It's Jason's Birthday | Halifax, NS

Jason must have known I didn't have a special post written for his birthday, so he wrote one himself - and managed to make it all about me!  I am a lucky girl... K

As is usually the case, I didn’t have anything special planned to mark my birthday last year. I never consider my birthday to be a big deal and even if it falls on a weekend I rarely go out for drinks to celebrate.  When I think about it, I’m not the one who should be receiving cards and gifts on my birthday. My mother is the one who did all the work on April 5^th 1980, so she should probably get some presents and cards to mark the occasion. Do I deserve rewards for just managing to exist for another year? Probably not. But that is a discussion for another day.

I didn’t know it at the time but my 30^th birthday would be my last.  Actually, right up until the evening of April 5^th last year I was still expecting some sort of simple celebration to mark my 31^st birthday. Maybe just sharing some cake or going out for supper.  Little did I know that April 5^th would be so different last year and every year from then on.

See, last year on this day my wonderful girlfriend, Karen, found out that she didn’t have to have chemotherapy to treat her breast cancer. I got home from work around 7pm that night; Karen had met with her oncologist that afternoon - the only appointment she had that I hadn't been able to attend.  She called to tell me the wonderful news.  She was dreading having to go through chemo and knowing she didn’t have to made us ecstatic. She told me that a group of us would be going out to celebrate the news and to celebrate my birthday. But that wasn’t what we were doing. We were going out to celebrate No Chemo Day. We were going out to celebrate how amazing she had been through all the appointments and the treatments, how well she handled the surgery and how, through it all, she managed to impress us with her courage and strength.  

So, from now on April 5^th isn’t my birthday. It is No Chemo Day. Trust me, I’m in no way upset or even a tad bit disappointed that I no longer get a birthday - not only do I get to celebrate something much, much more important on this day from now on but from what I understand since I don’t have any more birthdays I will apparently stop aging. ;-)

If you are still looking for a birthday party today, I bet Colin Powell will have a nice one. Although he probably doesn’t need any more presents or money.

But if I were you I would take a minute to celebrate No Chemo Day today. And to thank Karen for making it all possible.

Happy No Chemo Day, Karen.

ILYP2,

J

That Sounded Better in My Head | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

Today I saw oncologist number three.  Well, technically, he was oncologist number one, but he happens to be the third (and final) oncologist who gets to give me the all clear.  He was the first oncologist I saw after being diagnosed and he started me on my road to treatment.  He was my surgeon, who took great care in making sure I had all the facts and that I made an informed decision on my treatment.

My surgery went well, my scar isn't disturbing, and Dr. P took enough tissue around the cancer to ensure it was gone!  I've seen many other doctors since my surgery and they have all commented on the great job Dr. P did.  Had he not done such a great job, I may have had to have another surgery, or my treatment could have taken a different path.  He, in essence, created a great starting point, and each doctor, resident, or nurse I've seen since then has mentioned it.

Today's appointment consisted of an exam and a little conversation about where I go from here treatment-wise.  I like to be supportive and I like to tell people when they are doing a good job, so I thought I'd tell Dr. P what a great job he did.  Confidently, I said, "For the past year everyone who has seen my scar says what a great job you did!"

In case that wasn't enough, I said it again, "Everyone who sees it says how good it looks!"

Did I mention the scar is on my breast?  Or that I didn't specify to him that it was doctors who were looking at it?  Did I notice a glimmer of confusion?  A hint of, "Oh dear, who has this woman been showing her breasts to?"

Things always sounds better in my head; perhaps I should keep the pep talks to myself.

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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Celebrating Canciversaries | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

It was just a regular day.  Get up, go to work, nothing special.  But it was special, it was a year later, a year since I was diagnosed.  My team sent me flowers.  A few of us went out for dinner to celebrate.  We weren't celebrating my cancer, we were celebrating the year.  A year of ups and downs and struggles, but a year I survived.  One year stronger.

And today?  Today I celebrate again.  This one will be a quiet celebration, no flowers, no dinner, just thanks.  Thanks to the doctors and nurses, for it was a year ago today they took the cancer.  Thanks to their skill, they got it all.

