Rockin' It for Homeless Pets

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There is nothing sexier than a man who advocates for the welfare of animals. Except maybe a celebrity, who gives of his time and energy even though he could be off doing whatever rock stars do. Hats off, and big, wet kisses with waggin' tails, to Bret Michaels and his PSA with PetSmart Charities to encourage donations for homeless pets.

Johnathan, 6mo old, looking for a home

We're super-stoked, 'cause some of our very own Almost Home Foundation rescue pups are in this video! Go Bret! And Go, AHF!!



Have a terrific weekend! Enjoy the many blogs in the Saturday Pet Bloggers Blog Hop!

DON'T IGNORE STAGE IV

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WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? STAGE IV DOESN'T HAVE TIME TO WAIT.

1. Visit MBCaware.org and Eisai will donate $1 to Metastatic Breast Cancer research.
2. Sign up for MBCaware emails, and Eisai will donate another $1.
3. "Like" the 'METAvivor' page on Facebook and another $1 will be donated...
4. Share an image on Facebook, Eisai will donate another $1.
5. Follow @METAvivor or Tweet with #MBCaware and another $1 is donated!
6. There is an important video about Metastatic Breast Cancer (MBC) created by METAvivor that is phenomenal. Trigger a $1 donation to MBC research simply by visiting the MBCaware.org website. 
7. Some stats about the Stage IV Community:

CANCER? AIN'T NO GIFT

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My blogging friend Nancy over at the always-insightful Nancy's Point is revisiting the ever-present query of whether or not cancer is a gift. That got me thinking. Is cancer a gift? 

My Big Fat Cancer Adventure began two years ago, when I really did get Cancer for Christmas. But I'm not seeing that shimmer (or is it glimmer?) of warm and fuzzy light at the end of the proverbial cancer tunnel. Every time I round a bend on The Big C Highway, there's a new roadblock in my way, another hurdle to climb over, another hoop to jump through. It is never ending and, as the great Gilda Radner's Roseanne Roseannadanna character famously quipped, "It's always something."

But back to the concept of cancer being a "gift." Is cancer an opportunity to live your life differently? Yup...
... But don't we all have that option, every single day? (Yup.)

Is cancer a wakeup call? Yup. Like stepping into the path of an express train could be considered an eye-opening event, cancer stops us smack in our tracks. Many of us live to tell the tale; many of us do not. All of us are maimed. But am I thankful for the train that is trying to run me over? Nope.

Let's try a different analogy: Does the deer being hunted in the forest think the rifle is a gift? Nope.

(Copyright © CamoGirl_18)

I'm here to tell you that getting diagnosed with cancer is akin to having crosshairs tattooed on your back. You will forever be a target of The Big C. And like the deer, you will try very, very hard to outrun this enemy. You'll attack it with your arsenal of surgery and chemicals and radiation and years of hormone-surpressing pills. You'll fill an emotional moat with your tears. You'll find out all too quickly who your real friends are — and you will take this realization like a bullet to the heart. You'll need a nap every day and be unable to fend off your fears in the darkness of night. You'll experience "scanxiety" any time you have to take any kind of medical test. You'll develop PTSD whenever you walk into a doctor's office (especially at a cancer center) or when you notice a new ache or pain. Of course you'll become an expert on nutrition and additives and the many, many things that are harmful in our environment and you'll try to live a cleaner life. (Good luck with that.) You'll exercise more and eat less. And you'll also pine for the days when you could remember details quickly, concentrate easily, and be motivated in general. You'll curse the necessity of being your own health advocate 24/7, and appreciate your hands-on WedMD degree. You'll wonder how the hell you ever had time to do anything besides go to the doctor and monitor your own health.

Because in the end, it all comes down to this: Cancer is hiding like a hunter in a blind deep within the woods, holding a loaded rifle with its sights set on you and me. 

And that ain't no gift.

STILL NOT A GIFT

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It's been a week since my last blog post, the one in which I answered the question of whether or not I think cancer is a gift.

Cancer is still not a gift.

