. How much easier it would be if the more cancer cells attacked you, the bigger tolerance your body could build against them. How miraculous it’d be if after being attacked so many times by cancer, your body could simply recognise the foreign organisms and eventually resist their attacks. It’d be just as common as building our tolerance to alcohol. “Man, she can really hold her cancer eh?”

Stopping that train of thought before it runs too far ... But I have been quite lucky this phase with no seriously bad symptoms. The only problem I’ve had was catching a virus a couple days ago. It’s been pretty brutal fighting it off (I just feel like I’ve come down with a very bad cold). The biggest issue with this is that my ‘maintenance’ mark or ‘mid-finish line’ might have to be pushed back a bit, because I can’t start the next year and half phase unless my body and counts are back to “normal.”

Either way, I am doing everything I can to push through this virus and reach that beautiful ‘mid-finish line.’ I can almost hear it calling my name.

Breeding Optimism and impatiently waiting,

-          Serena Bonneville :)

Good Old David Fincher

You always have a prospect that by your grade 12 year, after graduation, you’d have acquired a certain development of skills, established all your passions and founded talents that would set the stage for your future after high-school.

Up till the beginning of this year, I was beyond satisfied with this expectation. With plans to play varsity, beat the odds to study business, independently set out to build new experiences, while maintaining long lasting relationships along the way, everything I’d worked towards was about to pay off... But things change.

“It’s only after we’ve lost everything, that we’re free to do anything.” – Tyler Durden

I certainly haven’t lost everything... but at this age, lifestyle changes are harder to accept, even if the losses are minimal. And although I can’t entirely familiarize myself with Tyler Durden, I feel as if my series of physical, mental and emotional losses have slowly amended my previous set plans for the future; I certainly don’t feel free to do anything, but my losses have helped to create a clean slate where I can develop new skills, re-establish passions, feel more free to do anything knowing I don’t have much more to lose.  

I don’t plan on blowing up financial sky-scrapers like Mr. Durden, but I do intend to accomplish more than I had planned, before I began to lose what I had.  

“God Damn! We just had a near-life experience, fellas.” – Tyler Durden

Remembering the inspiration of Fight Club, Grinding through my last intenseive phase before maintenance, continuing to breed optimism,

-          Serena Bonneville J

The Fight

Yesterday a fellow teen cancer patient at BC Children’s Hospital passed away. Remembering that death is quite common, I struggled to justify why this had hit me so hard. It wasn’t because she was diagnosed with a cancerous disease like myself and had taken similar drugs, or that she had spent her last days in the hospital where I was only a few floors below her.

I met her for the first time a couple of weeks ago at a teen-oncology-group meeting, although we didn’t talk much. I’d say she looked sick at the time but then again, so did everyone. It wasn’t until today that I realised how much we had in common. She was from Richmond, BC and was only a year older than me. She had an older brother, off at university. The toughest thing to see were photos of her in her soccer uniform, before she was diagnosed; Photos with her teammates, her friends, holding medals and trophies. I thought of myself and realised that our connection grew far past just our common diagnosis, but our lives and similarities before all the obscurities was what brought on emotion.   

Regardless of how it ends, a life spent fighting cancer really sucks; but it makes life spent before the fight all the more meaningful. Every happy moment magnified, every grudge forgotten and the love, unconditional.

Breeding optimism for the ones who have lost the fight against cancer or who have lost a loved one because of it,

- Serena Bonneville :)

3/4

Well things have gotten slightly better as I slowly grasp a hold on this deadening nausea. I go back to the hospital on Wednesday to receive the high concentrated drug for the third time. (3/4) One more visit to go for this phase... Even though it’s gotten easier, I still cannot wait for this phase to be done with! I have started limiting my meals to food specific to helping nausea and vomiting: lots of fruits, smoothies, salads and crackers. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway so when I do eat something, I make sure it’s nutritional.