I won't be celebrating all my cancer victories.  Each step along the way was a struggle and a victory:  diagnosis, surgery, bandages come off, I stopped leaking, my scar is healing, no chemo, radiation starts, radiation ends, I feel good, life gets back to normal, my oncologists give me the all-clear!  Each step was important.  But I will forever remember December 22 (diagnosis) and February 3rd (cancer-free).  My life was forever changed on those two days.  And now I'm one year stronger...

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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Isn't Cancer Supposed to Be Life-Changing? | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

At least, isn't that what you hear?  People have cancer, they survive, and they discover they weren't living their life's dream, that they're only human and the end could come at any time, that they need to kick things up a notch.  And then they do.  They kick it up, they live their dream, they change things and make it better.

I sit here, more than a year after being diagnosed.  Living the exact same life I had before diagnosis, wondering where my change is.  I know that I've come through this incredible thing, that I've beat this cancer, but ohmyGod I need to be living my dream!  It's in my head every day.  And I know my cancer journey is not over... I need to be checked regularly, the breast cancer could come back, a new cancer could come, I could be hit by a bus; at any time, I could be facing my immortality once again.  So where is my change??  Why am I living the same life I was living before cancer?  I want excitement.  I want to inspire people and share my story.  I want to change someone else's life.  I want to live the dream!

But then I realized... my life has changed.

Before I found the lump, Jason and I were just starting to fall in love.  When tragedy strikes, it brings people together.  We would most certainly have created a bond regardless, but cancer cemented it in record time.

I feel more closely connected to my family and friends.  My blog and facebook updates were cathartic for me during treatments.  I needed to share my story with my peeps.  And they read, they commented, they lifted me up.  A year later and I'm still sharing, they're still commenting, and still lifting me up.  I feel more connected to the people around me, me sharing with them and them sharing with me.  Surrounding yourself with good people is important and I feel like I've hit the lottery with that one.

Have I changed someone else's life?  I doubt it, not yet.  But I aim to do that, to keep plugging away at what I'm doing, to make someone else's cancer struggle just a little easier, to make someone else's life struggle just a little lighter.  Not knowing if I've had an impact on anyone else just inspires me to keep at it, maybe it will be years down the road, or maybe, just maybe, it's small changes for lots of people.  Who knows how any one of us impacts another?

I don't feel like I'm "living the dream" just yet, but I know I am happy.  Deliriously, joyously happy.  That is my change.  The dream, the excitement, they will come, but the happiness?  That is the win.

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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December 22, 2011 | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

One year later...

Cancer, I kicked your ass.

Booyah!

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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My Happy Place | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

My day wasn't going so well.  I needed to mentally escape.  I wiped the tears away and laid my head in my hands.  "Go to your happy place, go to your happy place," I said to myself.

I instantly went to that day on the beach.  We were spontaneous, which is so not like either of us.  I was in the midst of radiation, and with the end of treatment in sight I was in good spirits.  I changed out of my hospital gown and into my skirt.  It was a gorgeous spring day that called for flip flops.  We left the hospital, hopped into the car, and decided to just do it - let's hit the beach.  Because we can.  

We took off our shoes and walked hand in hand.  There were very few people around and we felt like we had the beach all to ourselves.  We talked about how lucky we were.  Lucky to have found each other, lucky to be getting through treatment, lucky to have this day.  We took our time and enjoyed each others company.  We stopped and took pictures to help us remember, and I'm so glad we did.

My heart remembers the peace, the joy, the contentment.  

This is my happy place.

 

 

 

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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Mom

I've always known that I was lucky, that I have a great Mom, that she's strong and funny, that she could do anything, that she would do anything.

But until my diagnosis I didn't really get it, I didn't see the whole picture.  It's as though my diagnosis opened my eyes and turned the lights on.

Now I see this incredible woman who can get through anything... and will do it with a smile, a joke, and love.  It makes me sad that I didn't fully get it til now, that I wasn't always the easiest person to live with, that I took her for granted.

But I'm so glad that I get to tell her now!  

I love you, Mom.  Happy Birthday!  And thanks for being you... and for putting up with me.  I'm sorry for the teen years and, sadly, for the ones that followed.  Thanks for the love and support you give every single day.  Thanks for the encouragement.  Thanks for being proof that we can get through it and be thankful.  

