Wednesday, June 6, 2007 - Let There Be Cake

Seven years old. Wow!

Or more specifically, as I look to the Heavens, “Thank You”.

The best medicine that science has to offer says that a three year old girl diagnosed with ALL, relapsing in her brain and spinal cord not four months into treatment, most likely won’t see her seventh birthday. Yet here I am. Bigger. Stronger. Cuter. And about to have My Super Sweet Seven Party! I truly do not know where my lifeline is supposed to take me, but I’ll never use the words ‘purpose’ and ‘statistics’ in the same sentence as long as I live. But there is approximately a 101 percent chance that I’ll be elbow-deep in cake by the weekend!

Life’s too short not lick the spoon.

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - I figured out how The Sopranos is going to end this Sunday, I’d bet the allowance that my parents say they’re going to give me, but conveniently forget, on it. Check this out:

Somehow, in the middle of the chaos, what’s left of Tony’s underdog crew manages to take down Phil Leotardo. In the days that follow, Tony gets comfortable and slips back into unguarded normal life. Standing by the pool, we see Tony admiring the Canada geese (or as GWB would say, the Repatriated American geese) flying south just as he did to start the very first scene of Episode 1 seven years ago. As we see a close up of a content Tony, we here the loud bang of the gunshot that takes Tony down, revealing his assassin standing behind him…the one person who came to realize that the wrongs of the world and in his life is because of violence, the one person that now feels Tony created the violent chaos in his life that he can’t escape, the one confused person Tony rejected and practically assaulted last week…his son A.J. A.J.’s lifelong transformation to a monster just like his dad is complete, and the circle of life is complete. Bada bing, fade to black.

Come back Monday and tell me I’m wrong!




Thursday, April 5, 2007 - The Last Soldiers

A mere half century ago, parents raised their children under the threat that polio until science found their medical a-bomb and all but obliterated it. Before polio, it was influenza. Before that it was smallpox. And Cholera. And syphilis. And the Plague. Just like the stone age, the bronze age, the medieval age, the industrial age, and the information age define the calendar of our advancements of scientific and cultural advancement as a people, so too do our victories over what must have felt like punishments from hell in the Earthly form of disease.

Within my lifetime, a wafer thin span in our collective history, cancer will disappear. Way back in the days before cancer was a real, actual thing to me, the fundraising campaign for the Canadian cancer Society used to be “cancer CAN be beaten.” It’s a beautiful world out there my friends, and cancer WILL be beaten! Sooner than you think, too. I can almost hear the innocent conversation a couple of generations from now when my future daughter (who I have tentatively named Lulu, but mom says we’ll have to see about that) and her six year old daughter.


“So what did you learn in virtual school today, Bratz?” (Oh ya, Bratz is my granddaughter)

“We learned about something called cancer. It used to be a big deal last century. It killed people until Dr. Britney Federline Jr. developed a cure.”

“I see. Did you know that Nonna Jojo had cancer?”

“Wait, you mean Grandma Jojo? The same Grandma Julianna who won’t leave my antique Barbie collection alone? The same Grandma Julianna who pulled out Great Uncle Stinky’s chair and broke his hip? SHE had cancer? I thought cancer killed people back in the old days before the vaccines.”

“It did, sweetie. It did. But it never will again.”


This is our place in history. The last generation…the LAST generation…that will have to live through cancer as a potential death sentence instead of a chronic illness that we just put up with, or a nuisance that we complain about to the pharmacist because her slow turnaround in prepping your one-shot anticancer suppository prescription made you late for your waxing appointment (that is, if science has failed to crush the self image plague that we call body hair).

[Aside - appreciate how absurd that sounds now, because that trend over time to increasingly higher and higher self-serving, “I’m the center of the universe” expectations is the road that we’ve been travelling for decades now…meet your future grandchildren, folks!]

Yes, we are truly on the front line in the days before V-Day. You can see feel the end coming, yet fate still compels us to fight. Our researchers and doctors are our generals, and our nurses are the front line sergeants who we follow into battle. Good men and women died the day before World War II ended, their sacrifice was no less important than those who died the first day of the war. But something feels more, I don’t know, I guess the word is tragic, in any suffering when the end is so close. It makes me grateful and bitter at the same time.

There will be another cancer, another polio, another smallpox. There always is. And each challenge to our humanity will stare it down. We always do. And there will always be war vets on the front lines of the good fight. But today, one thousand three hundred and ten days after my mom and dad took me to the ER because I just couldn’t shake a fever, the only future that matters to me is the very next minute. What will it bring?

This wonderful weekend, those minutes will bring celebration. I will celebrate Easter, I will celebrate a long weekend without school, I will celebrate giant bunnies, sugar highs and maybe a present or two. And I will celebrate one year off of treatment (Good Friday indeed!). And by celebrate, I mean I’ll smile, quietly and privately send my special thank you to God for the privilege of time, quietly and privately shed tears for those who fought the good fight and smile back at us from Heaven, and quietly and privately pray for those still fighting the good fight. So much to be grateful for, it overwhelms me.

Goodbye, cancer. May we never cross paths again, and may your history be history soon.

And don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Thursday, March 1, 2007 - Girls Rule, Guys Drool

Helllloooo? Anybody out there??

Ya, I know, I know. I’m sorry to disappear like that without much warning or explanation. I don’t want to get into it too much right now, but basically my ghostwriter/dad is going through this weird internal crisis of confidence where he’s having a hard time facing anything to do with the word “cancer”. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m doing fine. It’s not my health, it’s his head, and I’m sure there’s a psych thesis out there that explains it perfectly. Hopefully we’ll lick that soon.

But enough about the weak men in my family, let me tell you about the strong women in this lineage of mine.

- For you Brandonites out there, the upcoming Assiniboine College Sun Of A Beach indoor beach volleyball and social is celebrating it’s 20th anniversary this year. South western Manitobans know how huge that event is. It’s my grandma’s baby! She created it and made it into what it has become today, partially off the backs of unpaid slave family labor (she even blackmailed my dad into designing the shark mascot those first few years).

- My Auntie Tammy is off to coach at the Canada Winter Games in Yellowknife, NWT next week. It’s been 32 short years since she competed in her first Canada Games, where she set records for the youngest person ever to compete and the youngest to win a medal at the age of nine (nine!). But her most remarkable accomplishment is that she’s still only 39 years old.

- Right now as I type this, my mom is in Ghana, Africa! She is part of a team of dental professionals from the University of Manitoba on a dental care and education humanitarian mission to some of the poorer, more remote villages of that country. Her trip took 36 hours, crossing 6 time zones and climbing over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Man, the lengths that chick will go to for a good base tan. Meanwhile back here in Western Siberia, me, my dad and my stinky brother have shovelled snow four times in the six days since she left.

- And then there’s cute little me. cancer kicker at age 3. cancer survivor by age 5. Stinky brother survivor by age 6. And Hero by grade 1.

Mom, in the off chance that you have found your way to an Internet café, let me tell you about my morning. Dad came out of the shower not knowing that anybody else was out of bed yet. I took him by surprise as he walked into the laundry room looking for some toothpaste. I was sitting on the floor by myself with a pen and a piece of fresh paper.

“Aww, Sweetie, you’re crying. Why are you so sad?”

“I want to write ‘I miss you Mommy’ but I don’t know how to spell it.”

Stay safe Mom. There will be lots of art work waiting for you when you get back.

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – Mom, I was home sick today with a head cold, and things aren’t looking all that promising for tomorrow. Of course, Nicholas is ticked, thinking that I’m faking it to get out of school. In other words, everything is absolutely normal around here :-)

Wednesday, January 17, 2007 - What's Flakier Than Snow?

Ooooh, the weather outside is frightful,
Living in Canada makes me spiteful,
Minus 45 degrees when the wind blows,
Screw the snow, screw the snow, screw the snoooow.

Close your eyes (after you read this, silly!) and imagine yourself enjoying a leisurely, naked soak in a well-stoked sauna, your body glistening with steamy sweat. At the end of the sauna, you notice a door that you have never seen before. Wiping away the beads of perspiration streaming off your overheated forehead, you open the door which, to your amazement, leads to a frozen meat locker. You walk in, sans towel, and sit your steaming wet naked butt down on a block of solid ice, almost instantly ice-welding both cheeks, and all parts in between, to the ice. With the one free hand that you aren’t using to pound your chest in a desperate bid to restart your heart, you reach out, carefully navigating the two razor-sharp spikes that used to be your nipples, to turn on a six foot fan pointed right at you.

That’s minus 30.

Welcome to wonderful, winterful Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, where the windchill this past week plunged below…BELOW…minus 45 degrees Celsius! For the metrically impaired out there, minus 45 Celsius is equivalent to minus 49 Freakin’ Fahrenheit.

Ah, good ol’ Winnipeg. We pay taxes to live here. Being the hearty lot of perseverers that we are, we Winnipeggers don’t like to think of it as minus 45, we prefer to think of it as a roasty toasty 228 degrees above Absolute Zero. Why do we stay, you ask? Because they just don’t make’em any tougher than a Winnipegger, we’re Capital-T Tough! Sure, there may be a few wussy pussy girlie-men among us. Once they reach 200 pounds, we send them down to patrol the beaches of Florida in their undersized wiener bags to grow out their back hair and to work on tan lines that arguably never should have seen the light of day. But the rest of us - tough as the leather skin on our winterized faces. We’re character, baby! No matter how tough we have it, our glasses are always more than half full. I think that’s because water expands when it freezes.

Hey friends, how’s it going?! Yes, I realize that I pretty much dropped off the face of the e-planet. No health scare, just a major time crunch, an energy drought and very tentative typing fingers. To say that I’ve had a touch of writer’s block would be like saying that Winnipeg has been experiencing a hint of the chills lately (if you pee outside right now, it’s hitting the ground as cubes). Actually, it’s been more than writer’s block, and I couldn’t put my finger on it until recently. The other day, dad took me and my stinky brother to see the stage show of Clifford the Big Red Dog and his Big Green Intermission Marketing Machine (anyone wanna buy a $15 plastic dog bone and what’s left of my $5 slushie?). I bumped into a woman who recognized me from this site. She mentioned that she noticed that I had not been updating lately. And then she said “Well, that’s good!”

She’s right, it is a good thing. It’s a sign that my life is slipping deeper and deeper into what I think the rest of the world calls “normal”. Less time dwelling equals less time writing. I think it’s also a reflection of who my ghost writer/typist really is. Other than being a flake, that is. The guy is just that. A guy. When’s the last time you bumped into a “regular” guy who was chomping at the bit to tell you about his feelings? Unless he’s under some sort of unnatural stress, or maybe trying to pick up another guy, you just don’t see it. The stresses of parenting a child fighting cancer continue to ease for my dad, and the closer our lives gets to normal, the less he wants to talk about what got us here. Or to even face it, for that matter. It hurts, man, and it doesn’t take much to bring my thoughts and my heart right back to my darkest moments. They were really, really dark, and I really, really don’t want to face them again. So I continue to struggle with being here.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going anywhere, I have a reason for being here that’s bigger than myself now (Kendrie’s mom has lapped me now!). But I am coming to realize that I’m a little flakier than I thought. I hope you will be patient with me.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Saturday, December 23, 2006 - Christmas Eve Eve

Ho Ho Ho, it's getting close close close!

On Friday me and my stinky brother visited the Rainbow Society to wish the a Merry Christmas and to share some of our pictures from our huge wish trip back in May (Rainbow Society trivia for you...that dolphin is kissing '73's son).

[Grace, the Rainbow Society Director] - Who's that Julianna, is that your dad?

[Cute little me] - "No! (duh!) That's Frankenstein."

[Grace] - "Oh, ok, and who's that, your mommy?"

[Cute little me] - "That's Mrs. Stein"

Sheesh! How does a person grow up in Western society and not know who The Stein's are? She must really work a lot.

The clock is really ticking on me now, and it's touch and go if I'll be able to get to a computer to update fore S-S-SAAAANNTA day!!! Just in case, I wanted to share my family Christmas letter with you and to wish you all the happiest, healthiest, presentiest Christmas and New Year possible! May you laugh, love and really really live.

Luv,
Julianna Banana and Famalana



Friday, December 15, 2006 - A New Beginning, an Old Labor of Love


[Note from Julianna: This was the update I told you that I was going to be posting back on December 4. But as luck and my dad’s attention deficit syndrome would have it, he got the date wrong.]


Hey everyone, this is Julianna’s dad here. If I haven’t had the good fortune of meeting you before, Hi, my name is Terry.

I am crazy-excited to tell you that, as of this sentence, I begin anew! Actually, WE begin anew, you just don’t know that you are a part of it yet. The passion, insight and depth of understanding into the world of pediatric cancer possessed by our “community” of Caringbridge authors and visitors, are without peers. I truly believe that. We come here not by choice, but by circumstance, yet once we are here, we are forever connected by our courageous children’s experiences. And with experiences comes experience. If you will allow me, I want to tap into that.

It’s no coincidence that my last paragraph starts out “I…I…I” and morphs into “we…we…we”, because that’s pretty much how my kid cancer experience has gone. And that is also why the time is right for me to start again. Instead of writing for myself, I want to write for the children of that next family who’s lives will change forever when they take their precious child to see the doctor about that nagging arm pain or lingering fever tomorrow. And I want to write for them with you. I’m not saying that I’ll be any good at it, I’m sure my old high school English teacher’s red pen would run out of ink slugging his way through some of the stuff that comes out of my keyboard. But I want to try, and I want you to be a part of this.

So why now? What is so special about December 15? Because today is a “shout it from the rooftops” day! One year ago today, my writing partner’s daughter, Kendrie, took her last pill and officially hopped on the “Off Treatment Ottoman” (as they call it in the fab ALL-Kids discussion group). If you don’t click over and congratulate Georgia’s favourite peach, Kendrie, and her family on achieving one of the most meaningful milestones in the lives of a pediatric cancer family, I’ll personally stick my foot through this monitor and kick your butt (ya, like you need me to tell you to go there…you probably came FROM there!).

”Wait, Terry, back that up…did you just say writing partner?” Yessir/Yesmaam, indeed I did. I am also crazy-excited to tell you that my partner in prose is the crazy-excitable, crazy-energetic and, well, crazy-krazy Kristie Escoe! Kristie’s chronicled journey through pediatric cancer and family obstacles that would drive the Pope to drink, is a benchmark for perseverance with a belly laugh.

So here is how this is going down:

- Kristie and I are each going to focus on a topic or issue from our cancer-kicking experiences, and we then we are going to write about it. I won’t spill the beans on Kristie’s first topic, but mine will be on Hope.

- To see Kristie’s elegant writings as they emanate from her, you have to visit Kendrie’s page. To see the drivel that oozes out of me, you have to come back here.

- We would very much appreciate it if you would read it like a peer review and give us feedback (good, bad, or nasty) by email.

- Puh-LEASE share your ideas and insights on that topic back with us! We don’t care who you are, if you are reading this, then you know your way around The Fight and we would love to hear, and possibly include, your story and your insights. Our collaboration can be so much more than my blabberation!

- After reviewing your feedback and refining the piece, we may re-post it again.

- Next topic. Lather, rinse, repeat.

- If there is a specific topic that you feel would be a must-read in a family’s beginner guide to fighting pediatric cancer, please do share.