Recently, I find that most of my time is consumed by University applications ... my god they’re lengthy. I am not sure if any of you cancer patients out there have applied during their time of treatment, but I find it quite the challenge to explain my situation. I mean, how do you elucidate this kind of lifestyle change? I always fall short with these essays. All they want to hear is that I am more than a number, a well-rounded, leading student. So my feeble attempt to show them that usually ends with me posting the hyperlink to my blog because at the end of the day, if they really want to know what kind of student I am, they can read my last few posts and conclude that I am simply an optimist.

Breeding optimism,

-      -        Serena Bonneville J

Tired of Being Sick and Sick of Being Tired

Well I’ve been wanting, for quite some time now, to post another update... but to be honest the days have been rough and the nights have been long. In a nutshell, the past couple weeks have been spent battling through uncontrollable nausea, persisting fatigue ... and a couple other not-so-fun side effects that I’ll leave unmentioned (chemo patients and survivors can understand.)

But rather than go deeper in detail of an evident low point that I seemed to have hit .. I’d rather fill you in on some startling positives. I received my completion date for my entire treatment! As of January 29^th, 2016, I will have finished maintenance-also I will have turned 19-so looking forward to that date... I’ve also sent out applications to some universities, having that hopeful ambition for post-secondary education.

I am set to start maintenance by late May, early June so looks like I’ll be feeling great just in time for grad!... and exams. In my current phase, I’m scheduled for 4 – 5 day hospital admissions on IV drugs with about two weeks off in between. With one under my belt, I’m set to go in for admission again tomorrow.

Those long days in the hospital, I recognise in my mind as hibernation: one where I come out feeling renewed ... feeling better. But of course, as expected, it’s the aftershock of this drug that has really hit me the hardest. I haven’t been at school too much; the unexpected vomiting limits my daily expenditures. And you could imagine how the ‘fatigue’ would put a strain on my  social activities – If you were one to brand me as ‘Lazy-who-stays-in-bed-all-day-watching-movies’ before, you really don’t even want to see me now. But every time I spontaneously fall into a light nap at 4 in the afternoon, I can always picture my life playing out like a movie ... all my pain being miraculously sucked away like in the Green Mile. But then I’d wake up, and realise that this fight against cancer isn’t going to end with some mysterious miracle. It is going to end, hopefully by the assessed date, through the process of taking in a combination of powerful drugs. It’ll end by me battling each symptom; realising that daily nausea and morning vomiting is just part of a phase; accepting that frequent blood tests are necessary and migraines are expected. But when you’re sick, you fight through it all, because you have to; because when you reach the end, it won’t be a miracle, it will be a triumph.

Although I wouldn't say no to a miracle visit from John Coffey to cure me right up...

Looking forward to clearing this phase! Special shout-out to Suzanne, one of my favorite nurse’s, for helping me manage, not just the physical challenges of treatment, but the mental ones as well (also for scoring me concert tickets to Imagine Dragons.) – Suzanne, you are the best and I’m sure every other patient of yours would agree.

Breeding optimism and watching movies as always,

- Serena Bonneville :)

Blood as Red as Wine

Every time I visit the hospital, whether it’s for a transfusion or a chemo-cocktail, I usually get a blood test as well – blood counts reveal a lot about how well my body is reacting to the treatment. They also determine whether I need a transfusion or if I’m ready for the next stage.

Well, last week my oncologist received some interesting news from my blood counts.

As it is the holidays, my family loves to celebrate in the form of dinner parties. These can sometimes get a little crazy, like most dinner parties do. Being of Italian descent, it’s quite normal with these occasions for the kids to enjoy a glass or two of wine with the usual over-satisfying meal. However, it is not quite normal to be going for routine blood tests, like I did the next morning.

For the first time my oncologist had discovered some odd liver functions from my blood counts ...

Even after reassuring her that I did not in fact go on a bender that week, my nurses and physicians in the oncology unit still continue to make fun of me.

God knows how fast gossip spreads at hospitals, it’s worse than high schools. Of course, they’re just relieved that this was a result of wine as opposed to some bodily medical reaction ... All in all, it’s going to be a while before I indulge again at one of our crazy family dinner parties.