A number of people commented on that blog post, including Ann, who blogs over at the incredible But Doctor... I Hate Pink — and for whom metastasis to her liver means she will never recover. She writes, "If breast cancer is a gift, I'm notexactly crazy about the wrapping paper. My 'gift' looks like a two year oldwrapped it, then sat on it." Ann is funny that way. No matter what she iswriting about, her pervasive humor seeps into every nook and cranny — every comma, every letter, every word.

But Ann also knows when to get serious, and does so in the rest of her reply: "Since I have cancer of the terminal variety, Ican't think of it as a gift. Three years ago, I was blissfully ignorant of mymortality, imagining my son's high school graduation and future weddings. Now,I am making lists of things I want people to have after my death, and who knewI had so little to, um...gift? I do appreciate my remaining life more, withouta doubt. I am able to ignore the pain more because I still want to enjoy what'sleft for me to enjoy... But, is cancer a gift? No. Cancer is adisease. Learning that I am strong enough to handle it may be a gift, but Ialso could have learned about my strength without having paperwork that says Ihave a year to live. Maybe by changing a tire or something." Getting in the last laugh is most definitely one of Ann's many gifts.

A close friend of mine, M., also replied to my last blog post, offering her [non cancer] take on the whole "gift" thing: "It's extremely arrogant for someone who isnot the person going through the horrible event to call it a gift," she writes. (I totally agree.) "If you are the one who is going throughthis terrible event, then your own state of mind might surely affect yourspirit, your attitude, your feelings, your mind, and ultimately your body." 

Again, agree. The mind/body connection is an important one, and the role our mindset plays on how we feel can not be understated. Stay with me here.

(© Stuart Smalley/Saturday Night Live)

M. continues by posing a question: "It's not making believe that this illness has been a 'gift' like [SNL's] Stuart Smalley looking into a mirror and saying, 'I'm worth it!' but it might be about making a 'choice.'" 

She's right, I know. I technically do have a choice every day whether to feel up or down, mad or sad, glad or grateful, pissed off or ready to party. Until I don't have a choice. How I feel about my cancer experience varies from day to day, week to week, minute by minute. When I wrote that last blog post, I was feeling down, down, down for reasons I hadn't shared with anyone other than Husband, and my special group of online ladies. 

The rash I have been dealing with on my right foob had gotten worse. It has skipped across my right foob and is creeping over to my left. Round, angry splotches, more of them, now evident. I have gone through seven tubes of anti-fungal cream during the course of the seven weeks we've been treating this as though it were ringworm. It is supposed to be ringworm. 

I call my primary care physician, Dr. S., but I'm told I have to wait a month for an appointment. That is not acceptable, I explain. Dr. S. calls me back during his lunch break. I tell him the rash is still there, getting worse. I need to be referred to a dermatologist. I need a scraping done. I need the cells tested and sent to a lab to make sure this is ringworm. He tells me there has been a "cancellation" — can I be there in 3 hours? Gulp. Yes.

I was planning to wrap Christmas presents this afternoon but instead I find myself in a little white paper semi-gown, laying down on the examining table, Husband by my side, Dr. S. wielding a sharp implement of some kind (I couldn't look) to scrape some cells off to sample. But nothing is flaking off. Then I hear him say that ominous doctor word: "Hmmmm." Oh, that is not what I want to hear.

Dr. S. tries scraping again, then pauses. "This isn't ringworm." WHAT? Of course it is! That's what you told me it was! You were so sure it was ringworm!! I don't say this, but I think it. And I start to get mad. I ask the obvious... So what is it then? He doesn't know. But then he says the words that you never want to hear ever again after you've heard them the first time: "We have to rule out a local recurrence. But this doesn't look like breast cancer. And it doesn't look like ringworm. It looks like an allergic reaction. You need to see a dermatologist."

I have to stress here yet again how very, very important it is to be your own advocate. I knew my rash wasn't getting better. I waited longer than I should have to go back in to check it out. I fell into the comfort of denial. Because it's hard to face the fear.

It falls to you, the patient, to make the medical community find the answers you need. It sucks but it's oh so true.

Since I'm in an HMO, I have to wait for a dermo referral approval, and we are now caught up in the rush before Christmas, and here I am, in the same sticky pre-holiday boat that I was in two years ago, trying to get in to see a doctor at the busiest time of the year. 