So where are we going with this? Our ultimate goal is a “what to expect when you’re cancerating” publication written by real families for real families just beginning their own pediatric cancer journey, and/or a dynamic, growing online library of experiences that other families can refer to. That’s a pretty lofty and intimidating goal, man. But to quote Mikhail Gorbachev (Jeez Louise, I’m quoting Russian Premiers now? Leo, if you’re out there reading, this one’s for you…), “If not me, who? And if not now, when?” And by “me”, I mean “we”, and by “we” I mean the big, collective “we”.

Oh, and thank you for asking, Julianna will not be disappearing! She may not update as often as she would have in the past, but our family fight is not over, and our beautiful banana’s courageous story is still in the writing.

And that is a story that I passionately believe will continue to be written for decades and decades to come.

With growing gratitude,
Terry, Julianna’s typist, cheerleader and old man

Friday, December 8, 2006 - Your Life, Take 1...Action

Driving to work, er, I mean peddling my Barbie bike to school this morning, I was stopped at a red light. You may recall from my November 12, 2006 journal entry that I don’t usually see being stuck at red lights as bad things, but rather as tiny gifts of time, a little pause to look up from the hustle of the day. Anyways, today while parked at the light, I happened to notice a woman in my rear view mirror. Good looking woman, nice shiny new Honda Odyssey. And she was crying.

While trying not to make eye contact with her (isn’t human nature an odd bird? Shouldn’t our instincts be to reach out?), I couldn’t help but wonder, why was she crying? Was she listening to that special song with sentimental value? Did she leave the house this morning unsure if she would return to her marriage? Did she stub her toe? I don’t know, man, but I do know that whatever the cause of her sadness was, it was clearly very strong. With just that one tiny chance encounter that this mystery woman and I had, she left her fingerprint on me. And with the green light, it was over and I’ll probably never see her again.

But really, a dolled up good looking woman driving a $40,000 vehicle, what could she possibly have to complain about that? After all, my problems are bigger than hers.

Aye, that’s the rub. Us people in The Fight, we can lose track of the significance of your problem to you with how we think it should stack up according to our own messed up, skewed scale of misery. It’s because we often forget what “normal” is supposed to feel like. It’s also not fair. For the past three years, hardly anyone complains to me about their problems to me, or if they do it usually starts with “I know it’s nothing compared to what you’ve been going through, but…” Because we’re sick, we judge harder. And because you know we’re sick, you lay off us, perhaps because you don’t want to trouble us or you’re not sure what to say. And then one day, maybe that distance turns a friend in to an acquaintance. Or an enemy. The connection is lost at the very time our lives when we need it the most.

Of course, that’s total crap. If you hurt, you hurt. Period. Nobody has the right to judge someone else’s pain (save the terrible hardships of Paris Hilton). So to those of you not in The Fight, on behalf of those of us in The Fight, please please pleasepleaseplease have patience with us! I know we’re moody, I know we can be real downers, but we’re just the same ordinary person you always knew, but flogging our way through extraordinary circumstances. We will probably never be the same person that you knew from before, but our chronic illnesses shouldn’t be an ending point, they should be a rallying point.

And what of everybody else? Hundreds of people pass through our vision every day. You could have walked right by your future spouse yesterday in Walmart, who knows. Mostly, all those people are background noise, the extras in your own personal motion picture in the making. But that same person you stood behind in line at McDonalds is a motion picture in the making, too. My movie happens to involve this awful cancer. If it didn’t, you and I would have never made the connection that we are sharing right this very second. Maybe that WAS me in front of you in line at McDonalds, you probably wouldn’t recognize me to know. Let’s go on a thought experiment and pretend that it was me. Right from the moment you saw me, you’d size me up and slot me into one of your categories of “worthiness” (yes you would, don’t lie to yourself! We all do, it’s human nature, too). Whether we want to admit it or not, first impressions are strong. We all have our factory-wired judgements. Within seconds, you would make your own pre-screening superficial judgement as to whether you think I’m smart, beautiful, dumb, have it all, in need of charity, worthless, someone to be scared of, and so on through your collection of prejudices.

By the time it was your turn to order, your subconscious already “knows” me, and unless something extraordinary happens, your life path would keep right on going and you’d probably never see me again. You would never know that I had cancer. You would never know that I have been fighting for my life.

But would you have treated me differently if you knew?

Of course you would, and I think that’s both beauty exposed and ugliness revealed in ourselves at the same time. Isn’t it a blessing that at our core, our instinct is to reach out to those who are hurting? And isn’t it sad that if we are just another person in your background noise, that we don’t really care that you may be hurting?

To the blonde lady driving her new black (?) Honda Odyssey southbound on Lagimodiere Blvd around 8:20 Thursday morning, I was part of your background noise today. Thanks to the frigging awful lights at Lag and Springfield, you popped out of the background and into my life path. I hope that your hurt has passed. If it hasn’t, I wish you the strength to see yourself through to the other side of it.

And to everyone else, may more and more extras in your motion picture pop in to your story! I have this lamp sitting beside me right now. It’s old, and man is it ugly. But it’s the only possession that I have from my great grandmother, a woman I barely remember meeting. It’s my last remaining connection to a woman who I only met as a toddler, but is directly responsible for so much of who I am. And like the people we are capable of becoming if we would just connect a little more, that ugly lamp can’t shine unless it has somewhere to plug in.

*****

I was saddened yesterday to learn of the passing of a woman named Darlene, the wife of the man who took a chance on hiring my very green dad out of university. Winnipeggers, you probably know of Darlene and don’t even know it, as her fight has been the source of local media stories for some time. Not because of her illness, but because of the lengths that this woman and her family went to ensure that she received the best treatment possible.

Darlene’s demon was bowel cancer. Very advanced bowel cancer that was beyond the reach of effective treatment offered here in Manitoba. Darlene and her family did not accept this, and sought a second opinion in the United States. By chance, by fate or by cruel irony, the American clinic recommended a treatment which would give them hope.

And our medical system refused to provide it.

Let me tell you, living in the 21st century in a country who’s very culture is based on having each other’s back, this rattled me. How could this possibly happen in Canada? Yet that was the position Darlene found herself. At the very point in time when she needed our system the most, our system refused her. Sometimes I look back at my own fight and wonder in amazement how the heck we managed to make it this far, but I can’t begin to get my head around having to fight cancer AND a political bureaucracy that abandoned me.

But that’s what Darlene and her family did. Spending their own money on treatment, travel and accommodations, they took their cancer fight to Arizona, and their fairness fight to the courts.

More so than any family in The Fight that I have ever known, Darlene’s family left nothing on the table. When you are in the heat of these battles, all you feel is helpless, you don’t even notice your own strength. To Darlene’s family, I hope you know that there is an army of people out “here” that are so proud of you. You stood up and pushed back when the rest would have been bowled over. You upped the bar on courage and probably don’t even realize it. The legacy and timeless admiration that the rest of the world will have for your Darlene is something that cancer can never take from you.


Luv,
Julianna Banana

Monday, November 27, 2006 - The Nicholas News - God Help Us All!

Extra, extra, read all about it! Dad Has A Hery Bak!

Read all the Banana Family news that’s fit to print (along with some that aren’t) as seen by through the eyes of Editor-In-Chief and stinky brother, Nicholas, and roving on-the-scene reporter Julianna Banana in the new daily “Nicholas News”!

It all started the other night when my neglectful parents were out painting Lord knows what on the town while me and my stinky brother babysat our Auntie Tammy and Grant. Nicholas steadfastly denies ever touching the bathroom shelf that came crashing down when he, and he alone, was supposedly on the pottie. Casting a shadow over the carnage of pill bottles and broken glass like the dark cloud of truth, somebody had to tell mom and dad. Somehow.

Enter the “Nicholas News”. The first edition, which was written under his covers while the stinkster was supposedly sleeping (who knew that being an Achromat would come in handy!) and published when dad woke up the next morning. Well, technically he wasn’t awake per say when El Nacho Nicholas pulled off a perfectly executed cross body block, but buried somewhere in that moment, he delivered the premiere edition to my winded dad.

Since then, my stinky brother has been working hard on his business plan, flushing out marketing and pricing strategies, all the while keeping his reporting eyes wide open for scoops (take it from me, you don’t want to so much as fart in this house, lest a drawing of your butt ends up on the front page!). The first edition was free, but that was just a lost leader to suck you in. From here on, it’s a buck an issue. Two bucks for special editions and weekends. Hey all you kids out there, just imagine your parents having to PAY YOU to find out what mischief you were up to when nobody was looking…by God, this has Trump potential!

Issue #3 has yet to hit the newsstands, but the rag is already taking on a National Enquireresque feel, moving beyond the news of the day and focusing more on expose gossip that arguably should never see the light of day. The story of our delightful, choreographed seven-song Christmas concert in the basement – good stuff. The hideous account of an unnamed 38 year old father-of-two’s “hery bak”, complete with an equally hideous artist’s rendition – the Cochran, Liebowitz & Al “The Hammer” Shapiro Dream Team couldn’t have fought off that grounding (Hey, if the undershirt doesn’t fit, you must acquit...am I right or am I right?). Viva la presse libre!

*****

My clinic-mate Madelaine contacted me the other day. Like me, Madelaine relapsed in her CNS and has to spend more than her fair share of time up in the CK5 Spa. In her extra time up in the Spa, Madelaine has started dating a 12 year old young man named Andrew (Chris, has anybody told Andrew that he’s taken?). According to Madelaine, Andrew is quite the catch! Tomorrow (Tuesday), Andrew is undergoing a bone marrow transplant. Fellow cupids, it is our duty to stop by and wish Andrew and his family the strength and good health to see his transplant and full recovery through. Please stop by and send your well wishes to this courageous young man by clicking HERE.


Luv,
Julianna “Scoop” Banana

Sunday, November 12, 2006 - As Fate Would Have It

Welcome to Oma’s & Emia’s Fight Club!

First rule of Fight Club: talk about Fight Club.

Second rule of Fight Club: we don’t talk about Brad Pitt here, you can do that on your own time.

Third rule…ok, time out, I’m getting ahead of myself. More on Oma’s & Emia’s Fight Club later. In the meantime, please do me the favour of remembering that name.

*****

Many people have been asking me where have I been. Why so quiet, what’s going on? You all have been the helium in my balloon for so long, you deserve much more than the radio silence on here for the past few weeks. Yes, there’s been carpet chaos, but that was resolved a couple of weeks ago. Yes, there’s been Halloween, birthday parties, princess parties and hockey, but I’ve been busy before and still found the time to get on here.

The big reason that I have been so scarce is that I was scared (easy, I’m fine physically). I’ve known for weeks now that this was going to be my last update, and I was too scared and too teary-eyed to type “goodbye”. Waaay too final for me, man. And if there’s one thing you DON’T want in cancer Fight Club, it’s finalities and goodbye’s. But the plain truth as I saw it was that my purpose for being here jumped the shark back when I celebrated a fight well fought with my incredible wish trip to Orlando (Thank You again Rainbow Society!). I made my treatment finish line (touch wood, may I never have to race again), and there’s so many more deserving children out there who need your shoulders more than me. Go to them, I thought, the ten minutes you spend here could be ten life-changing minutes of support for someone who’s child is about to take their first back poke or dance with Mister Baxter. I knew the time was right, I could feel it.

I wrote my last ever update last week, hidden here in my basement while the rest of the house slept. The whole time I was bawling my eyes out. IF YOU ARE READING THIS, I OWE YOU MY LIFE!! My dad owes you his life, and that is not an exaggeration. And with love, gratitude and a pain I never dreamed possible when I first introduced myself to the e-world three short years ago, I said goodbye to you. And then…

…ZZZZT…

…the power went out, taking my goodbye with it. O-M-freaking-G, you have GOT to be kidding me! There’s chance, there’s coincidence, and then there’s fate. Three years ago, I didn’t believe in fate. Today, after experiencing and having a front row seat to uncountable and unexplainable, well, miracles, I see everything as talking to me! That wasn’t a red light when I’m late for a meeting, that was a 60 second gift of time to further compose myself, courtesy of the oblivious but good folks at The City of Winnipeg. That wasn’t just any old lady trying to write the longest cheque in the history of supermarket checkouts in front of me, that’s the Heaven-sent messenger reminding me to appreciate the courage that my great grandma has shown in recovering from her stroke.

So when Manitoba Hydro says “your document is MS Word document is vapour”, I say “ya, you’re right, this is not my time to say goodbye. I have work to do!” At the very least, the fate-enforced pause gave me time to reconsider my purpose on here, and I am happy to report that I have one again.

Which brings me back to Oma’s & Emia’s Fight Club. The thing is, I can’t tell you about it for another month. And I can’t tell you why I can’t tell you, either. Just tuck that name in the back of your mind until the first week of December, and puh-leeeease don’t leave me just yet!

In the meantime, if there is anyone out there who is, or knows of somebody who is, a graphic artist and someone net savvy enough to be a webmaster and might want to work on something with me, please contact me.

Still here and luving ya,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – Gatorland burned down?! This is up there with the saddest news I have ever heard. “Are all the gators going to be ok?” “Where did the gators go when there was the fire?” “I think the gators died, I feel sad for the gators.” “Is the fire going to burn down Disneyworld?” Gatorland was the first place we went to on my wish trip, and I loved it. And I’m going to miss it. And the poor gators.

Sunday, November 5, 2006 - ZZZT!

Whoa! I don’t know what fate was trying to tell me a few minutes ago, but it definitely got my attention. I literally just finished two emotional hours worth of updating explaining where I’ve been lately, what I’ve been thinking and what I think the future will bring for me, and…ZZZT…the power went out in my house for maybe 2 seconds, and all those words and thoughts are as gone as Jerry Springer’s Cha Cha. Unfortunately for fate, it typically takes a full-on temple hit with a mallet to get my head around anything, so I’ll have to meditate on that one.

Oh well, that’s e-life. We’ll try again tomorrow.

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Saturday, October 21, 2006 - Viva Las Vegas, Viva The Back Burner

They say what happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas. And that’s where my mom and typist/dad have been over the last week, which explains the radio silence on here. And what a trip it was! They did interesting things…



Met interesting people…



And shockingly, they actually came home with money in their pocket…



I’ll spare you the details because this page is about cute little ME, not old man Banana and his glamorous wife. But I will leave you with this little cliffhanger…there is a live stage version of The Price Is Right at Bally’s, it is completely authentic and identical to the tv tapings, the actual retail price for the Sharper Image hot/cold mini-fridge is $100, and somebody you know got to spin the Showcase Showdown wheel! Daaang, I love that town!

So what’s been new with me on the cancer front? I am happy to report “absolutely nothing”. Just been hanging out with Nonna and my stinky brother, still living in carpetless chaos while Liza and The Chairman of the Board do the strip. Real nice, eh?

Actually, it is nice. cancer consumes less and less of my thoughts with every passing day. The fear is just a simmering pot on the back burners of my emotional stove. Still there, never really off the stove, but it doesn’t stop me from cooking anything I want. And that’s a small price to pay for all the tastes life has to offer.

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Monday, October 9, 2006 - From Our Pit of Chaos to Yours, Happy Thanksgiving!


A beautiful wedding, a beautiful bride, and a beautiful flower girl!