I'm thankful for you.

xoxo

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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I Know He Loves Me | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

If there were ever any doubt about his love for me, it was put to rest when I was sick.  He held me when I was scared, he checked my wounds, he soothed my soul.  Somewhere in the middle of my cancer journey I realized it.  

He really does love me.

He tells me so every day.  Every single day.  He tells me.  Then he shows me.  It's in the little things he does and the little things he says.  It's in him being himself.  He gets goofy with me.  He plays.  He makes faces.  He makes me laugh.  Every day.  And I know... he is completely himself, completely trusting, completely here with me.  One hundred per cent.

He really does love me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

xoxo

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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Dear Tamoxifen... | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

We've been seeing each other for a little over four months now.  Once a day, every day, just before bed.  I was hopeful we'd have a good relationship, nice and easy.  But now we've gone over the line and turned a corner.  Our casual relationship has turned into a love/hate relationship.

There have been changes since we've started seeing each other.  They were subtle, not all at once.  There are the hot flashes.  Luckily, they have been few and far between.  I don't sleep well, but then I didn't sleep well before you came along - thank God (and my doctor) for little blue pills that help with that.  I'm still tired - is that you?  I don't know any more.

Then there are the mood swings.  They're no picnic - for me or for Jason; luckily, he gives me the space I need and is there to pick me up when I'm ready for it.

I was warned about your side effects.  I was hopeful, though.  And I'm still optimistic that this is it, that you won't become burdensome.  Time will tell.

On the upside, you reduce my risk of recurrence by up to 50%.  You win.

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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I Picture Hope - Giving Back | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Photographer

Getting a breast cancer diagnosis is such a scary time with so many thoughts, fears, and emotions.   I don't think you can imagine it unless you've been through it.  At least I couldn't imagine it til I heard the words myself.  Fear and denial are big ones, you've got to go through them before you get to strength, courage, and hope.

While I was going through the early days, I dealt with fear a lot.  Fear of the unknown.  Fear of surgery.  Fear of treatments.  Fear of changes I'd go through.  Before my surgery, the one thing I wanted was a photoshoot.  I felt it was important because I didn't know what was to come... surgery, chemo, radiation, who knows what else.  And I wanted to remember what I was like in that moment, full of fear and on the cusp of gathering my courage for what was to come.

And now, here I am ten months later.  I'm here to tell you that you can have strength, you can have courage, and you can have hope.  And I'd like to help you see that.  If you're going through treatments or are, like me, a survivor I'd like the chance to give you the photoshoot I so desperately wanted.  To remind you of who you are right now. 

My friend Camille Denae has gathered up photographers around the world, photographers ready to help remind those going through breast cancer treatments or those who have survived that there is hope.  I Picture Hope is here for you.  If you're in Halifax or the surrounding areas going through treatments (or have finished treatments) and would like to talk about a photoshoot, drop me a line, let's talk.  If you're visiting from away, check out the I Picture Hope facebook page and find a photographer in your neck of the woods.

xoxo

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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Cancer Sucks | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

As I was getting ready for work a few days ago, my mind flashed back to the date of diagnosis.  My heart raced and my eyes watered.  Why?  Why am I thinking about that today?  Ah, it was the 22nd... the monthiversary of my diagnosis.  It's been nine months, surely I won't think about it on the 22nd of each and every month.  Good God, enough is enough.

As I realized why I was thinking about my diagnosis, my thoughts turned to my Mom.  She's at the stage I was in February - her surgery is done, she's healing, and is waiting to find out what treatments she's going to need.  Waiting.  Waiting.  Waiting.  Waiting sucks, too, by the way.  But Mom handles it with courage and grace - and big heaping of "let's get 'er done" attitude.

I feel as though I were a puddle of mush during my cancer journey and I am in awe of my mother and the way she deals with hers.  Where it seemed like days before I even left the house after my surgery, she was raring to go.  It's true we each handle diagnosis and treatment our own way, no one can dictate how we should think or feel, or what we should do.  But if you're going through what Mom and I had to go through, I wish you strength.  I wish you courage.  I wish you hope.  And I wish you a big ol' heaping of "just get 'er done" attitude.  It's a good thing.