I come home from the rash scraping and crawl into bed (even though it is still light out, and you know how early that means it is since it gets very dark, very early this time of year). Husband asks if I'm hungry and should he go pick up something for dinner. YES, I tell him. Please. Leave. I need to be alone. I tell him cancer is a real mind-f***. As soon as he is out the door, I start to sob. And the air, once again, is sucked out of the room.

Between my appointment with Dr. S. and waiting for the dermatological referral to come in the mail, I do my best to force the dark thoughts back into the recesses of my cobwebbed mind. And that's when I came across Nancy's blog post over at Nancy's Point asking, "Is Cancer a Gift?" And I sit down at the keyboard and I type out my messy, opinionated missive. 

My friend M. didn't know about my rash getting worse; she was likely wondering why the sudden negativity. She was trying, I know, to make me feel better, to get me to grateful. Then Nancy commented about M.'s comment, saying, "I admire this person for being soaccepting. I really do. I agree that all of our experiences make up who we are.I agree it's all about choice - we move through the challenges of life in thebest way we can. I am grateful for the people I've met, (like you, Renn), andthe new paths I've discovered since my diagnosis, but the words "cancer isa gift" will never come from my lips. They just won't." 

Then Beth Gainer, who writes the awesome blog Calling the Shots, chimed in: "Cancer is certainly no gift, in myopinion. It's a horrifying disease that robs, steals, maims, kills.... 

My lifeis richer after cancer because I realize how precious life is. But that wasbecause I was open to an attitude and life change. I did that, not cancer."

And then Kathi, from The Accidental Amazon, stopped by to add her thoughts on cancer: "I always thought of it as the Stalker." (True dat!)


Finally, Michelle over at Mad Musings, said, "You nailed it. It's no gift. I lost myhusband, mother, sister-in-law, and aunt to cancer all within 1 year. My 3children were robbed of their father and other key people in their lives beforemy youngest was even in school. People constantly told me how inspiring wewere, lucky to be given the opportunity to find such wisdom, etc. Seriously?Lucky? We made the best of the time we had, but we always felt those sights onus, always felt the hunter's presence even when we were laughing. That's nogift. The true gift is never facing cancer, remaining blissfully ignorant ofit. Thank you for saying it straight out." And then she referred me to a blog post she wrote in 2010 in which she expresses the feelings that are familiar to so many of us. 

So here's the thing about being kissed by cancer: It's haunting, unwelcome, and impossible to shove in the closet. The darkness sneaks in at the slightest provocation. I can't control it. It's like trying to shut down a panic attack. You just gotta ride the wave.

Normally I reply to reader comments right away — mainly because I'm thankful anyone reads this little Big C blog and I want you to know I know you're there and that I appreciate your taking the time to spend even a little time here. But because I was worried about my rash, and not really knowing what to feel, I was kind of stumped. I needed time to process the comments. And while I was processing, the Newtown school shootings occurred. My troubles no longer felt very relevant.

Then I read a Huffington Post article by the lovely Lisa Bonchek Adams, another fine breast cancer blogger I have been following as she, too, navigates the murky waters of metastasis. And lo and behold, as I'm reading, there are those five words again: Cancer is not a gift.

As Lisa writes, "I am treating my cancer but I cannot cure it. I have no way of knowing yet if I will be someone who responds well to treatments or not. So I proceed as if I think it will. I try to dispel myths along the way. Five years without a recurrence doesn't necessarily mean you're done with breast cancer. Cancer is not a gift. You're not always given what you can handle. Things don't always happen for a reason. You don't always get what you deserve."

Amen to that. And please send healing thoughts and prayers to Lisa and Ann and all the women with mets dealing with a shortened life due to Damn Cancer.

Post Script: Yesterday I got in to see the dermatologist. He was a nice enough guy — very quick with the razor though. (Thank goodness for the small miracle of having desensitized feeling in my foobs!) At first he said, "This doesn't look like ringworm." Scrape, scrape. "It looks like dermatitis." Scrape, scrape. And then, "I think this does look fungal!" They put my skin cells in a tube, where they'll hang out and grow for three weeks until I see him again. In the meantime, I'm to use a steroidal cream on the rash twice a day, and change my shampoo and conditioner to noncomedogenic ones (I already switched my soap and laundry detergent ). We did not mention the Big C. We did not mention recurrence. Until someone proves to me otherwise, I simply have a rash of unknown origin. Merry Christmas to me. And to all you wonderful readers too!