Here’s how the day started:


Here’s how the day played out:


Here’s the lucky, albeit stinky, stud who caught the garter:

[Note from said stud: I have been assured that he is currently NOT on the market for any icky girls.]

And here’s how the day ended:



What a wonderful, but whirlwind trip to Calgary! Lots to say, and a few pictures to share, but I haven’t had much opportunity to share that with you because:

1) I got sick to my tummy the day after the wedding, puked before the plane, puked on the plane, ended up in children’s emergency at 1:00am when I did get back to Winnipeg, then gave this pukey puke bug to the rest of the family through the week! And if your morbid curiosity ever made you wonder, yes, those air sickness bags really do work like a charm. And;

2) Mom’s income tax rebate treat to herself, new carpet to replace the peach oasis that was our upstairs, was to be installed on Friday. Yes, I said WAS to be installed. This week, saddled with that special bug that I brought back from Cowtown, my parents cleared out our entire upstairs, which includes all of our bedrooms, ripped up all the carpet and underlay, hauled everything downstairs, and pulled out every last one of the 500,000 staples out of peachietopia. The installers show up on Friday, unroll the carpet, and then declare to my mom, “Um, the carpet is flawed, we can’t install it.” Huh?! What do you mean you can’t install it? Oh, and did I mention that it is Canadian Thanksgiving this weekend? Oh, and did I mention that we invited everyone from Brandon to our house to share in that special day? Oh, and did I mention that our house is in absolute CHAOS?!

And that is where I’m typing atcha from right now. The chaos. Thanksgiving never happened, we’re all sleeping on the floor…INDEFINITELY I might add since the carpet people did not get back to us that day like they promised, and the carpet took 6 WEEKS to get here in the first place. So needless to say, I haven’t exactly had time to spend on the ol’ puter.

[An aside for anyone out there in a service industry from a disgruntled customer: Sh*t happens. We all make mistakes and we all run face first into problems like our flawed carpet. Nobody begrudges that. But be absolutely clear on this, these are the moments that customer service excellence is born! It’s not the crap that happens to you, it’s what you do about the crap that happens to you that defines what your company is about.]

[An aside for anyone out there facing cancer or any other serious health issue: replace the word “company” with the word “character” in that last sentence, and that will pretty much sum up how you and your illness are going to get along.]

Truthfully, all this is but a small nuisance in the big picture of life (even though I can’t get to the drawer with my clean gitchies). I don’t have enough webspace to list everything that I am thankful for this holiday weekend. But as someone who has fought and survived cancer for half of my life, I wouldn’t be doing my karma duty if I didn’t share with you The Big One with you. The top of my gratitude list.

#1. I am thankful for discovering that there is so much more to be thankful for than I ever imagined.

May your turkey or vegan-friendly tofu near-bird be juicy, and may your glass always be full. Your drinking glass too.

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – Undoubtedly you have heard about the tragic murders of the 5 Amish girls in Pennsylvania this past week. But did you hear that several members of that Amish community attended the funeral of the killer this weekend to demonstrate their compassion and support to his family? Wow. I don’t care what your religious or personal belief system is, that is a divine grace and character that the rest of us can only aspire to.

Sunday, September 24 - Can You Spare Some E-Toilet Paper?

I may look like your typical adorable 6 year old little girl on the outside, but don’t let this button-cute exterior fool you. I am an infosponge. I keep my eyes open and my ears to the ground, and I have learned more than a thing or two from the big people in my life. I have learned that September truly is the best time of the year, as it marks the beginning of the new TV season and the premiere of Grey’s Anatomy (that oughta keep this website in new music through May). I have learned that whenever dad comes around, mom’s London London Bridge just don’t wanna go down.

And I have learned that cancer has almost nothing to do with my parents’ lives these days. In fact, I’m pretty much the only one in the house that talks about it anymore. I found a picture of me taken after I lost my hair. I don’t remember being bald (how awesome is that?!). Looking at that picture is surreal, because it isn't me, but it's me. I put it up on my door, and every once in awhile you may catch me staring at it. I wonder what I will remember when I’m big. Even if I don’t remember a thing or if my subconscious has blocked out the pictures in my mind forever, it has changed me. It’s like the time my grandma confessed to dad that, after being blind for two years, she has forgotten what he looked like and could not see him in her mind’s eye. Ya, that hurt. But ultimately, the pictures in your memory are far less important than the emotions that they created, and person that they made out of you. You don’t need to remember planting the seed to know that you love the flower. You just do. What parts of me have been irrevocably altered from experiences that I will never remember? I will never know. But I will always wonder.

Incidentally, dad stares at that picture a lot too, but he’s staring more at the tape. Specifically, the dozens of pieces of tape that I used to stick it to a finish that’s going to rip off like Steve Carell’s chest hair in The 40 Year Old Virgin. Ooohh Kelly Clarkson!

A special announcement from my house to yours: Please join me in welcoming the latest addition to the banana family, my Tamagotchi e-pet, Lulu! Ok, it’s actually Lulu Version 452…I had my Tamagotchi for a couple of months now, and I have killed off countless e-babies through e-neglect. The cycle goes something like this: I make my dad or my stinky brother reset my Tamagotchi, I name it Lulu, I watch it get born, it fills up to our virtual noses in Tamagotchi e-turds and it kicks the bucket wallowing in it’s own e-crap. Total elapsed time: 2 hours. Lather, rinse, repeat. Nicholas actually found a Tamagotchi and got hooked on it, too. Actually, I feel bad for the big guy. He found out that with the new Tamagotchi’s, if you collect 5000 points, you get a password to enter some special secret kingdom. And that became my obsessive compulsive brother’s reason for being, get into that kingdom at all costs. He worked for hours, managed to climb up to that magic 5000 points…aaaannnd…nothing. No password, no special secret kingdom, and he lost all his points. Oh MAN, you did not want to be in the house when that happened! That blow up would have made Ike Turner blush! But to his credit, he took a few hours to compose himself, and he got back on the e-horse. By the next day, he made managed to make it back up to 5000 points (which I can only assume meant that he turned off the sound and hid under the sheets playing it in bed)….aaaannnd…nothing! Turns out that he didn’t have the latest Tamagotchi version, and apparently you need a Tamagotchi “Version 3” for this to work, so the kid didn’t stand a chance. Poor, stinky guy. After a few more minutes and a few more tears, he went silent, and retreated to the basement to be alone. When he finally re-emerged, he walked up to dad in the kitchen and said “here dad, thank you for getting this for me, but you can use it for something else.” It was the battery from his Tamagotchi that we made a special trip to the store to buy just last week (he’s went through more than a few batteries…our cheap mom buys us Dollarama batteries, which last just long enough to put away the screwdriver that we use to crack open the back to change the battery).

Later that day, dad explained that he didn’t have anywhere to keep the battery and suggested that he keep it in his Tamagotchi for the time being. That sounded fair to Nicholas. You know, to help dad store the battery.

By the way, there are beeps coming from Nicholas’ room again.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. - One of my prospective suitors on my date dance card for the year 2030, "SuperCon" Connor, has announced that his Caring Bridge page will be removed soon. Let me just say, that is AWESOME news that life for SuperCon is moving along so well! But for me, it's sad, too. When you go through a fight like this, you really identify and connect with the people that go through the same things at the same time. Some of your brothers and sisters in arms, they don't all make it, and a piece of your own heart dies with them. But the ones that do make it, wow man, you just wish the world for them. Connor, if I never have the good fortune of crossing paths again, please know that I absolutely wish the world for you!



Thursday, September 14, 2006 - Fabulous Firsts


Hey, welcome back! I’ve been on a bit of a self-imposed hiatus these past couple of weeks. It’s not that I am breaking away from updating on here, I intend to keep on writing in one form or another. But I have to admit, I am really digging the fact that I don’t have to think about cancer if I don’t want to these days! Just last week, my parents forgot to give me “pinky” (better known as ‘Septra’ or ‘pink goo’ for those of you in the fight). If you can get past the whole embarrassing and shameful parental neglect thing, forgetting that I still needs meds is actually a pretty awesome. Not having to dwell on being sick, well, moments like that have been three years in the making. And I like it.

Yup, instead of the proverbial pills, pokes and puking, I’m wallowing in just being me. Cool stuff, man, it’s the start of that new normal I have been aspiring to (mind you, my family’s “normal” might not be all that normal!).

For example…I learned on TV that in the event of a bear attack, stop, drop and assume the beattle position.

For example…my dad was telling mom about a guy at work who started feeding the wild bears around his property, and has actually trained one of the bears to lick syrup off of his belly (honestly, it’s true…and messed up!). As dad

For example…I was at my mom’s friend’s wedding the other day. Now I love weddings, I’ve been planning mine on “Barbie’s My Fantasy Wedding” here on this computer for weeks. Buuut, sitting and waiting in the church for things to get going tests my patience. So I’m squirming in my seat when the man I thought was my dad leans over and whispers to me in his best undenominational foreign accent. “Hello young lady, my name is Alehandrooo, Alexandrooo, Ferdinandooo…(etc etc etc)…Tomatooo, Mashed Potatooo, Chichen Alfredooo…(this goes on awhile)…Level 5 Tornadooo, Bingooo Was His Nameooo…(seriously, my dad shoulda been a rapper)…Double Stuff Oreooo, David Nevarrooo Guatalupe, and I am from the country of Oompaloompastan, and I need your help. I cannot remember the word for that room in the house where you, how you say, go poop in da potty, boom boom from da bum bum…(this one goes on too, but I’ll spare you the distaste). Do you know what room that is?” To which I smartly answer “the bathroom?” “No, no, that’s not it. Wait, I remember now, it’s the bathroom! You no good for nothin’.”

Let me tell you, that was about the funniest joke I’ve ever heard, it’s right up there with the knock knock/banana & orange joke, or “The Aristocrats”! For days, I’ve been introducing myself around the house as “Androoo Mashed Potatooo Lupe, and you no good for nothin’!”

The past couple of weeks has also been full of some cool milestone firsts, too. My first day of Grade 1, meaning my first full day of school ever (did you see how focused I am in the picture at the top of the page?). My first time back in the YMCA swimming pool for my very first ever swimming lesson. My first time trying to do a back float while being held by a YMCA swimming instructor who wasn’t really paying attention, leading to my first time spitting up Y-water. Sure, I may have looked like I was on the verge of crying, but I was asking to go back the next day.

For the past couple of months, whenever my dad tucks my stinky brother to bed, he has been saying a different quote to him and getting him to reflect back what it means to him. It gives him something deep to chew on as he falls asleep. Here’s one for you to chew on…

Smile like your life depends on it. Because it does.

Luv,
Julianna Banana, Rossi Posse

Monday, September 4, 2006 - My Day of Infamy

The answers to the two must know, hot button issues here in my corner of the cyberworld…

Question #1: Just what the heck was that thing on my finger in the main picture at the top of this page?

No, it’s not a gynormous booger. Not my style, baby, I hide my boogies. It’s actually a bubble that I caught! Check that, it’s a mutant bubble, made from the finest space age scrub-resistant kevlar specifically designed to permanently coat the deck. I don’t know where they made that bubble juice, but I’m pretty sure Elmer’s had something to do with it.

Speaking of hiding, the mystery of the missing DVD remote was solved when my dad moved my bed to paint my room while I was at Nonna’s in Brandon this week. I have this, some would say, *annoying* habit of covertly sneaking off with the remote controls and hiding them with my stuff. It’s not like I’m not a clepto or anything like that, but they don’t call them remote “controls” for nothing…the keeper of the remote has the power of control. MwaahahaHA! [Note from Dad – You may be saying to yourself, “funny little girl, that’s cute!” It wears off. Trust me.] Well, the last time I did it, it came back to bite me in my Canadian butt. No movies until I found the DVD remote…and I forgot where I put it! Naturally, I pointed the finger of guilt at my stinky brother, which was a flat out lie [Note from Dad – You may be saying to yourself, “c’mon man, she’s just coming off of cancer treatment, cut her some slack”. The slack wears off. Trust me]. Three weeks passed with no movies upstairs. Thank goodness for bubble gum pink paint.

Question #2: So? What dress did I pick?

It was a tough decision, they all looked and felt so pretty and glamorous. The consensus choice in my guestbook, which happened to be my personal favourite, was dress #4. But in the end, we chose...drum roll please…none of the above! How unsatisfyingly anticlimactic, I know. But as anyone who knows my mom can attest to, the shopping ain’t over until the fat Mastercard lady sings. Somehow, perhaps by divine intervention, there was still a sliver of room on the card, and we used it to buy a dress from “A Wing and a Prayer” in Brandon. I’ll show it to you in pictures when I come back from the big wedding in Calgary at the end of the month.

By the way Shelly and Bryan, not to put any pressure on you, but all of us Clampetts from here in hillbilly Manitoba are totally counting on this being the wedding event of the decade. It has to last us until Chris’s wedding rocks the 2030’s.

*****

Do you remember what you doing three years ago today? That indistinguishable, uneventful September 4, 2003? My dad was driving home from the big Rider vs Bombers Laborday classic in Regina. My stinky brother was pouting because his first full day of grade one had no nap time. My mom was looking after a crabby little girl who couldn’t shake her fever.

And on September 4, 2003, my world stopped.

For every indistinguishable, uneventful day that passes as you travel through your life, the world stops for someone else. Us cancer families, we all have our day of infamy. It will never make the news, it won’t be commemorated by a politician looking for a photo op, but it is without doubt the single most significant and life-defining day for families like mine. Today, September 4th, just happens to be ours. This is how my dad described it on ALL-KIDS.

This past Laborday weekend, Julianna came down with a fairly high fever, and she was up most of the night throwing up. The nausea went away by the next day, but her fever persisted. By Wednesday, we were concerned that the she couldn't shake the fever and that she might have an ear infection. I took her to see her pediatrician that morning, and he looked Julianna over. He concluded that she seemed fine, and that the fever is probably the result of some sort of virus. He expected that the fever would probably break over night. Julianna has had a history with fevoral convulsions, so her doctor told me not to worry about her having one. They only happen within the first 6 hours of getting sick, he said.

That evening, I was downstairs with my son Nicholas when my wife screamed out to me. "Terry, she's having a convulsion!" I ran upstairs, immediately grabbed a big clock sitting on our TV and timed the convulsion while we comforted her though it. Fortunately, it wasn't a long one, and she went without air for less than a minute and a half. In the past, we have been told that these convulsions are actually pretty common and, unless she goes without air for some time, we didn't need to bring her in to see a doctor. Ya, RIGHT! If you've ever had the unfortunate experience of watching a child go through a fevoral convulsion, you'd understand the uneasiness and fear that it puts in your hearts as parents! Throw in the fact that I was just told only hours earlier not to expect them, and we were concerned. So us "overprotective" parents took her to children's emergency where she was looked over. Everything appeared fine, other than the fact that Julianna walked with a slight limp for the doctor. The doctor asked for our permission to run a test to screen her blood...just as a precaution. An hour and a half later, the doctor took us to a different examination room and brought a second doctor with her. She introduced him to us as a hematologist. That introduction sent a chill down my spine...why was HE here? He informed us that Julianna's white blood cell counts were marginally below what they would deem as acceptable and, because her neutrophil counts were also low, they wanted to keep her overnight for observation to see if the counts would rebound. The hematologist said that this is common, and that the counts should spring back and she could go home in the morning. However, he was not at all comforting, to me he appeared very nervous and I was suspicious of what he was thinking. No other possibilities were mentioned.