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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Thankful for... My Wedding Team | Halifax, NS, Wedding Photographer

None of us, including me, ever do great things. 
But we can all do small things, with great love, and together we can do something wonderful.
Mother Teresa

I put together a team for Kathleen and Brett's wedding.  My team, just in case.  I was all set to shoot the wedding, but then I got my diagnosis and everything that was clear became unclear.  What if I have chemo, what if I'm sick, what if, what if, what if...  So we prepared.  With full approval of my wonderful bride and groom, I planned.

My friend, Mary Kelly, was already set to shoot the wedding with me.  Luckily, another friend, Cassie MacGregor, jumped on board and we were good to go.  I planned for if I were sick or if I were healthy, there was nothing left to chance.  Happily, chemo was not a necessity and Mary, Cassie, and I all shot Kathleen and Brett's wedding together.

I'm thankful for the strengths we each brought to the wedding, for our teamwork, and for having friends who also happen to be fab photogs, too.  

 ...together we can do something wonderful.

...Kare
email: karenk{at}eastlink.ca
website: http://www.karenkyte.com
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We breathed a collective sigh... | Sydney, NS, Breast Cancer Treatment

We paced, the three of us.  We had been sitting and waiting for hours and we could sit no longer.  Mom was in surgery and Dad, Lori, and I waited.  We had Jason and Gary (Lori's husband) waiting with us, but we finally left them in the waiting area and the three of us paced, waiting for the doctor.

Mom was diagnosed a month ago.  Just as I was getting the all clear from my oncologist, she was getting the news that she once again had breast cancer.   She and I sat last night and discussed our surgeries, mine from six months ago and hers from 24 years ago, about how well we got through them, and about how well she would get through this one. 

Deep inside, though, we all harboured our fears.  And today we paced.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor appeared to tell us everything went just as planned, she was waking up, was in just a little pain, but she was doing great.  And there was a collective sigh of relief, some tears, and lots of hugs.

It was another couple of hours before we got to see her, but as they wheeled her toward me she waved and smiled.  The nurses settled her into her own room, she had a satisfying dinner, and is getting some rest tonight after a very long day.

*Sigh*

Thanks for the prayers and good thoughts - we are strong believers in the power of prayer and positive thinking and we are so thankful for so many of you who were thinking of us today.
xoxo

...Kare
email: karenk{at}eastlink.ca
website: http://www.karenkyte.com/
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Am I A Photographer? | Halifax, NS

...or more to the point, do I want to be a photographer?  That has been the question in my mind since I was diagnosed with cancer last December.

Once diagnosed, i stopped shooting.  Cold.  I didn't want anything to do with photography at all.  Perhaps I just needed a break, but I was no longer eating, breathing, sleeping photography.  I snuggled in and got myself well (well... me, my team, and hordes of medical professionals did that!).  And I still didn't shoot.  I wasn't feeling it.  I didn't lose my love for it, just my passion and desire.  Maybe I'm not meant to do this, or maybe I'm just not meant to do this any more.

So I waited.  I shot a little, and it was okay, but I still wasn't ready.  So I waited some more.  I had committed to a few things, so I shot them.  I enjoyed them and had fun, but still no passion.  I kept pushing back my return to work date - ahhhhh, I'll be back at in July!  Hmmmmm, maybe August.  Mid-September, for sure.  Each time, I assumed the passion would return and I would be ready.

But the doubts got deeper and stronger.

Cancer is a life changer.  A goal changer.  Good or bad, it changes you.  I expected it to make me realize I need to live the life I dream of living, of capturing people's lives, of embracing the moment, and living life to the fullest.  Of course, it's a reminder that life is fleeting and you have to make the most of it.

But I lost my passion along the way.  I lost it and began to think cancer was my reminder to snuggle in and spend more time with my loved ones, to live a quiet, normal life.  Safe.  On my own schedule.

And then I shot Kathleen and Brett's wedding.  It was fun, it was hectic, it was a long day - and I loved it.  Kathleen and Brett are friends and were a joy to spend the day with.  Their wedding party and families were beyond amazing.  I had Cassie, Mary, and Jason with me, backing me up.  It was perfect.  But still, not a life changing moment for me.  Not yet. 

Last night, as I was going through their images, it hit me.  I love capturing love.  Love it!   I don't shoot a lot of weddings, but I have had amazing brides who took a chance on me and let me do what I love.   It scares me, but I can't imagine not doing it.   And my cancer life changer - maybe it just means that I can live this crazy life but I should enjoy it, too!  I should step back once in awhile and take it all in, be with the people I love, and live a good, fullfilling life.