On a more serious note, I’ve been drug free for almost two weeks now as I head into the next phase: (Interim-Maintenance). At this rate, I am set to finish around mid-May yay!

 It’s exciting to see the finish line getting closer, but having to say goodbye to the staff at Childrens will be difficult. They continue to build, not just professional, but personal connections with their patients. Oddly enough, it’s what has made me feel so comfortable spending most of my days there. Even after I’ve moved on, I do intend to maintain my relationship with the staff and the hospital whether it’s through volunteer or just friendly visits J.

Hoping this liver function ordeal doesn’t sever any relationships or tarnish my reputation at the hospital..

Breeding optimism thanks to the amazing and personable staff at Children’s

-       -     Serena Bonneville

It's a Wonderful Life

I am alive and well, contrary to my one month absence, I am in fact safe at home after a busy couple of weeks on chemotherapy (stage: consolidation). I apologize for the lack of communication but just as the mental affects of chemo began to wear off, the holidays started.

December proved to be a more eventful month J It started off with migraines and sleep deprivation but that quickly faded off by the end of the first week. The only major side effects were nausea and minor fatigue. Luckily, Christmas was enough of a distraction for me and the excitement of its normality was enough to get through this month with enthusiasm! (Candy canes and shortbread helped too)

Never have I gotten more into the Christmas spirit. When you’re not loaded with stress and end of term exams, it’s amazing how worked up you can get over the minor festivities. We had planned on spending the holidays on vacation in Hawaii, for which we inevitably have postponed (I take full responsibility)... so instead we spent Christmas (and my 17^th birthday) at home with the family. What’s Christmas without the slushy snow and foggy mornings?  

Today’s the last day of 2013, but as I look back to appropriately reminisce on the year, I can recognize nothing but events from the past 3 months.. Which are not fun to reminisce about. So instead I look ahead; never could I have predicted the changes or the situation I’ve landed in, but I intend on moving as far away from it as I can. New Years Resolution: 

Hopefully by next New Years Eve I’ll have landed where I need to be, and can reflect back on the year with confidence and fulfillment. I’ll be like James Stewart in the last scene of It’s a Wonderful Life. 

Breeding Optimism on New Years Eve! (promise to keep persistence with my posts from now on)

-                Serena Bonneville J

Food for Thought

Meals for today:

-         

•       Half a pancake
•       Bowl of grapefruit

-    

Well I’ve transitioned from one extreme to another; my appetite dropped drastically, just 1 week into the second phase. The nausea is consuming, influencing my every decision (including food intake). The other major side affect that I've been coping with over the past couple of weeks has been the repeated migraines.

Even though these phases are intense, their side affects consuming, I can now look back and check two months off of my calendar. Whether this gets harder or easier, I’ve learnt so far that the best way to take on the challenges is to endure them day by day.

Today I haven’t had any chemo drugs. In fact, I haven’t been to the hospital for about a week and have been feeling quite normal; although I go in again soon to finish off the last bit of this phase.

Like I said, two months down, two weeks till the next phase, five months (hopefully) till the end of treatment and 17 days until Christmas.

Breeding optimism,

-         -      Serena Bonneville :) 

Chemo-Cocktail for Consolidation

                                                                       Hair affair ^ 

Out of Induction (phase 1) and into Consolidation (phase 2), my hair barely survived. Although the new drugs on consolidation will result in more chemo-brain, as well as ‘hair loss’, it doesn’t phase me...

Ha! But in all seriousness, I’ve got a tough month ahead of me with this new phase. Consolidation officially started on Tuesday at Children’s hospital when my body began its absorption of this month’s cancer-killers. Although, 3 days in and I haven’t felt the anticipated affects of chemo-brain yet (I say this while knocking on wood.) I plan on taking advantage of feeling normal, as I have been all week; as in going to school and doing non-cancer-patient like things. It feels fantastic.

I drove into the hospital this afternoon to get another injection of cancer-killers through my VAD (This wouldn’t be one of the non-cancer-patient like things).