My wife Mary stayed with Julianna that night. Mary knew in her heart that it was leukemia, and she spent a lot of that night crying after Julianna went to sleep. By the time I got there the next morning, they had already taken the next round of blood work. It came back without change from the previous night and they arranged to take a bone marrow sample from Julianna's hip later that morning. When that time came, there was only room for one of us in the procedure room with Julianna, so my wife held her hand through it while I waited outside the room. Julianna was not sedated for the bone marrow (and in fact has never been sedated for her subsequent bone marrows either), and there have been but a handful of times in my life when I was as horrified as I was hearing her agony and not being able to comfort her.

Mary and I live a two hour drive away from both of our families. We had to tell them what was going on, but without scaring anyone in case it turned out to be nothing. I couldn't call my parents or my mother-in-law because I knew that I wouldn't be able to tell them without breaking down, so I called my brother-in-law and my sister instead. I tried to downplay what was going on, but I finally broke down talking to my sister. Within 3 hours, Mary's mom & brother and my sister & boyfriend were with us, waiting. When the lab results were back, a pediatrician covering for Julianna's regular doc (the guy she saw the morning before) came in to tell us that the pediatric oncologist would be in to discuss the results shortly. Looking back at it, I never even noticed the word "oncologist" as being out of place. An hour later (September 4, 2003, 5:50 pm), the oncologist and one of the nurses from the cancer clinic took Mary and I to a private room and told us the that Julianna has ALL. They were very thorough in their explanations, answering all of our questions (not that we could think of many at the time) and walking us through the treatment plan. Our talk was over 2 hours long, and we walked out of it bewildered, but focused. For our family waiting for us, those two hours felt like two days! And every minute we were in there longer, they appreciated that much more the severity of the situation.

All told, Julianna spent 5 days in the hospital before she was discharged. Mary never left her side.





I have lived one thousand and ninety-six days as a cancer survivor. That’s half of my life, and for all practicality, the only life I have ever known. In those 1,096 days, I have written hundreds of pages in this journal as I struggled to rationalize this attack on my health and on my psyche. There have been plenty of times when I have questioned whether or not I should be here writing about every time I blew my nose or wiped my bum. I have more than my fair share of people who wish I would just go away. Heck, I’ve had hate mail and nasty attack messages in my guestbook!

And then, once in awhile, I get an email like this one from a woman named Donna…

I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for sharing your family with the world. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, fears and insights as you dealt with so much with Julianna's leukemia and with the other things that your family had to deal with at the same time…

Now, I am dealing with my own cancer issues (note the lack of capitalization - you are so right about the lack of respect, and while it is a small thing, it helps me to think about the illness in that way - so thanks for that too). I am fortunate that my cancer is one with the most successful cure rate with the least invasive treatment. I thank God for that fact every day.

I also have to thank God every day for the fact that you were willing to share the love, heartbreaks, fear and joy of your family. I feel that this helped to give me more strength to try to deal with the stress and fear of not knowing enough initially and the waiting for test results. It helped me to put things in perspective, so that especially now, I am choosing to "live life" instead of taking the cautious way.

I guess that I really just want to say thank you to you, Mary, Nicholas and Julianna for reminding me that when it really comes down to what's important, the way to measure your life is in love.

No Donna, thank you! Knowing that my experience may have helped yours makes all these late nights clacking away at this keyboard worth it.

And THAT is what this page is all about. It’s not about my life, it’s about our connection. It’s not about ego, it’s about sharing. It’s not about me, it’s about us. How I wish that you never have to walk down this path, that you never come to experience your day of infamy. But if you do, here’s how I walked it and maybe, just maybe, you can draw on some of my experiences to make your walk a little more bearable.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Monday, September 4, 2006 - My Day of Infamy

The answers to the two must know, hot button issues here in my corner of the cyberworld…

Question #1: Just what the heck was that thing on my finger in the main picture at the top of this page?

No, it’s not a gynormous booger. Not my style, baby, I hide my boogies. It’s actually a bubble that I caught! Check that, it’s a mutant bubble, made from the finest space age scrub-resistant kevlar specifically designed to permanently coat the deck. I don’t know where they made that bubble juice, but I’m pretty sure Elmer’s had something to do with it.

Speaking of hiding, the mystery of the missing DVD remote was solved when my dad moved my bed to paint my room while I was at Nonna’s in Brandon this week. I have this, some would say, *annoying* habit of covertly sneaking off with the remote controls and hiding them with my stuff. It’s not like I’m not a clepto or anything like that, but they don’t call them remote “controls” for nothing…the keeper of the remote has the power of control. MwaahahaHA! [Note from Dad – You may be saying to yourself, “funny little girl, that’s cute!” It wears off. Trust me.] Well, the last time I did it, it came back to bite me in my Canadian butt. No movies until I found the DVD remote…and I forgot where I put it! Naturally, I pointed the finger of guilt at my stinky brother, which was a flat out lie [Note from Dad – You may be saying to yourself, “c’mon man, she’s just coming off of cancer treatment, cut her some slack”. The slack wears off. Trust me]. Three weeks passed with no movies upstairs. Thank goodness for bubble gum pink paint.

Question #2: So? What dress did I pick?

It was a tough decision, they all looked and felt so pretty and glamorous. The consensus choice in my guestbook, which happened to be my personal favourite, was dress #4. But in the end, we chose...drum roll please…none of the above! How unsatisfyingly anticlimactic, I know. But as anyone who knows my mom can attest to, the shopping ain’t over until the fat Mastercard lady sings. Somehow, perhaps by divine intervention, there was still a sliver of room on the card, and we used it to buy a dress from “A Wing and a Prayer” in Brandon. I’ll show it to you in pictures when I come back from the big wedding in Calgary at the end of the month.

By the way Shelly and Bryan, not to put any pressure on you, but all of us Clampetts from here in hillbilly Manitoba are totally counting on this being the wedding event of the decade. It has to last us until Chris’s wedding rocks the 2030’s.

*****

Do you remember what you doing three years ago today? That indistinguishable, uneventful September 4, 2003? My dad was driving home from the big Rider vs Bombers Laborday classic in Regina. My stinky brother was pouting because his first full day of grade one had no nap time. My mom was looking after a crabby little girl who couldn’t shake her fever.

And on September 4, 2003, my world stopped.

For every indistinguishable, uneventful day that passes as you travel through your life, the world stops for someone else. Us cancer families, we all have our day of infamy. It will never make the news, it won’t be commemorated by a politician looking for a photo op, but it is without doubt the single most significant life-defining for families like mine. Today, September 4th, just happens to be ours. This is how my dad described it on ALL-KIDS.

This past Laborday weekend, Julianna came down with a fairly high fever, and she was up most of the night throwing up. The nausea went away by the next day, but her fever persisted. By Wednesday, we were concerned that the she couldn't shake the fever and that she might have an ear infection. I took her to see her pediatrician that morning, and he looked Julianna over. He concluded that she seemed fine, and that the fever is probably the result of some sort of virus. He expected that the fever would probably break over night. Julianna has had a history with fevoral convulsions, so her doctor told me not to worry about her having one. They only happen within the first 6 hours of getting sick, he said.

That evening, I was downstairs with my son Nicholas when my wife screamed out to me. "Terry, she's having a convulsion!" I ran upstairs, immediately grabbed a big clock sitting on our TV and timed the convulsion while we comforted her though it. Fortunately, it wasn't a long one, and she went without air for less than a minute and a half. In the past, we have been told that these convulsions are actually pretty common and, unless she goes without air for some time, we didn't need to bring her in to see a doctor. Ya, RIGHT! If you've ever had the unfortunate experience of watching a child go through a fevoral convulsion, you'd understand the uneasiness and fear that it puts in your hearts as parents! Throw in the fact that I was just told only hours earlier not to expect them, and we were concerned. So us "overprotective" parents took her to children's emergency where she was looked over. Everything appeared fine, other than the fact that Julianna walked with a slight limp for the doctor. The doctor asked for our permission to run a test to screen her blood...just as a precaution. An hour and a half later, the doctor took us to a different examination room and brought a second doctor with her. She introduced him to us as a hematologist. That introduction sent a chill down my spine...why was HE here? He informed us that Julianna's white blood cell counts were marginally below what they would deem as acceptable and, because her neutrophil counts were also low, they wanted to keep her overnight for observation to see if the counts would rebound. The hematologist said that this is common, and that the counts should spring back and she could go home in the morning. However, he was not at all comforting, to me he appeared very nervous and I was suspicious of what he was thinking. No other possibilities were mentioned.

My wife Mary stayed with Julianna that night. Mary knew in her heart that it was leukemia, and she spent a lot of that night crying after Julianna went to sleep. By the time I got there the next morning, they had already taken the next round of blood work. It came back without change from the previous night and they arranged to take a bone marrow sample from Julianna's hip later that morning. When that time came, there was only room for one of us in the procedure room with Julianna, so my wife held her hand through it while I waited outside the room. Julianna was not sedated for the bone marrow (and in fact has never been sedated for her subsequent bone marrows either), and there have been but a handful of times in my life when I was as horrified as I was hearing her agony and not being able to comfort her.

Mary and I live a two hour drive away from both of our families. We had to tell them what was going on, but without scaring anyone in case it turned out to be nothing. I couldn't call my parents or my mother-in-law because I knew that I wouldn't be able to tell them without breaking down, so I called my brother-in-law and my sister instead. I tried to downplay what was going on, but I finally broke down talking to my sister. Within 3 hours, Mary's mom & brother and my sister & boyfriend were with us, waiting. When the lab results were back, a pediatrician covering for Julianna's regular doc (the guy she saw the morning before) came in to tell us that the pediatric oncologist would be in to discuss the results shortly. Looking back at it, I never even noticed the word "oncologist" as being out of place. An hour later (September 4, 2003, 5:50 pm), the oncologist and one of the nurses from the cancer clinic took Mary and I to a private room and told us the that Julianna has ALL. They were very thorough in their explanations, answering all of our questions (not that we could think of many at the time) and walking us through the treatment plan. Our talk was over 2 hours long, and we walked out of it bewildered, but focused. For our family waiting for us, those two hours felt like two days! And every minute we were in there longer, they appreciated that much more the severity of the situation.

All told, Julianna spent 5 days in the hospital before she was discharged. Mary never left her side.





I have lived one thousand and ninety-six days as a cancer survivor. That’s half of my life, and for all practicality, the only life I have ever known. In those 1,096 days, I have written over 400 pages in this journal as I struggled to rationalize this attack on my health and on my psyche. There have been plenty of times when I have questioned whether or not I should be here writing about every time I blew my nose or wiped my bum. I have more than my fair share of people who wish I would just go away. Heck, I’ve had hate mail and nasty attack messages in my guestbook!

And then, once in awhile, I get an email like this one from a woman named Donna…

I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for sharing your family with the world. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, fears and insights as you dealt with so much with Julianna's leukemia and with the other things that your family had to deal with at the same time…

Now, I am dealing with my own cancer issues (note the lack of capitalization - you are so right about the lack of respect, and while it is a small thing, it helps me to think about the illness in that way - so thanks for that too). I am fortunate that my cancer is one with the most successful cure rate with the least invasive treatment. I thank God for that fact every day.

I also have to thank God every day for the fact that you were willing to share the love, heartbreaks, fear and joy of your family. I feel that this helped to give me more strength to try to deal with the stress and fear of not knowing enough initially and the waiting for test results. It helped me to put things in perspective, so that especially now, I am choosing to "live life" instead of taking the cautious way.

I guess that I really just want to say thank you to you, Mary, Nicholas and Julianna for reminding me that when it really comes down to what's important, the way to measure your life is in love.

No Donna, thank you! Knowing that my experience may have helped yours makes all these late nights clacking away at this keyboard worth it.

And THAT is what this page is all about. It’s not about my life, it’s about our connection. It’s not about ego, it’s about sharing. It’s not about me, it’s about us. How I wish that you never have to walk down this path, that you never come to experience your day of infamy. But if you do, here’s how I walked it and maybe, just maybe, you can draw on some of my experiences to make your walk a little more bearable.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Friday, August 25, 2006 - A Word About Pat Josephson

From Julianna's dad...

It’s my mom’s birthday today. She would have been 62. She should have been 62. Enjoying a well-deserved retirement, and playing my kids.

Instead, she spent the last few years of her life in pain and in the dark due to the cruelty of diabetes. I have one particular memory of my mom that will haunt me forever. I remember her struggling to make out a shape on a CCTV magnifier. It was a picture of Julianna. Even though Julianna was three when mom passed away, my mom never had the blessing of being able to see what she looked like. Knowing that has always hurt me, and I can’t even imagine how much that must have hurt her. Mom was a recipient of a Woman of Distinction award for a lifetime of hard work and wonderful deeds, there’s an award in her name at Assiniboine College where she worked until illness forced her to retire. That’s the calibur and quality of person that we’re talking about here. She did not deserve this fate, and neither does Nicholas and Julianna for being denied the birthright of knowing their grandma.

I have been chronicling our experiences staring down cancer for close to three years now. The reason I started this web page in the first place was that I was sinking in grief with Julianna’s diagnosis, and I had to find some way to drive that poison out of me. But my dilemma was that, being the typical guy that I am, I didn’t want to talk about my problems. Especially this one, the biggest, most painful one of my life. How am I supposed to tell my mom about the unsedated lumbar puncture and the spinal tap that found one stray leukemia cell that wasn’t supposed to be there but that we’re supposed to ignore without breaking down? She was the strongest woman I’ve ever known, and although I was certainly entitled to break down, I just didn’t want to do that in front of my mom and dad every time I picked up the phone. I needed my family to know that we were going to be ok, that we were going to stare this challenge down and we were going to do it with a smile and a laugh, just like we always do. Even the times that I didn’t believe it myself.

But a funny thing happened along the way. The more I looked for the lighter ways of looking at the dark, the more I started to believe it. Looking through the eyes of my Julianna Banana became a self-fulfilling prophecy, and sitting here today on the other side of treatment, I now know that staring this challenge down with a smile and a laugh is THE ONLY way to make it! All those times my blind mother flashed the back of her hand and told me to “pick a finger”, she was training me for something bigger. Life is never so serious that it has to be taken seriously.

To my Julianna, if you are reading this as an adult, there is something that I really want you to know. The night before grandma passed away, she was comatose by this point and I was keeping her company at her bedside through the night. This was two months after you relapsed, and I was aware that grandma’s time was short and that she was going to leave this world carrying the worry of not knowing if you were going to be ok. So I started talking to her about how wonderful you were doing in your treatment…and somehow she mustered up the strength to open her eyes and said something to me from under her oxygen mask.

They were the last words she ever said to me. In fact, they were the last words. I don’t know what they were, but they were about you, and they helped her find her peace.


Julianna’s dad



Tuesday, August 22, 2006 - If One Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words...


My Summer In Pictures


Canadian Trivia Time: Did you know that here in Winnipeg, kids don’t go back to school until AFTER the Labour Day weekend? Hey all you American buddies already back to cracking the books…SUCKAAAHS!!! Still eating Pop Tarts on the deck at 11:00am over here, baby, and living the good life!