 

 




















...Kare
email: karenk{at}eastlink.ca
website: http://www.karenkyte.com
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You Inspire Me | Halifax, NS, Breast Cancer Survivor

Since my diagnosis, people tell me how strong and inspiring I am.  Do they really think I'm that strong?  I brush it off - I do what anyone going through this would do.  You just get it done.

But I look around at the women in my life and I see strength and inspiration.  I see it everywhere.

My mom tops the list of women who inspire me.  She is truly an amazing woman, she deals with life head on - with humor, grace, and strength.  Your husband gets posted overseas?  No problem, you pack up your three small children, move overseas, and have an adventure.  Cancer diagnosis?  Cancer schmancer - bring it.  Do what you've got to do and move on.  In every aspect of her life, she just deals and moves on.  

Then I look around at the other women in my life and I see more strength and inspiration.   Women who are raising their children.  They're dealing with illness.  They are someone's support system.  They're dealing with loss and separation.  They're single-parenting.  They're making someone's struggle easier.  They step out of their comfort zone.  They move across the country or around the world.  Something big or something little, they just get it done.

If you tell them how amazing they are, they'll brush it off.  They'll tell you they're just doing what needs to be done.  And their strength inspires me.

But it's you I'm talking about.  You are one of the women in my life.  You.  Strong, powerful, inspiring.  Don't ever forget it or brush it off.  Your strength inspires the people around you.  Believe it.  Believe in yourself.  You are amazing.

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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Who Turned Up the Heat? | Halifax, NS Breast Cancer Survivor

We sat in the cafeteria, catching up on the past few days.  We had had lunch together daily until I started my treatments.  Since I've headed back to work, Dy and I haven't had the opportunity to catch up over lunch, but today we jumped at the chance.  We talked about work, her kids, life in general.

Then I felt it.  The warmth.  All over.  It can't be that warm in here, I thought, we're in an air-conditioned building.  In a moment I stopped listening, curious as to what was happening.  Suddenly, my arm felt clammy and it dawned on me.  Dear God, I think I'm having my first hot flash!  I said it out loud.

Dy smiled a knowing smile.  She's been there.  For her, a side effect of chemo; for me, it's likely a side effect of Tamoxifen.   

I started taking Tamoxifen in June, once I had finished my radiation treatments.  It's one pill that I take every day.  There are lots of side effects to be on the look out for, some not pleasant, but I trust my oncologist's opinion that the good outweighs the bad.

I remember years ago when Mom was having her hot flashes.   We all sat at the dining room table, Mom's roast beef and mashed potatoes piled high, plates passed around as we each served ourselves... peas, carrots, gravy.  Suddenly, Mom jumps up from her chair and leaves the room.  She darts around the corner and we hear the door to the garage open.  Ahhhhhh, it dawns on us... another hot flash.  We laugh, not able to sympathize.  Moments later, Mom returns.  Her cheeks are flushed, but she smiles, picks up her fork, and continues her meal.

My hot flash was slight, hopefully they will all be so easy.  As I cooled off, Dy and I finished our meals, sharing stories now consisting of work, her kids, life in general, and cancer.

  

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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Twenty-two | Halifax, NS Breast Cancer Survivor

Ahhhhhh, the 22nd.  You hit me like a tonne of bricks.  My monthly reminder.  

The 22nd of each month brings me back to that day in December, the day of diagnosis.  It hits hard and I visualize myself getting that phone message, I hear Charlotte's voice... the doctor would like to see you... today... bring a friend or family member...

I instinctively cry.  I cry for the fear I had, the unknown, for the disbelief I had as I fell to the floor with the phone in my hand.

Then I cry with thanks.  Thanks for the path I have taken and the kind souls I have had with me along the way.  Thanks for the past seven months that have changed me.  Tears of relief.

The 22nd hits me like this each month. Tears and relief.  It gets easier.  And I'm thankful that I'm able reflect on my amazing journey and the strength I have because of it.

Happy Friday.

xoxo

...Kare

email:  karenk{at}eastlink.ca

website:  http://www.karenkyte.com

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