It’s sardonic, really, how so often in my past I’ve gone to the doctor: I’m sick, He gives me drugs, I feel better. But now, I go to the doctor (oncologist): I’m sick, He gives me drugs, and I am merely confined to the expectance of feeling worse.

My customary assumption, similar to most peoples, was that you get medicine to feel better. For me, this now only remains true to the extent of long term pain as I know that only until the end of my treatment will I feel better, cured and back to normal. But it’s hard to think long term with chemotherapy; I continually am taking it day by day. And within this short term lifestyle, these words, ‘medicine,’ ‘pills’ and ‘drugs,’ have grown to haunt me. What were formerly reassuring words that would bring anticipation of wellness, I’ve now associated with illness, pain and chemo-brain.

       But being optimists, we look at the positive side of things. This phase’s combination of drugs, chemo cocktail, should typically only lower my neutrophils while my hemoglobin’s stay fairly high. For those of you who are of non-sciencey-sort, this means although I will be more prone to viruses, the affects of this month’s chemo-cocktail will leave me with decent energy levels. Yay for more energy!

I would like to mention thanks to Sarah Massah, reporter from Peace Arch News, for writing a humbling article about my story and journey. Also to Kolby Solinsky for another inspiring article, written and posted in the Surrey Leader. Thank you for all the support but more importantly, thanks to all who’ve helped to spread awareness about this disease: it’s all making a difference for future fighters.

Breeding optimism with shorter hair,

             -          Serena Bonneville J

Steroid Withdrawal

"Hey, hey, stay positive, pal.

Most people, they lose,they whine and quit.

But you got to be there for the turns.

Everybody's got good luck, everybody's got bad luck.

Don't run when you lose. Don't whine when it hurts."

-          Michael Douglas, Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

Well, today is my fourth full day off that dreaded prednisone. I went for a bone marrow test today to ensure that this was, in fact, my last week of induction (Results will be in sometime next week). But for now, I’m beyond thrilled to publicize that I have the week off of treatment. As in no drugs, full body recovery before beginning the next phase.  

But looking back, this past week has been a blur; a steroid haze. The days and nights distorted, moments split into mere fragments in my memory and any activities, I recall undertaking with minimal focus and energy. Reflecting on the week, I struggle to highlight the events that occurred in between the naps and the haze: a couple delicious dinner parties, reading half a book, finishing a couple movies (I distinctively remember watching American Beauty: a compellingly twisted film. I highly recommend watching it if you’re on steroids/chemo though, because it’s humanly impossible to lose focus on Kevin Spacey when he’s in the zone.)

The other film I distinctly remember watching was Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps. Michael Douglas quotes in the movie with such poise, “Most people they lose, they whine and quit.” Although in the movie, it’s in complete irrelevant context to my situation, as I processed his words through my chemo brain, I began to realize that his lines were nothing but applicable. Because even though the past week has become a consuming blob of steroid haze, I realized, yes while watching Michael Douglas’s speech from Wall Street, that I can’t sit around and feel sorry for myself. "Everybody's got good luck, everybody's got bad luck. Don't run when you lose. Don't whine when it hurts." 
I can’t become homestead, curl up in a ball and linger on the sideline while my body fights this battle. Whatever physical struggle I have to fight through, I will be mentally fighting harder just so that I remain in control. So this is why I went for a hair cut this weekend ... not in spite of the steroid haze but so that I can mentally remain in control.   

I didn’t get a buzz cut, I decided it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t have the guts to do a Miley Cyrus, call me weak but I don’t think I could rock the bleach. I also chickened out on the Emma Watson Pixie Cut; With the prednisone chipmunk cheeks, I thought the change would be too drastic. I DID manage to lose 9 inches, which for me, was a radical step in itself.

So thank you Michael Douglas.

Even though your intention was to fictionally inspire stock brokers to never give-up the fight to regain power through manipulation of the economy....

Your words motivated me to cut off 9 inches of my hair so that this chemotherapy doesn't mentally take control over my life.

Never underestimate the influence of a well-executed movie monologue.

Thankful to finally be rid of these steroids, looking forward to a drug-free week,

Breeding optimism, as always,

-          Serena Bonneville J