You may call it summer, but up here it’s called ‘hockey off-season’. While there is still a hint of heat left in this icebox known as Canada, I thought I would reflect back before puck drop. In pictures, of course.


True fact, Manitoba is blessed with over 100,000 lakes. Yes, this is truly cabin country. For my family, we find it more economically viable to keep our friends in booze than to actually buy a cabin. One of the stops on The Banana Cabin Leach Tour 2006 was at Buffalo Point, just north of the Minnesota border. We didn’t even pay for the carrots.



Here I am savouring the majesty that is The Great Outdoors on my very first ever camping experience! Uh, ya, thanks for the invite, guys, I’ll be sure to return that favour during hurricane season. What you can’t see in this picture is that I am actually gazing out from under my wet poncho (which was borrowed…if a chicken doesn’t literally lay an egg in the frying pan, I don’t think my parents could plan a breakfast) across the camping bay at Casa De Lytle as ‘73’ kicked back in her smoking jacket sipping fresh brewed coffee. I think she was getting a massage and a pedicure, but it was hard to make out through that sheet of rain.



Once we dried off, it was time to get wet. Off to the Spruce Woods beach to play “hydraulic engineer”. Thanks for the idea, dad, did I ever mention how exciting it is to be your kid?



Last week our house was in chaos. Not the normal chaos, but the kind of chaos that you get when all the toilets are removed from the house to install ceramic tile. Seven people plus one standup shower plus one potty = stinky, slimy kids plus one upset mommy. Bad math, man, baaaad math! In the distant future when the floors are changed again (which judging by the amount of “Flip This House” my mom watches, should be in about 3 months), somebody’s going to find the Sharpie surprise that me and my stinky brother left on the linoleum.



And if you have followed this page for any length of time, you knew this picture was coming! “Back to work, slave, this ain’t no daycare!”



Short on cash and with no allowance or job prospects, times were getting desperate. I didn’t have much choice but to start pulling teeth for fairy bucks. Keeping in mind that I just turned 6 in June, you won’t believe how many times the Tooth Fairy has visited me…



This is me with my cumulative spread of fairy cash. The going rate for teeth at our house is a measily 3 bucks per tooth (that’s a loonie and a toonie for every tooth). If the rest of my teeth didn’t look so healthy, I’d think that the radiation was messing with my choppers. Time will tell I guess, but one thing is for sure, that Tooth Fairy is almost as cheap as my parents!



Speaking of radiation, I came across a picture of me when I was bald. Do you know that I don’t even remember being bald?! Of all the blessings that come with the beast that is pediatric cancer, that has to be one of the best. I can’t tell you how wonderful that was for mom and dad to hear, that some of the hardest part of my treatment is lost to me forever. The picture above is me going through my radiation photo album and explaining it to Beary.

Just as an aside, Barry the Bear is not the only baby that I’m caring for these days. I just got one of those Tamagotchi virtual pets, for which my dad personally vows vengeance on the Japanese electronics industry! Did you know that those things poop? 24/7?



And finally, in honor of my stinky brother’ birthday this week, I promised that I would post a nice picture of us together. This one is my favourite!


Happy Big-Niner Birthday Nicholas!

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Tuesday, August 15, 2006 - AWOL

Hey everyone! Sorry I've been AWOL, but I have been out of town camping (my very first ever camping trip EVER, so of course our tent nearly broke down, a monsoon hit and my stinky brother had to pee like 5 times), and this week my manly he-dad is laying tile (ok, technically Uncle Tony is laying tile, and dad is his monkey). All in all, I'd have to say that this is what summer is supposed to be all about...so busy with the stuff everybody else has been doing the past three years that I don't have time to worry about being sick. Baby, it just doesn't get any better than that.

Wait, check that...clean bloodwork at last Friday's clinic, that ups the good-news stakes.

I've got some pictures I'll share with you when manly dad finishes the tile work that you have to see. I'll give you a bit of a verbal preview...my new front tooth is growing in and my new nick name is Nanny McJay. Does anyone know a good orthodontist that does pro bono?

Luv,
Julianna McBanana

P.S. - No decision made on the dress yet, but I thank you all very much for your help! And yes, dress 1 and dress 4 were the same, but they were different colors and different sizes.

P.S.S. - This Sunday, my brother turns one year stinkier.



Monday, August 7, 2006


“Why cancer Patients Need Music”

- A Long-Trip-For-A-Short-Point Essay By Julianna Banana


My dad is a freak.

Have you ever heard of Pavlov’s Dog? It’s the term the world knows as one of the most famous scientific discoveries in the physiology of digestion. But more importantly it was the inadvertent discovery that what you think affects you physiologically.

So back to why my dad is a freak. When he was a student working as what would later become the company that he works for today, he gave what would go down as arguably the worst presentation in “Boardroom 2” history. Basically, his nerves got the best of him and he froze. As an aspiring engineer, you just can’t get by without some sort of ability to communicate orally (which naturally explains why engineers are always beating off the hot chicks with a stick…well, they’re beating someth…um, forget that thought!). With the motivation of embarrassment at his back, he took to self help books and tapes, looking for ways to overcome his anxiety and fear of public speaking. The first leg of his big personal breakthrough was reading about the “act as if” principle. You know, like if you aren’t the most confident person in the room, that doesn’t have to matter if you can make yourself “act as if” you are. And by acting as if you are, well son of a gun if you don’t start to feel it in yourself. Sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy. So simple, right?

Ya, right. Try telling yourself to “act as if” when you’re hyperventilating! If he could just somehow get past that first minute without passing out, crying like a school girl or hurling, maybe he could get somewhere. Enter the dogs. Did you know that Pavlov trained dogs to drool at the sound of a dinner bell? Not the food, not the smell, but the actual noise of the dinner bell. The dogs learned to associate the ring of the bell with the fact that they were about to be fed, to the point that the food wasn’t even necessary to get their stinky doggy breath mouths watering with saliva.

(What does dog spit have to do with my dad’s performance anxiety and fighting cancer? Hang with me, this is a long trip, but I promise there IS a destination.)

So if it is possible to evoke a physiological response from a dog out of an action as trivial as ringing a bell, could that work on a marginally more cognitively aware creature like dad? In the name of not looking stupid again, he put it to the test. For weeks, whenever he was alone (trust me, being alone for this is VERY important…if he did this in front of his future wife, there would not be a Julianna Banana to write this today!) and a good song came on the radio or on his walkman, he would crank the music, purposely hyperventilate, run in place, beat his chest like a crazed gorilla and basically did whatever he had to do to get totally PSYCHED. And once his heart was racing and his eyes were wide like a ten-cup-a-day java junkie, he would start to tap his right index finger. Over and over, song after song, week after week, he would freak and tap his finger. Freak and tap his finger. Over and over. Until one day, he didn’t need the music. He could draw out that same rush of energy just by tapping his finger! Like a drooling dog, dad was trained. When he had to speak in public and the inevidable nerves would hit, all he had to do was “tap his trigger finger” and he had what he needed physiologically to act as if the nerves weren’t there.

By now you are surely thinking two things: 1. “that poor Julianna wasn’t kidding, her dad really is a freak”, and 2. “wow, there’s five minutes of my life that I will never get back!” Well, here’s where I tie it altogether. The key to dad’s trigger finger (and to his freakdom) is music. Short of whacking yourself in the side of the head, I cannot think of a single (booze-free, drug-free) thing in this world that you can do to better evoke a controlled physiological response than to listen to good tunes! In fact, I challenge you to come up with a better one. Music has the power to motivate. Music has the power to emote. Music has the power.

No matter where you go, no matter what you do, ultimately you live your entire life within the confines of your head. When you are facing an enemy as powerful and merciless as cancer, you need absolutely every mental weapon at your disposal. cancer may have the power to take your legs or your lungs or your marrow, but it does NOT have the power to take your will without your consent! And that, I believe, is the true battle ground with cancer. Not in the lymph nodes, but in the synapses. Not in the tissue, but in the spirit. When cancer takes your leg, corrupts your lungs or infiltrates your marrow, it steals a level of control right from under you. TAKE THAT CONTROL BACK! I do not mean to trivialize the horrific impact of an amputation or a relapse, but understand that while you cannot take back the physical control, you CAN take back control of your will, of your spirit. You need strategies, you need techniques, and for my money, music has the power. So leverage it.

It’s not just about getting pumped, but when you need the extra energy to face a treatment, blast AC/DC on the way to clinic. When you need to grieve or to feel your pain, add some texture to your emotions by playing Under The Raibow by that big Hawaiian guy. When you need to divert your attention away from the fight altogether, put on some top 40 and shut out the world. It’s all good, man, and it all has a purpose. But recognize that you can be the driver or the passenger in this trip. Drivers choose to drive. Passengers forfeit their choice to cancer. Using the music that moves you is choosing to drive, it is an act of control.

And what you control, cancer can’t.


Rock on,
Julianna Banana

Monday, July 31, 2006 - Fried Chicken, Fired Dad

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Frolicking around in the water at our friends’ cabin on the beach at Buffalo Point, my dad came up with another one of his he-thinks-it’s-brilliant ideas…we could play “fried chicken”. We’d hop into the water and soak ourselves in water. Then, run back onto the beach, “roll around in the seasoning” until we’re completely covered in batter, and the fried chicken would be ready for the deep fryer (the lake). Fool-proof fun…until you figure out that the sandy seasoning gets in EVERYWHERE and a simple dip into the deep fryer doesn’t cut it! Let me tell you, the restaurant manager, aka Mom, was not impressed!

I’m going to be the flower girl at my cousin’s wedding in Calgary this fall! This, of course, means dress shopping. Feel free to cast your vote on Dress 1, Dress 2, Dress 3, Dress 4, Dress 5 or Dress 6.

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Wednesday, July 26, 2006 - Upside Down

I’ve been reading through my journal for a “project” that I’m working on, starting right from Day 1. Here’s a few quick observations…

- Wow, have I ever changed (if you insist on labellling it, I much prefer "evolved" over "flakey")! I was so naïve before my relapse. My, what a beautiful way to be. This world of ours, the world of ‘oma’s and ‘emia’s, is completely upside down. In our world, knowledge isn’t power, knowledge is fear. Hope is power. Determination is power. And compassion is devine.

- Man, I didn’t realize how preachy I can be, I’m amazed there’s anyone left out there that still give me the time of day. It must be for the tunes!

- Far be it for me to armchair psychoanalyze (Ha! Ya RIGHT!), but in retrospect, I have gone through a series of distinct phases. Constantly changing. Never sure what my priorities will be. Different day, different mood. Basically 30 months of PMS. I suspect that most of us cancer and life-threatening illness families go through something like this:

Phase I: Terror of the diagnosis

Phase II: The quest for knowledge

Phase III: The regret of the quest for knowledge - Knowlege isn't the kind of power you wanted

Phase IV: Pickles (Tobacco companies, you have it completely bass-ackwards…ditch nicotine, stuff your death sticks with dexamethasone and prednisone and buy stock in all-night cheese, pretzel and mushroom stores).

Phase V: Acceptance

Phase VI: Rejection of Acceptance

Phase VII: Nervous, But Manageable Calm

Phase VIII: Pre-End of Treatment Paranoia

Phase IX: Party Like It’s 1999 End of Treatment

PhaseX: Post-End of Treatment Paranoia

Phase XI: The Cured Monster Syndrome – “I got a hang nail, take me to clinic. NOW! WAAAAAA!!!”

[Note from Dad: For those of you in the good fight who have yet to reach Phase XI, my solicitor confirmed that you are legally entitled to change your little sweetie's name to Hypocondro-leeza, HMOnster or Bielzibaby.
You can even call her Donna, and nobody other than your spouse needs to know that when you day "Donna", you mean "Prima-Donna".]

Phase XII: Ok, What Does Normal Look Like Again?


I’m hoping that Phase XIII turns out to be something like “What was cancer treatment like again?” or “No more getting away with flushing crayons down the toilet because you’re neotropenic”, but time will tell. But so far, it’s looking like more whoopin’s in my future! I’ve never looked so forward to a time out.

Hey, did I happen to mention that my parents got me and my stinky brother one of those bigger inflatable pools? On a completely unrelated subject, let’s say, hypothetically, that your not-good-for-much dad, hypothetically, let your pool chemical situation get away from him so badly that, still hypothetically, the water turned so green that Ducks Unlimited is considering protecting it as a natural wetland? If you have any pool experience, what would you recommend doing to bring that water back to a nice clear blue? Hypothetically?

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Ok, that song is just to piercing and depressing, so it's gotta go! Enjoy a little Amanda Stott, I'll be back to explain the significance a little later.

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Saturday, July 15, 2006 - Sing With Me


Before I get into things, I have a favour to ask of you. Click here to meet a girl in North Carolina named Sarah Smith. She is not much older than my stinky brother. If you have ever been to her Caring Bridge site before, you will undoubtedly remember her because 1.) Sarah’s unforgettable smile is infectious, 2.) her family’s attitude and faith is inspiring, and 3.) her mom chronicles her battle with neuroblastoma in one the most amazing journals that you will ever read. Truly, it’s prose. I was saddened to learn that Sarah has relapsed, and when you relapse with this type of cancer, you’re in tough. The Smith family could use your words of encouragement like never before.

*****

Alright ladies, put your bras back on, there’s no Aerosmith concert in here!

I know what you’re thinking. A rock anthem? The kid ran out of music. That’s not the case, I have tunes queued up. It’s like this…have you ever had the radio on and a song that you’ve heard a gazillion times before comes on, and it’s like you are hearing it for the first time because you never paid attention to the words? This song is my case in point. How many times have you heard it in your life? Probably like a hundred times. But have you ever really listened to it? (ok, so I’m finding introspection in Aerosmith…I never claimed that there a deep end in my intellectual pool). The next time someone says to me “Hey Banana kid, you just finished two and a half years of cancer treatment and you’re waiting out the next five years on pins and needles relapse watch, sum up for me in less than 4 minutes how you see life these days while I waive this lighter in the air”, I think I’ll just play this song and ask them to sing with me.

*****

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I would have never chosen this suck-hard road, but since cancer was in my cards, I truly won the treatment lottery to have it in Winnipeg, Canada! Our captain Dr. Y, the best-anywhere, available-anytime Three Amigos nursing team behind that door by the treehouse, The Girls (and Man) of The CK5 Spa, aaaaand…

I received a rather complementary email the other night from a Child Life Specialist from clinic. Complementing me? Are you kidding me?! Without them, there IS NO ME! I wouldn’t be here today to push my stinky brother off his dingy thingy in our new inflatable pool, or to tell you that I just lost my SEVENTH baby tooth, without the Children’s Hospital Child Life team dragging me across the treatment finish line. Whether you are killing a few hours in the waiting room, or killing a few weeks in isolation, they do the things that help remind us that we are still kids, not patients. cancer treatment is every bit as tough as you probably imagine it to be, and the latest and greatest protocols that medicine has to offer is absolutely useless if you can’t find the strength to survive the treatment. So you tell me, is the person who helped you face the back poke any less important to your treatment and your survival than the person who gave you the back poke? Exactly. Our Child Life team are Made-In-Manitoba heroes, plain and simple, and we are so blessed to have them.