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2013!

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This marks the 82nd blog post I've written in 2012 (that's twice as many as I wrote in 2011). It's been a good and busy year, and while I have no idea what's in store for me in 2013, I can promise you this: I'll be writing about it. The good, the bad, the uncomfortable and, you betcha: The downright ugly.

This past year has made me reflect a great deal on breast cancer as a whole, and the many ways it taints the many lives it touches. Not just the patient, but the people who love us, the people who like us, the people who don't like us, the people who don't even know us, and the strangers we meet along the way. Like the pebble in the pond, we all are touched by the ripple of cancer.

There is so much material to mine, I could write every day, all day, about some aspect or another and never run out of ideas — just time (oh, and energy). But I do have one caveat that needs some air time, and the beginning of a new year is the perfect time to put it out there.

Catharsis is inherent in blogging, and it comes from the opportunity to write about some very deep and dark emotions. Much of the time, the dark or troubling feelings are fleeting. They don't stay with me after I put them on the page. But sometimes they do. And the people who read this blog who have cancer get that. They get the process of unloading, they understand the drive to get the bad thoughts out, they take comfort in knowing they are not alone in their dark thoughts too.

But there are plenty of folks who read my blog who don't have cancer. Though they put up a brave front, I know sometimes what I write about scares them. They are afraid I'm "stuck" in my cancer process because I'm still talking about it two years later and really, shouldn't I be over it by now? And because everyone knows a cancer patient who appears to have gotten on with his or her life, who appears to be making lemonade out of lemons, who appears to be doing fantastic given what she/he has been through, who appears to believe that cancer is a "gift," then it appears that I perhaps am lagging behind. 

I say "appears" because you can never judge a book by it's cover. Another blogger, Lisa Bonchek Adams, writes with great insight in her latest blog post, "You Look Great; You'd Never Know." And that's precisely the point behind why I blog — and if there is any gift to be gleaned from my experience (see my posts about the anti-gift of cancer here and here, prompted by my friend Nancy's post on the "gift" of cancer here), it is the gift of free expression. This blog is my gift to my mental and emotional health, and hopefully to yours too. 

There are lots of times I write things here and don't think about them again. Other times I can barely write about what I DO think all the time. My point is this: Never judge a patient by how she/he is coping with their cancer. I can no sooner "put it all behind me" than my neighbor can decide to grow two heads. Folks with cancer get this. Folks who don't, well, don't. It's really that simple. And I pray that more people will understand that the emotional process of going through cancer is as unique as our personalities. No two people go through it the same way. 

On a lighter note, my blogging pal Marie over at Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer has asked us to choose our favorite post from 2012 and post a link to it on her blog. I chose something I penned back in April entitled "It's Not My Fault I Got Cancer." It struck a chord not just with me, but with so many of you, too. If you harbor any ill feelings about what you might have done (or not done) to prevent yourself (or a loved one) from getting The Big C, then I urge you to read it and get rid of some of your guilt. 

In reviewing some of the posts left on Marie's JBBC blog, I discovered a blogger I hadn't seen before: Stay Strong Cindy, of the blog Surviving Survivorship. Her favorite blog post of 2012 was entitled "Someone Has Cancer" and it's a guide of sorts on what to say and do (and what not to say and do) to someone who has been diagnosed with cancer. I think it should be required reading for anyone who knows anyone who's struggling with their health. (And that's just about everyone!) So thank you, Marie, for helping me discover Cindy.

I want to thank you, dear reader, for spending even a moment of your time reading this blog. If I can help demystify the breast cancer or reconstruction experience a little, or make you feel less alone, or empower you to approach a friend with cancer with newfound compassion, then it will be a very good year. 

I was re-reading what I wrote a year ago as 2011 was coming to a close, and I realized that it's the people around you, in "real" life and online, who accept and support you on your cancer journey, no matter where you are on it — be it in the land of NED or in the dark recesses of metastasis — that enrich your life and keep you sane. So I'd like to rerun that post to close out this year. So I present to you, THE RUBIES, which originally appeared on January 1, 2012. (You'll note that Marie was instrumental in that post as well! She is The Pied Piper of Breast Cancer Patients!) 