*****

GOOOOOAAALLLLLL Italia Azzuri!! Well, the party has finally settled down here in Winnipeg. Mom and dad took me and my stinky brother down to the big victory party on Corydon Avenue to prove to us that we aren’t the only Italians in town (dad doesn’t count, he’s an Italian wannabe). In fact there were hundreds, maybe thousands, and do they ever know how to party! Nicholas fit in the best, sporting his schmancy Del Piero jersey that Nonna brought back for him from Italy this spring. Not that I didn’t hold my own…belissima!

Just as an aside, city planners across North America, take note. We have our own “made in Winnipeg” approach to crowd control…we don’t dispatch police or SWAT teams, we dispatch parking commissionaires. Ugh!

*****

I’m laying down the gauntlet…as of today there is a moratorium on tears around here for the rest of July. Come heck or high Kool-Aid, you are NOT leaving here without a smile! I was blown away at all the wisdom and humor that you all shared with me with that whole “Cup of Life” thing. So in the spirit of the new mandate, and since a hundred heads are better than one, I have another little life introspection task that I hope you will join me in. It’s as simple as this, finish the sentence “Life is…” with your best analogy of how you see life. Mind-altering, life-changing, belly-laughing, whatever. It’s the journey, not the destination, and there is no wrong answer! Here’s a few to get you started.

Life is poker: it’s not the cards that you are dealt, it’s how you play them.

Life is a game of Boggle. No matter how you shake it, the answers are there to those who look.

Life is a lugnut: the tighter it gets, the more you’re screwed.

(in my best Forrest Gump…) Life is like a box of chocolates. Not that I’d know, Auntie Tammy only leaves me the half eaten pink ones.

Luv,
Julianna

Wednesday, July 5, 2006 - Lessons From Loss

Another reading from The Good Book of Goo Goo Dolls, Better Days 3:16

“And the one poor child that saved this world
And there's 10 million more who probably could
If we all just stopped and said a prayer for them.”

Hey, it’s “dad” here. Welcome to my bipolar episode!

The rest of the family are away at Clear Lake this week, which means that I’m sitting here all alone. Thinking. That’s never a good thing! I don’t admit it enough, but I really need them. Without them here, I do stupid things like staying up until 3am last night watching the world’s worst sci fi movie ever, “They Live” starring Rowdy Roddy Piper (for the record, the humans won). I can handle getting up for work on 4 hours sleep, but what isn’t good these days is Terry’s unabated, untempered and undisturbed freeform thinking. When my family is gone, you could literally wave your hand in front of my face and there’s maybe a fifty-fifty chance that I’ll even notice! But the bigger reason that I need them around is that my thinking is darker without them. I’m very much a happy-go-lucky, laugh for the sport of it kind of guy…when I know that I’m going home to a full-body Nacho Libre frog splash from that crazy daughter of mine, or knowing that I cannot have a single conversation in person or on the phone that my snoopy son isn’t convinced that it’s his duty to weigh in with his opinion! Without them, I lose my balance.

Anyways, back to Goo Goo Dolls and what’s on my mind. Julianna may not have changed the world, but she absolutely changed mine. My world has been completely flipped upside down since that first trip to the emergency room almost three years ago. In some ways I’m proud to say I’m a better, stronger man, and yet in other ways I’m ashamed to say that I am weaker. Who knows, maybe deep down this is who I’ve been along, and all this emotional intensity just served as a big magnifying glass to what makes me me. But my world, my sense of which way’s up and what I can and can’t control, that will never be the same.

In this new world of mine I’ve learned that it IS possible to laugh, and dare I say life’s quintessential survival skill, in the face of fear and despair. I couldn’t live with it hanging over my hear 24/7, I’m just not wired that way. I needed to learn that the threat of losing life doesn’t make it any less beautiful, it just makes life more precious. And so the celebration must go on.

That’s not to say that I haven’t done my fair share of emotional hiding, ask most people that know me up close and personal, I’ve been the Lance Armstrong of ducking and denying (and eating)!

But there was no ducking at my niece’s grad last week. Wonderful ceremony, everybody looked great, felt proud. And then there was that slide show. One at a time, every student’s baby or toddler picture followed by their grad picture. For everyone else in that room, it was a cute picture of accomplishment, the visual proof that these young adults did it, they arrived. But for me, it was a taunt. To be at my Julianna’s graduation watching her and her pimply friends throw their hats in the air in celebration, that’s one of my most prized dreams that helps keep my eye on the prize. But it is not certain. And as each picture came up the laughs of the audience (and to the song “Rainbow Connection”…more salt in the wound because that song was playing on here at the time), it became painfully clear to me that no matter where I am, no matter what I do, I’ll never be more than one ring away from “the call”. What matters most to me in this entire world can be taken away from me in an instant. I don’t have pretty foo foo words for how that feels…it just blows.

I was pretty numb by the end of that picture show, it’s a good thing the lights were out. But when my little self-pity fit had passed and I was driving home, the experience served to help me appreciate the huge impact that a few others have had on me. I did in fact graduate from high school, but while Julianna’s uncertain future is but a fear to me, for these families, their loved one’s passing was reality…and it is wrong that I have never expressed my appreciation for what knowing their loved ones has done for me in becoming who I am today. I could not have become the dad that I need to be for my son living with a visual impairment and for my daughter fighting cancer without what you and your loved one have unknowingly taught me.

Understand that the families of these people probably don’t even know or remember who the heck I am! But who knows, perhaps these words will somehow find their way to them, that the lives and spirits of their loved ones had a significant, lasting impact on at least one guy out “there”. And that if their impact reached me, without doubt it reached countless others out there who never had the opportunity, or did not know how, to tell them.

To the Shearer family, I used to play hockey with your Murray way back in Westridge Community Centre days. I remember Murray skating with me and hacking around with me even though I was clearly the pokiest kid on the ice. I remember that it was cool that he went to the school that my dad taught. I remember sitting on my front steps when my dad told me about his passing, and trying to help me understand just what that meant. And I remember how that blew my world. I only vaguely had my head around what dying even meant, and it was for old people, not for kids and definitely not for buddies. All my life, I wondered if we would have been friends.

To the Grossart family, I used to go to elementary school with your daughter. I remember thinking that she was about as awesome as a girl could get, although I can’t say that it was a crush because girls didn’t make much sense to me when I was nine (they still don’t!). I was younger than your son Ian, but since he was the big brother to your daughter, I remember having that much more respect for him because of it. I remember how scary it was learning that Ian had passed on, because I had a big sister and she was (and still is) a constant to me. Ever since Meadows, I have hoped that your daughter was doing ok, living the happiness that she deserved.

To the Hamill family, I only came to know your son after your younger son had passed away. I remember when he took me to his little brother’s grave, and how that made absolutely no sense to me. Why are we here? What do we need livers for anyways? I vividly remember how grief stricken he was, and how scared that made me feel as a twelve year old. Then, it seemed like he just disappeared and I lost a friend. I remember feeling awkward, but relieved, when I saw your son one time in high school. Awkward because I didn’t know what to say, but relieved because it meant he was ok. I know it makes no sense, but knowing that his little brother had passed and then never seeing him again, deep down I guess I thought maybe he had died too. I never asked because I was too scared of the answer. I am so grateful for knowing your son, I would not be the dad that I am to my son, the big brother of a younger sibling staring down a life-threatening illness.

To the Tylipski family, I never knew your son Brian, I just knew of him as a fellow Oxford kid and as someone that my dad taught. I was too young to really understand leukemia, all I knew was that it was really, really bad. Man, I know it all to well now. I want you to know that I hold your son the same regard that a veteran holds a soldier on a war memorial. With honor and with gratitude for the sacrifice that he made in his own fight in advancing the medicines and practices that I hope upon hope will save my daughter’s life. The road that I walk today, you paved yesterday. I will never forget your son as long as I live.

To the Gara family, Brent and I were born on the same day in the same hospital, and probably even shared the nursery, too. We never went to the same school, but became fast friends as fellow video game junkies hanging out at JJ’s Arcade beside McDonalds. And I remember where I was, what I was doing and the song I was listening when my buddy told me that he had died. By this time in my life, I was old enough to understand what a tragedy this was. You know what a funny, lively young man he was better than anyone, he was your son. I know I’m just a stranger to you, but I want you to know that I know it too.

To the Bradbury family, Darren we haven’t so much as talked since you moved away in elementary school, but I knew the second I saw the picture of your son in the newspaper exactly who he was. And I am so very sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine, man, I just can’t imagine. It wasn’t very long after your son’s passing that my daughter was diagnosed with cancer, and my subsequent experiences made me feel ashamed that I never tracked you down to express my condolences. I sincerely hope that the each day brings you and your family more smiles than tears when thinking about your son. I also want you to know that there is a little six year old girl in Winnipeg who’s dad came to appreciate her that much more at the very point in her life when she needed it most, and that is a gift that your son gave to her.

Yours in gratitude,
Julianna’s dad

Monday, June 26, 2006 - Full of Firsts

Wow, what a whirlwind week! This has truly been a week of firsts in the JB household.

This was my stinky brother’s first time at camp, and his first time away from home on his own. I guess that makes him officially “big”, no matter how much he tried to back out once he was finally on the bus. Nicholas had a great time out at Camp Indigo with all of MY nurses, doctors and clinic buddies. Lucky guy, I’m big-time jealous. Next year, I’ll be there on the bus with him. And don’t tell him I said this, but I secretly missed him! It was just waaay too quiet without the big guy. Like dad said after he got up and brushed his teeth Saturday morning, “Jeez, I’ve usually answered 30 questions by now.”

This week was my first gala! The event was The Safeway “We Care” Gala which honoured the amazing volunteer efforts of Safeway employees across Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Northern Ontario who raised money for local charities and causes. Awesome, man, I’m humbled by the efforts and the results. I was particularly pleased to see the Crestview Safeway recognized for raising over $30,000 for The Rainbow Society, which made my wish trip to Florida possible. Thank you Crestview Safeway, y’all rock! This is a picture of me at the gala with the Rainbow Society representatives (ie. half of the staff!) and with the fundraising captains from Crestview Safeway.



My stinky brother won the table centrepiece by “skilfully” managing to have his birthday land on the 20th of the month…and you should have heard that kid go on and on about his “accomplishment”. Kinda reminded me of a great quote by former Dallas Cowboys coach Barry Switer, “some people are born on third base and go through life thinking they hit a triple.” Way to hit that one out of the park, Nicholas!

This week was my first time partying until one in the morning! And if my mom partying until sunrise is any hint of what’s in store for future, this won’t be the last late night. The event was the big surprise 25th anniversary party put on for my Uncle Tony and Auntie Shawna (I don’t know what kind of “Big Love” Utah math Auntie Shawna used to calculate her 25th anniversary and 39th birthday in the same year, but I have some questions). Great party, great people, I can’t wait for their 50th when I can drink!

While I’m on that subject, this week I had my very first shot of Coca Cola (yes, you read that right, my stick-in-the-mud parents have never let me have Coke before, can you believe that?). WHOA, baby, that’s the good stuff right there! Without a word of a lie, I took a sip, paused, my eyes went wide as saucers, and I liked it so much I CLAPPED! So who exactly was behind this breach of cola protocol? Of course…



Finally, this week will be the first time one of our family’s “Next Generation” will graduate from high school! My cousin Danielle, already loaded to the armpits last night’s awards ceremony, finally gets her hands on that diploma later today. This of course means two things: 1) Danielle has officially arrived, and 2) you need an abacus to figure out Auntie Tammy’s age. Congratulations, Danielle, the whole family is crazy proud of you! And watch out for your mom, her hips are getting pretty fragile at this age.


Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. – GOOOOOOOAAAALLLL!!! Did ya see that finish to the Italy / Australia soccer game yesterday? Whoa, do I love the World Cup!

Monday, June 19, 2006 - Pfull Circle

Hey Madison! I wish you could have come up here so I could have met you. It was very nice to meet your super-cool mom, I hope we find a way to cross paths again in the future. You know the makeup you picked out for me? I managed to put some on almost every doll and stuffed animal that I own!

To bring the rest of you in on this personal conversation, THE hub of American good will, Pflugerville Texas, dispatched a one-woman delegation to come visit me! The Pflugerville goodwill ambassador is Briana, and you may remember her from my July 9, 2004 update where I posted a Pflugerville Pflag newspaper article on one of the coolest things to ever happen to me…



At first, I thought Briana was sent here to collect back taxes. But as it turned out Briana has become so whiplash-fast efficient at her job that she needed to undertake some new software training. As strange luck (or perhaps fate) would have it, the only place in the entire world for her to train on software needed for her job back in Texas is…you guessed it…Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada! If anyone back at Briana’s work is reading this, I tried hard to school her in the unofficial etiquette of travel for training or conferences (ie. Check in, get your free stuff, then ditch and go shopping), but she wouldn’t bite. So I had to wait until the evening to meet her. This is me and Briana finally meeting, taken moments before she crippled over from my massive 6 year old weight.



Briana, it was great to meet you at long last! I’ll bring my makeup with me when I come to Pflugerville. Oh, and that ball/Frisbee thing? My stinky brother slept with it that night!

*****

A Father’s Day Message from The Top Banana (ya RIGHT! I’m 4th on the family seniority list, and I’m only that high because our cat died):

This weekend I was in Brandon for a graduation barbque for my niece (Graduating already? YIKES is my sister old! Ok, maybe me too a little). You remember grad, don’t you? The future was this clean slate, just waiting to be chiseled. When I graduated, I didn’t have clue #1 what to write on my slate…should I turn pro and sign with the first NFL team looking for a fat, short, painfully slow, not-too-many-boxes-in-the-attic nose tackle, or do I hold out for that sweet minimum wage job? These are tough decisions when you’re 18, but ultimately I chose the smothering student loan route. And let me tell you brother, this man had plans! Gonna be rich. Gonna have that trophy chick hanging off my arms. Gonna get me some respect!

That was 1986, and yesterday, I found myself doing a little a little Father’s Day reflection, wondering what my 20 year report card might look like.

Rich? Monetarily, no (and believe me, my wife could confirm that for you). But would I trade what I have, would I hock my 8 year old and 6 year old walking tension headaches, or would I trade anything about them? Never. Not for money in the world. In fact, I would trade everything I have and even my last breath FOR them. I’m pretty sure even Donald Trump would trade it all in for that. Rich – check.

Trophy chick hanging off my arm? As fate would have it, on this Father’s Day that trophy chick is my daughter, and more times than not she’s hanging around my neck. Not hugging me, it’s more like a submission hold and she’s trying to get me to tap out. None the less, trophy chick – check.

Gonna get me some respect? Who am I kidding, I’m the Rodney Dangerfield of my family, I couldn’t get my kids to put on their pajamas if I taped cookies and twenty dollar bills to the sleeves! Yes, in this hive, I’m the worker bee, not the queen bee. But you should see the custom Father's Day clothes hanger that Julianna made for me, and the picture frame that Nicholas made for me. It’s enough to choke a big guy up. I’ll take that kind of respect any day – check.

This is definitely not the path that I had planned back when I was chiseling my own slate, and still no call from the Denver Broncos, but all in all, I think I still arrived at the destination. I’m not saying that there’s going to be a rush on The Banana Family Rockwell Collector Dish, but I’d take this report card home to my dad.

Later,
Dad


P.S. – An interesting subject came up when Briana was down visiting with us. Did you know that maternity leave in the United States is 6 weeks? But did you also know that maternity leave in Canada is ONE YEAR? Hey America, send us your women, we’ll take care of them!