In the spirit of a new year (and inspired by my blogging pal Marie's thought-provoking queries), I want to open 2012 with a question. Anyone reading this post has either been diagnosed with cancer or knows someone who has. It doesn't matter if you are in the former or the latter group; our collective world is shattered and splintered by The Big C.

But among the fallout and the rubble of cancer come The Rubies — the people who keep us grounded, or safe, or sane, or distracted, or engaged during all the rolling ruckus.

The Rubies are there at the right time, in the right place, and we have the foresight to recognize them as the rare gems they truly are.
As a person dodging the minefield of cancer, I am fortunate to have many Rubies. And without the internet I would never have "met" the majority of them. I count among my Rubies the courageous cancer bloggers who are telling their tale with honesty and humor and bravado. They paint a deeper, fuller, more complex and truthful picture of cancer in all its crazy colors — and we all can benefit from their wisdom. I feel stronger and less alone in my struggles because of them. And so I say thank you to the women and men of the blogosphere.

(©2012 TheBigCandMe.blogspot.com)

I also am lucky to have Rubies in the form of a group of women I met online at BCO. We are seven in total, and range in age from 27 to 53. We all were diagnosed with breast cancer at the end of 2010. Five out of seven of us had bilateral mastectomies; one had a single mastectomy; one had a lumpectomy. Three had chemotherapy; five are on Tamoxifen. No one lives near the other (though some ladies did manage to meet in 2011) and I have yet to meet these fair maidens myself, but we "talk" every day. They are my lifeline, my sanity, and my strength. And so to my six Rubies, I say thank you for always being there. I couldn't do this journey without you.

2012 POSTSCRIPT: I had the pleasure of meeting two of my Rubies in 2012... the first, Shannon #1, I met in California in February 2012; the second, Marilee, I met in Maryland. What a joyful experience to meet two of my Rubies! I hope by this time next year, I will have met many, many more. I'll keep you posted. Until then, peace to you and your family in 2013. And to quote Cindy: Stay strong.

The Farmer's Market is Open!

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Freshly washed butter crunch lettuce. Photo by Angela Tague.

Have you ever shopped in a store where every display seemed to call your name?

Handcrafted beeswax lip balm? Yes, please!
Spinach speckled with local soil? Bring it on!
Glistening jars of crimson berry jams. Yum!

Our local farmer's market opened this morning, which means I can barely get this written between taking bites of my locally grown lunch. Heck, my editors are lucky the market isn't open all day, or I may have missed a few deadlines today!

Since it's early in the season, our local market was plentiful with fresh spring greens, radishes, rhubarb and asparagus.

But, the true find of the day was a head of butter crunch lettuce. The velvety texture, mild flavor and pale color truly means summer is just around the corner. Since this is one of the first lettuces of the season to grow in the midwest, it's always an early garden-season treat.

Is your farmer's market open for business? What local whole foods are you enjoying?

Until Next Time,
Choose Healthy!

Angela Tague
Whole Foods Living

Mini Pet Portrait Honors Your Best Friend

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It's time for our annual holiday giveaways, and what better way to start than with our favorite products? Becky, artist and owner of BecArt and Becky Sorrentino Studio, creates amazing likenesses of beloved pets on small "canvasses".

These miniature portraits make ideal holiday ornaments. They also serve well  as year-round home decor. The portraits are created simply from a photo or two of the starring pet. Take a look at some of the cuties that grace their families' holiday trees and homes, now and forever - BecArt Studio: All About Pets.


Ever notice how sometimes the simple things in life can have a huge impact on you? A beautifully painted tribute of your beloved best friend is just that kind of magic.


This makes for the most impressive gift for your pet-loving friends and relatives, too. Last year, Kim Clune (of This One Wild Life fame) was the winner of our Mini Portrait Giveaway. Want to know how it feels to get one of these? Read Kim's review here - A Few Of My Favorite Things.

A perfect gift!

Special offer for our readers: Order from Becky Sorrentino Studio (this includes her Etsy shops) and mention CINDYLUSMUSE to receive a 15% discount on any purchases through the rest of this month.

GIVEAWAY!
Enter to win a Gift Certificate good for one custom Mini Pet Portrait!
Leave a comment below telling us what you'd like Becky to paint on your ornament; be sure to verify you entered through the Rafflecopter widget.
Additional entries are available - "Like" Becky Sorrentino Studio, CindyLu's Muse on Facebook; Tweet about this Giveaway, Place an order with Becky; Favorite her shops on Etsy.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Disclaimer: We received no compensation for this giveaway. Gift certificate is provided by Becky Sorrentino Studio. We have to admit, we're biased here - Becky's part of our family. But take a look at her work, tell us if you don't think we should be proud to acknowledge that!


We're in Fido's Freebie Friday! When you've completed your entries here, head on over and check it out -- there are tons of pawsome giveaways!!

Best Friends Purr-fectly Captured in Photography

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There is perhaps nothing more comforting and heartwarming than the vision of our beloved pets. Rare and treasured is the chance to capture their true essence in a way that will last for all time. Paul, of Purr Photography, does just that - in an exceptionally talented way that accurately reflects the personality and true being of your best friend. Through photography, Paul enables you to have the uniqueness of your pet to admire, view, and feel close to no matter where you are.

Although there are many photography businesses out there no matter where you live, there seems to be only a few who truly have the talent for producing images that make you say, "Wow". Even less so are people who have a natural gift with animals, able to calm uncertain dogs or cats and to bring out the best in each of them. Paul is one such hidden gem. Animals of all types flock to him.


I know, firsthand. Our dog Chester, who was once a rescue, was handled by Paul before we adopted. To this very day, almost eight years later, Chester still goes crazy when Paul is near him. With Paul, animals have a friend for life, and they know it. Add the skills of good photography, and you get the end results of the most special images of your dear pet that you could ever imagine.

Paul and his wife, Deanne, have been avid volunteers in the dog and cat rescue world for years. Together, they manage the cats that Almost Home Foundation rescues and adopts out. They can be found at all the events, and work endlessly seven days a week, all year long, for the benefit of homeless pets. The dogs and cats in the Chicago area couldn't have better friends on their side.

If you live in the Chicago metropolitan area, you'll want to have Paul work his magic with your pet. He photographs on location, whether it be in your home, a favorite outdoor spot, or special event.

And yes, he does snap his camera for people and things in this world other than pets. They're just his favorite subjects! If you've followed along with us, you'll surely recognize the name - we feature Purr Photography images here as often as we can.

Purr Photography offers a gift certificate, which would be a fantastic, unique, and impressive gift for the pet lovers you know. Dare I say, purr-fect? Check out the website for details - and Purr Photography on Facebook where you'll find oodles of examples of Paul's daily masterpieces.
GIVEAWAY!
Enter to win a Gift Certificate for Purr Photography - a $50 value. This entitles the bearer to one half-hour session.
Leave a comment below telling us in what pose/setting/location you'd love to have a photo of your best friend. Be sure to verify your entry in the Rafflecopter box. Rafflecopter makes it easy-peasy to enter giveaways through either your email address or Facebook - your choice.
Additional entries are available - follow Purr on Facebook, tweet about this giveaway, even earn bonus points if you place an order. Just click the ones you want in the box.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Disclaimer: We did not receive any compensation for this giveaway - just the knowledge that we're sharing about a superb business that offers great deals for our readers. The gift certificate is provided by Purr Photography.

We're in Fido's Freebie Friday! When you finish your entries, be sure to click on over and check out tons of pawsome giveaways to keep you purring and your tail wagging!

Semi-Wordless Wednesday: My New Family Members

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This Christmas we had new family members to celebrate with. Introducing:

Buddy Tee, Mike's ferret (and cute-snuggles competition for me).

Lizzie's baby girl - even moooore competition for me!

Notice Vedder? BOL Photobomb! And speaking of my pawsome cousin...

Look what Vedder gave me for a present!

Sure hope you had a great holiday this year - our Christmas was wonderful!
p.s. - Just a reminder - if you haven't yet, check out all the giveaways we've got this week!