Monday, June 12, 2006 - Faith in Faithless Times

It’s been a pretty crummy day at work today. I came back to the office after a few different stops, and it’s like every mistake I could have made was impatiently waiting to take a swipe at me. But I try to live by the motto: “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade...if that doesn’t cut it, make lemon margaritas…have a Mike’s Hard Lemonade…a piece of lemon marange pie…squeeze that lemon over a roasted salmon…but never, NEVER settle for just lemons!” Life is just too sweet to suck on sour for too long. So when work got me down today, my lemony medicine, as always, was to open up this page and read what people were up to.

Was I ever saddened by what was waiting for me.

The Caring Bridge community knows him as Amazing Jacob. But whenever anyone asked me about him, I would refer to him as Jacob Duckworth: Miracle-In-Progress. If you live strictly by the rules of medicine and anatomy, Jacob had no business even being alive this past year. Fortunately, Jacob and The Duckworths didn’t live by those rules. Man, this kid young boy was the Houdini of cancer, leaving a trail of inspiration with every miraculous escape.

But while this boy turned from Jacob to Amazing Jacob in front of our collective eyes, what turned this family’s circumstances from a story into a legacy was faith. Specifically, The Duckworth Family’s faith in faithless times. Their unwavering faith was, and continues to be, perhaps the single greatest point of inspiration in the ten year, tens of thousands of families, history of Caring Bridge. If you think I’m lying or exaggerating, go tell that to the two million people who shown up on Jacob’s e-door step to lend a prayer and wish him well in just this past year.

I don’t generally talk about my personal faith on this page very much, I’m pretty private that way. But I can tell you that I have been tested, and there have been times that I have passed and times that I have failed. I am truly humbled by this family’s strength. It doesn’t matter if you are Christian, Jewish, Muslim or Hindu, if you believe in and gain strength from a higher power, The Duckworth Family should be your high water mark. I can just imagine the fine young man that Jacob was on his way to becoming.

With his passing last night, I believe that Jacob Duckworth also passes from Miracle-In-Progress to Miracle-Accomplished. Not just a job well done, but a job divine. To the Mighty Ducks of Florida, we are so very sorry for your loss. If there is anything in this world as big as your pain, it is undoubtedly your pride.

Love and sorrow,
Terry, Mary, Nicholas and Julianna



Monday, June 12, 2006 - The Life, Times and Follicles of a cancer Survivor


My plan as I sat down here tonight was to Photoshop a few birthday pics to share my multi-party 48 hour birthday party and spa weekend with you, but I was stopped dead in my tracks by the video clips and pictures from my birthdays throughout my sick blood fight. Here, see what I mean for yourself…

This video clip is me as I was just about to turn 4 years old, my hair was falling out in clumps at the time. This was taken just before I came down with something and ended up having my party in isolation up at the CK5 Spa.

Half a year later, I took these three clips (clip 1, clip 2, clip 3) as I was putting the final touches on my magic act. Radiation and some extra-nasty chemo had taken the last of my hair by this time.

This picture is me as a newly crowned 5 year old, just after I blew out the candles from my cake one year ago.


And finally, this picture was taken after I blew out the candles just last evening.


If as you are reading this, you have a loved one going through a cancer fight of their own, what I really want you to take with you from this is how much of your life and your vibrancy you can steal back from cancer in just one measily little year. My hair isn’t growing back anymore, it IS back! And it’s beautiful. It’s just as beautiful as it was before I got sick. And in retrospect, it’s also just as beautiful as the peach fuzz on my Grandpa-esque post-radiation head. Time, perspective, and hair, they’re all relative, and their significance depends on what side of the calendar you are on.

I guess time has a way of pushing some of those memories to the back corners of the ol’ melon…and pictures and videos have a way of bringing it all back. Emotions and all. I’ll sit back down here in a day or two and share my birthday party stories and pics with you. But tonight, I’m going to choke back this lump in my throat, and reflect on a long, long fight well fought.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Monday, June 5, 2006, 11:59 p.m. - Love From 2006

Hey Julianna my sweetie, it’s your ol’ dad here! I don’t know how old you are as you read this, but I thought you would find it cute to know that your last words as a 5 year old girl were “Good night pooh pooh head” as I tucked you into bed tonight. You also gave me a kiss, honked my nose and told me that my breath stinks (thanks for that). Earlier tonight and despite the fact that you were home sick from school today, you somehow ended up outside and sprayed me with a Super Soaker when I was defenceless, trying to barbque you and Nicholas pork chops (thanks for that, too). For your birthday party this weekend, you will be having a manicure, peticure and makeup party, and presumably there will be much more skilled and artistic nail technicians than me!

Julianna, as much as I can’t wait to see the woman you have become, part of me wishes that you could stay five forever. I couldn’t love you more.

Love from 2006,
Dad


Sunday, June 4, 2006 - Obliviously Yours


Tonight, I write as a five year old for the very last time.

When you’re a survivor, milestones make you sentimental, they make you reflect. I was but three years old when I was first diagnosed with cancer. My life flipped upside down before it barely got started. A fourth birthday wasn’t something that I could take for granted, and after a relapse, a fifth birthday seemed too distant to even think about. One day at a time, one obstacle at a time, that’s about all I could face without being overwhelmed. Well how blessed is my life that I’m still standing, a mere one thousand and five of those days and one thousand and five obstacles later, poised to take my first bite of cake as a six year old? Life surely is sweeter than Lik-a-stiks.

So what do I want for my Big-6th birthday? I want Barbies. I want Pollies. But most of all, I want obliviousness. I want to plan for my education, oblivious to event-free survival rates. I want to daydream of bankrupting my parents on my dream wedding, oblivious relapses and secondary cancers. I want to fantasize about playing with the children I have yet to birth, oblivious to radiation and chemotherapy side effects.

I just want to dream like anyone else. Oblivious.

Tuesday morning I will wake up a six year old girl. Grateful to God, and to a team of people who, by the grace of God, chose their life’s work to help sick kids like myself make it to birthdays that in any other generation in the entire history of humanity, would have had no business celebrating.

I am so grateful that I am no longer oblivious to that sacrifice. To everyone at clinic and at The Spa, to my family and friends who takes such good care of me, to everyone who prays for me and keeps me in their thoughts, Thank You for this birthday. And Thank You for the moments yet to come.


Luv and gratitude,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - My dad is trying to set up a router to network computers here at home. For awhile, he couldn't upload tunes for this page, but he got that problem licked...only to screw up his email! So if you are trying to get in touch with me this weekend, just know that there is a good chance nobody saw the email.

Friday May 25, 2006 - In The News

Breaking Headlines from Banana Action News!


Sore, Aching Woman Gives Birth to Adorable 2 Year Old…
Click here for details.


Prayers Being Heard, Thousands Surround Family With Support…
Click here for details.


Pink Wall of Famer Writes More Than Just Guestbook Entries, In Line For Geek Pulitzer…
Click here for details.


Girl, 5, Adjusting To Life With Hole In Her Head…


In related news…
Kid to Tooth Fairy: “What Limb Do I Need To Cut Off To Score More Than Three Lousy Bucks?”


Mother’s Day Miracle Diet: Start Your Day Off With Bacon and Bear Paws



Family of Four Survives Shark Attack: “Nicholas, you smell even stinkier!”



Star Struck Canadians Invade Kennedy Space Center Air Space: “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for gift shop revenue.”



Elated, Sugar-Happy Children Say Goodbye to Disney: “Wow, these are almost as big as our rats!”



Manitoba Media Officially Run Out Of Interesting Things To Talk About: Banana Family To Be On TV…
Watch Breakfast Television, CityTV Channel 8, Monday, May 29.



This has been Banana Action News reporting.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006 - An Hour of My Life I'll Never Get Back

Hey everyone, Julianna's dad here.

As some of you have noticed, Julianna’s guestbook was hit with a couple of messages from internet trolls on the weekend. I’ve been around this Caring Bridge community long enough to see my share of some truly appauling displays of poor taste, some directed at others, some directed at me. The fact that I am still here, still doing my thing, should be proof enough that the best chance an anonymous trash talker has of getting a rise out of me is to mail me Viagra.

But this time is different for two reasons. First, you p*ssed off my wife. That’s my job. Second, you caused a good family during the heat of the most intensely difficult time of their lives the stress of feeling that they did something wrong, like they somehow provoked you. They need support like never before, and you give them stress?

So Anonymous, please indulge me with a history lesson on CSI: Caring Bridge. You’re not the first classless person to do something like this, internet trolls have been around since before I came to be here. About half a year into our family cancer fight, we were befriended online by a young woman named Kelly. Kelly turned out to be selling a lie, and even went so far as to fake her own online death (we weren’t the only ones she hurt and betrayed, some of you out there might even remember who I’m talking about). Needless to say, I was some ticked. I tracked her down and literally had the phone in my hand ready to let her know what I thought, when I came to a realization: who cares? With all the challenges I had to face in my life, why would I allow myself hand over even an ounce of my emotional energy to someone like that? Screw that, man, live and let live, and may peace be with you.

BUT, I wasn’t stupid! Trust, but verify. I put myself on passive but permanent troll watch, along with a small network of us who watch out around Caring Bridge in general. I hooked up with a few great CB authors who, after also being burned, took it upon themselves to help others track down fake people who have bothered people in their darkest times.

The point that I want you to walk away with, Anonymous, is that there really is no such thing as anonymous in the internet these days. Thanks to Kelly, your IP address in a log file and it’s just an FTP away. I don’t have a problem with you thinking that I’m a shmuck. That’s cool, you wouldn’t be the first. But come on man, just live and let live…don’t make me download that file.

*****

To everyone who took the time to defend me or to send your reassurances to me, thank you, I sure do appreciate where your hearts are at! Make sure you carry that kindness over to Madelaine's page and show her your support.


Julianna’s dad



Saturday, May 20, 2006 - Heart And Soul


Something is wrong inside me.

I first started noticing it a few months after I finished radiation. The hardest parts of challenges bigger than I ever could have imagined facing were behind me, and the very thought that I might just have to face them again some day was numbing. Numbing to my soul.

Ay, there’s the rub.

You have to know me personally, I’m just not “programmed” to be sad or scared. I can deal with uncertainty, but fear doesn’t fit me. Well, as fate would teach me, there’s not a helluvalot you can do to escape the terror of a cancer diagnosis and a relapse when it stares you in the face. Some people escape it with booze or drugs, others with food or even abandonment. For me, and I am only now realizing this in retrospect, I think the only way I could get out of bed in the morning and find ways to face the day with a smile and a laugh (the way I actually was “programmed”) was to numb out that part of my soul that lets me empathize with so many of the things that would have been big deals in the B.C. (before cancer) era. Intellectually, I still understand, I still go through the motions of empathy because deep down I know it’s right, my mind must have some sort of muscle memory that instructs me how to behave. But I just don’t feel it like I once did. I’m hardened. I’m hollow. There’s a difference between strong and tough: I endeavor to be strong, but I dread being tough.

The kick in the ass in all of this is that knowing I have become this callous, well, it’s is enough to make me cry! It’s like a piece of me died and I’m quietly and privately mourning the loss. I pray that I never have to go back to 2004 and 2005, and that time takes away some of this numbness and gives me back that piece of me that cancer stole.

So why am I burdening you all with this baggage? Two reasons. First, it’s real. I don’t do anyone a service, including myself, by sugar coating a truth. To deny that there are bumps in the road would be a lie. But don’t those bumps make you appreciate your suspension? Or the smooth road?? If you’ve never cried, I don’t think you’ve ever really laughed.

Secondly, and much, much more importantly, I grieve for another family tonight, because I know as I type this, they are having that piece of their souls stolen from them, too. Their little sweetie Madelaine, having just made it to what was supposed to be the treatment finish line, is starting all over with the terrible news of a relapse in her central nervous system. They also have to endure that torturous, inhumane wait for bone marrow results. I have no doubt that, somehow, Madelaine’s family will find a way to pull themselves up and do what has to be done. But no matter what the future brings for them, there will be a price to pay and they are paying it right now, right this second. I know these good people personally, and I know they would literally give their lives if that was the going rate for buying their daughter a future. But these are truly soul-stealing moments, don’t let them go through it alone.


Luv and sorrow,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – Much more Disney to come. But not tonight.




Wednesday, May 17, 2006


Hmm, a week and a half between updates? Well, I didn’t fall off the face of the planet, I assure you. But it sure felt like my typist/dad did. He was home with me the Monday before last when the phone rang. And like that, less than 24 hours later he had started a new job! Completely out of the blue. Then last weekend, there was a block-wide garage sale, and where’s there’s junk there’s a Josephson. And finally early this past Monday morning, mom hopped on one of those planes so small that they have more propellers than passengers and skipped town on work (from Orlando to Norway House in two weeks, now that’s a cross-continental, cross-cultural May). Let me tell you, with mom gone we are playing a week-long game of Fear Factor - The Home Edition with the cooking around here!

Needless to say, time around here is tighter than dad’s belt. So where was I, anyways? Oh ya, The Best Time Of My Life – Part II:




“Look mom, there’s Shamu. Look mom, Shamu is swimming over here! HOLY SCHNIKIES, MOMMY, WE’RE DRENCHED IN WHALE WATER!!!” This…was…AWESOME, Seaworld absolutely rocked. I could feed those seals all day long, and at $4 for 4 seconds of seal food, it’s one of the better values in central Florida, too. We learned something about my stinky brother at Seaworld, too…the dude is a roller coaster maniac! He did the 149 foot high, gravity-defying roller coaster called The Kracken. Twice. The next day, he conquered The Hulk at Universal’s Island of Adventures, the world’s fastest accelerating rollercoaster, which incidentally was painted entirely green so as to camouflage all the vomit.




Wow Florida, you sure grow ‘em tall down there! This is me at Universal Studios posing with a couple of guys loitering outside of The Mummy ride while mom and my stinky brother, you guessed it, rode another roller coaster. I have to say, we got total rock star treatment at Universal, I cannot say enough good things about the people who work there! We didn’t wait anywhere, we were either escorted to the front of lines, or an attendant would escort us through some secret backdoor and fast track us to the rides and shows. Heck, we were standing in front of Twister (the real, live indoor tornado) and I was balking at going in, and an attendant overheard us and took it upon himself to take us up to the control booth for a private tour and let us watch the tornado from his seat! Another attendant at Earthquake got us onto the ride so quick and early that we had the whole subway to ourselves long enough for another attendant to do a little photo shoot with us! How cool is all that? How awesome is Universal?!

Still more Florida stories and pictures to come, but I have a special announcement to make. The One Millionth friend to visit my site is…

Cherry the Cutie from New Mexico! I can still remember the first time I read the email two years ago, “You have to go meet this adorable little girl named Cherry.” Cherry and I were born within two weeks of each other, we both battled the same kind of sick blood, and we both kicked it square in the nads. Heck, the only difference between me and Cherry is two thousand miles, and I can’t think of a better person to call my one millionth friend.

I leave you tonight asking for a favor. A friend of bananahead Laura Lynn recently gave birth to twin boys Asher and Jacob last week. The boys were born at 24 weeks gestation and weigh one and a half pound each. As you can imagine, this family has a long, testing and uncertain path to travel. Any support that you could give to her mom Heather would be so appreciated.


Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. - Sing with me if you know the words…

“I see France, I see your underwear”

Now repeat 99 times, it just gets funnier and funnier, trust me!

Saturday, May 6, 2006 - Observations From The Sunshine State

Not long after my stinky brother was born, he was left with my bewildered dad while my exhausted mom got her first break from round-the-clock baby care. Naturally, he started to cry (Nicholas, that is). As far as child-rearing goes, every mom out there knows that there are precious few things more useless then a brand new, first-time dad. Not for lack of love, but for lack of knowing-what-the-heck-to-do. Especially during (fill in your sport of choice here) playoffs. So after about a half hour of crying, which is roughly 8 hours in “newborn father time”, my dad put on a Disney CD, cuddled baby Nicholas in his arms and rocked him to this song. “The Circle Of Life”. Well, sonofagun if it didn’t work! My stinky brother cried less and less…and my wussy dad cried more and more. It was the baptism of his fatherhood, the first time he really knew that fate didn’t screw up and give this beautiful child to him by some administrative mistake.

I noticed after getting pulled out from the audience to shake my thang at The Lion King Show at Disney Animal Kingdom (which totally rocked!) is that this song still chokes the big guy up. And in a way, this wish trip brought me full circle in this protracted sick blood battle for my life. Nine hundred and seventy-five days ago we prayed for life, and this month we celebrated it.

Funny thing, though, I noticed a whole lot of interesting tidbits down south. For instance…

1. Y’all talk funny! It’s not me, it’s the millions of you. All of you. Ya, don’t try to tell me different, eh. Then again, I didn’t see what the big deal was with how everyone talked in “Fargo”.

2. Ya, you may talk funny eh, but you are definitely a friendly lot. Even your animals. All the birds do around here is some stealth pooping when nobody’s looking.



3. Our trip started out just as you probably expected from our family…we missed our plane! Literally, it was a scene from that A&E show “Airline”, but that’s a story we’ll be taking up with some not-so-lucky customer service rep.

4. Gatorworld: four hours, and not one mullet. It might be the free haircut service…



5. For the last few days, we moved to a hotel. When you check in at 11 pm after doing Disney MGM, Epcot and that Midevil eat with your hands thing, room 2210 looks an awful lot like room 2250…just ask the family we scared the bejeezies out of trying to work the lock to their room.

6. American exterminators are sitting on a gold mine! Florida is literally overridden with mice, gators, wild dogs, penguins, sea sponges, dinosaurs, lions, very large children not accompanied by adults, donkeys, tiggers, pink power rangers, pink pigs, rabbits, and an assortment of various six feet tall furry and foamy creatures. They literally roam the streets, trying to sign your autograph books. And some of them even sneak into your room and tuck you into bed! Consider exhibit A…



7. The water is beautiful! It’s been waaay too long, two years 5 months to be exact, since I could jump into a pool or lie back in a bath. With my tubies finally out, I could not have picked a better spot to re-acquaint myself with my absolute favourite thing to do…splash! Please let me share with you the pictures of my first swim since I was 3 years old.



8. Caring Bridge surfers, perhaps you already read the headlines over at Kendrie’s page…"Eleven Month Pregnant Woman and Her Charming Family Humour Shellshocked Tourists"



Pictured on the right are me, my parents and my stinky brother, and on the left are Kristie and Blaine Escoe, along with Gene, Paul and Ace from "Kiss". Despite challenging circumstances and timing like you wouldn’t believe, Team Escoe was kind enough to time their holiday and make the long drive from central Georgia to meet us. Thank you so much for that, guys, we truly appreciate it, we would not have been able to meet you if you didn’t go above and beyond the call for us! Believe it or not, that was actually the first time we met another Caring Bridge family outside of our clinic, too.



9. I can tell you all first hand, Georgia’s favourite peach Kendrie has all the energy, charm and intrigue you think she has! Awesome family, awesome kids, and Brayden has frog catching skills up there with the Crocodile Hunter.

I was fortunate to meet another sick blood fighter and Caring Bridge chronicler, Raphael...and I'm embarrassed to say that I can't find his page again to share this picture with his family! Raphael, buddy, if you're out there, help me find you again!



10. It’s a small world after all...it's a small, small world!
So there we were, eating our “too cheap to buy lunch at the park” peanut butter sandwiches smack dab in the middle of a very busy Magic Kingdom Frontierland when a woman approaches us and says “pardon me, but are you the Banana family?” Can you believe that?



The woman was Nikki from Calgary, and it turns out that she is the sister of Hug A Bug co-founder Tracey…the same Hug A Bug that you hear me gush about all the time! Oh, and can you keep a secret? I was asked to be the flower girl at my cousin’s wedding this September. The wedding is in Calgary, so keep that to yourself so we can surprise Tracey…shhh!

Seriously, I’m just scratching the surface on this amazing trip! Much, much more to show and tell. To be continued in a couple of days…

Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. – This is cool. By this time next week, I may have had my one millionth visitor! All I can say is WOW, I am humbled and I am so grateful for the support over these past two and a half years! Friend #1,000,000, I sure would like to know who you are. Please leave me a message in my guestbook or drop me an email, I would appreciate it :-)

Wednesday, May 3, 2006 - Nibble Nibble

Ok, ok, I'm not trying to torture anyone, honest! We flew through 2000 miles, 50 degrees of temperature change, and finally got back home late Monday (we extended our trip by three days) where I promptly ate some pickles from South Carolina, huddled up under a brand new quilt from Ontario and curled up with my Mickey Mouse doll from Florida. Truly an international bedtime, and a perfect ending to the trip of a lifetime. I may go to Kissimmeeonthecheek, Florida again someday, but it could never possibly be as awesome as this! The Reader's Digest version: saw lots of things, spent lots of money, got splashed by a whale, spent lots of money, rode lots of rides, ate lots food, spent lots of money, met lots of great people and six foot furry creatures who don't talk, and spent lots and lots of money. It was everything we had hoped for, and much, much more.

Anyways, I'm still don't completely have my bearings yet, I'm just trying to find the time and sift through the gazillion pictures that we took. I'll be updating bigtime real soon, I promise!

Luv,
Julianna The Exhausted Banana

P.S. - Someone, anyone, help me out...did anyone get whacked on The Sopranos during the past two weeks??



Monday, April 24, 2006 - What Were My Parents Thinking?

In retrospect, maybe Space Mountain was a teensie weensie bit too much adrenaline for this five year old girl (you have to admit though, for a girl, I got balls!), but at least I can look you square in the eye and say without blinking, "I DID Magic Kingdom!" Let's see, I've been here for 4 days now, what's the damage so far...

Light parade and fireworks literally on the castle lawn at Magic Kingdom - check.

Splashed by a whale and spit on by a walrus at Sea World - check.

Picture taken holding a live, nasty aligator at Gatorland - check.

But as amazing as all of this has been, the most magical place on Earth (sorry for the copyright infringement, Walt) has to be this humongous jacuzi tubbed, separate-sinks-for-me-and-my-stinky-brother, 150 square feet private ensuite off the kids' bedroom! Mickey, you rock, but I can't think what will ever rock more than not having to light a match for a week.

So much to share, so many pictures to post...man, I'm going to need more bandwidth when I get home! If I ever decided to leave, that is.

Luv,
Julianna "Wore My First Bikini On Saturday" Banana

P.S. - And you won't believe the people that I have met, either!



Sunday, April 16, 2006 - Good Will Hunting, Eh


Ok, maybe I went a wee bit overboard shakin’ my thang when I got my tubies out, but in my defense, I’ve been flying high on a week-long ice cream trip. I even lived large and did a hot fudge sundae, what a piece of sweet Heaven that was. But the bottom line is my tubies are outa here! Gone. Done like Bucky. Like my whole sick blood adventure, my central line removal couldn’t go smooth. I was supposed to get it taken out with local freezing in clinic last Monday, but that slippery little snake wouldn’t come out. And if I do say so…ouch, did that hurt!! Plan B was to have surgery at the Children’s Hospital on Thursday. That was some long day, but the deed is done, and today I stand before you completely tubeless. Did you know that putting in and taking out a central line takes two nasty incisions? And they’re pretty gross, believe me. Let’s just hope these things heals enough before my trip to…um…well, I almost got ahead of myself. Please allow me to digress for a moment.

“A Moment In History”, with Julianna Banana:

The year was 1812, the last time good neighbours Canada and the United States stood on opposite sides of the rifle. What happened? Well, let's just say don’t make us come down there again!

Now, the Canadian government is very sensitive to the anxiety that American citizens must be subjected to every day, knowing that they are living next door to a military super-power (we don’t consider ourselves “north”, we consider ourselves “on top”). Heck, at any moment, we could fly our 50-year old helicopters over you and rain parts! But in an effort to reduce international tension, Canadian Prime Minister Red Green has asked The Rainbow Society to send me south on a Good Will Mission, to meet with our southern neighbors face-to-face. Starting with your princesses, rodents and dolphins. We have already been issued our itinerary, passports and tourist-sized extra small Speedos, and will have our first peace talks with Ambassador Goofy at Disneyworld this upcoming Friday. Since Canada’s whitest exports are polar bears, our NBA basketball players and dad’s legs, there may be some tanning involved. But Floridians please don’t be too alarmed, a good Canadian prairie tan starts half way down the biceps. Look out Mickey, the Canadian Clampetts are a-comin’ to Florida…yeeehawwh!! That’s near Beverley Hills, right?

As any Canadian knows, twenty cents out of every tax dollars goes to good work and worthy deeds, and the other 80 cents is spend telling us about it (thank God for those first twenty cents, or our scientists would have never figured how to get the other 1lcohol in our beer). So in keeping with prudent Canadian spending, we will be spreading the word on our mission of peace and tanning at the Children’s Hopsital Radiothon this Wednesday, April 19. Mommy and me will be on Hot 103 FM and QX 104 FM between 4 pm and 5 pm, so be sure to tune in and give ‘til it hurts! I’m not too sure why mom will be doing the interviews with me, dad has the better face for radio.

With all this going on, these sure are crazy times. I’m not sure how often I will be able to update here over the next couple of weeks, but I will try. Even from Florida. Now I best be off to bed, me and my stinky brother left a nice juicy carrot out for the Easter Bunny and I have to get up two hours before my parents can function enough to find their way to the potty and see if she ate it!

From our home to yours, have a happy, hoppy Easter! May your day be filled with kin, kindness and Kinder Eggs.

Luv,
Julianna Banana, sans tubes


P.S. – While Winnipeggers are giving ‘til it hurts to the Children’s Hospital Foundation Radiothon, any of you reading this from the Cloverdale area in Surrey, BC better dig deep if a young 4 year old girl named Sarah comes to your doorstep (with her mom Kathleen, of course) canvassing for the Canadian Cancer Society because Sarah is just the sweetest! My dad, known in these parts as Winnipeg’s worst canvasser, will be hitting the streets Monday night, so please go easy on him.

P.S.S. – Wow, this Sopranos Whack Pool has already gone on longer than I thought! Stay tuned, I know I am.

Monday, April 10, 2006 - Ahh, The Sweet Taste of Victory

The next day…


The sun shines again! I’ve noticed something about the sun. No matter how dark your day may be, it just keeps shining. That made me mad when the sun rose the morning after my grandma passed away, like how DARE the sun have the nerve to shine like it’s any normal day. But if grandma was here with me, I’m pretty sure she’d kick my butt for even thinking that! The sun is the universe’s best role model…no matter what, get up and shine.


My first ice cream after dinner in over two years and seven months. The Place: Dairy Queen. The Poison: Small Chocolate Sundae. Ahhh, whoda thunk the sweet taste of victory is chocolate flavored?


The Verdict: “Daddy, next time can I have a strawberry sundae instead?”


The Hero: Auntie Tammy, who within seconds gets a delicious, well-earned strawberry sundae in my hands! Check that, the sweet taste of victory is strawberry flavored.


Even later that night…

After 945 days of hard fought cancer kicking, a girl gotsta have her “Whaley”. Dressed in pink, of course, just like me!


I may be two and a half years older, half a foot taller and 15 pounds heavier, but some things didn’t change: a good buddy, my favorite blankie, a little TV, and I’m ready for bed. Cancer free. Just like September 3, 2003.

Well, my family, we made it! We’re older, grayer and fatter…but we’re older, grayer and fatter together! Thank you all so much for the superkind and uplifting words of congratulations this past week! Usually, I would shower you with about three paragraphs of gratitude right about now, but this weekend I am without the words. Just know that you are my family too.


May we never have to walk through those air lock double doors behind us again.


Luv,
Julianna Banana, cancer Survivor,
her stinky brother,
her grateful mom,
and her worn out dad



Thursday, April 6, 2006 - Better Days


A Reading From The Book Of Goo Goo Dolls, 3:16


And you ask me what I want this year,
And I try to make this kind and clear,
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days.

Because I don't need boxes wrapped in strings,
And desire and love and empty things,
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days.

And it's someplace simple where we could live,
And something only you can give,
And that’s faith and trust and peace while we're alive.

And the one poor child that saved this world,
And there's 10 million more who probably could,
If we all just stopped and said a prayer for them.

I wish everyone was loved tonight,
And somehow stop this endless fight,
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days.

So take these words,
And sing out loud,
Because everyone is forgiven now,
Because tonight's the night the world begins again.


Indeed it does. 8:30 pm to be exact.

When I first heard the word cancer, I asked “God, why me?” I never got an answer. Today as I prepare to take my last pill and toss my chemo safety blanket onto the floor hopefully forever, I ask, “God, why not me?” Why any of the countless beautiful souls that I had the blessed privilege of knowing, but lost their lives fighting just as hard against the same demon as me? I’m not an ounce more worthy than any of them, God, so why not me? And like my question two and a half long years ago, I don’t think I will get an answer. For the record, my last pill will be mercaptipurine, and it will be one bitter sweet pill. I’m elated, I’m relieved, I’m exhausted, I’m grateful, I’m confused.

But am I worthy? I have been given this divine gift of time, and the promise of better days. My pledge to you and to God is to strive to be worthy of this gift. Two and a half years ago, I had a life. Today, I have a life with purpose. I so wish I could reach through this monitor and hug each and every one of you, as I did not walk this far on my own, we walked together, hand-in-hand. And when I fell, which was often, you carried me on your collective shoulders. God, thank you for delivering me to the end of my treatment. Friends, thank you for delivering me to my purpose.


Luv,
Julianna Banana, Grateful cancer Survivor

P.S. - I will post pictures of tonight's last pill soon!



Wednesday, April 5, 2006 - Finally, I Can Count Down


Life got a little stinkier at my house on the weekend.

Without a doubt, April Fools Day is the second biggest “holiday” event in the life and times of my stinky brother. And the stench of the stunts gets more elaborate with every passing year…God help us when he becomes a teenager! Nicholas even went so far as to make a check list of all the pranks he planned, including a column showing whether they worked or not (he’s going to make some assembly line quality control engineer very happy some day). There was your basic falling-shoe-from-the-door prank…on *every* door in the house. And one time when he suspected that dad was looking up to avoid getting hit, he took a running start and knocked dad into the door! He put shaving cream in my shoe, and when I found it (the hard way), he told me it was whipping cream and dared me to eat it. He put packing tape across the doors whenever someone was so foolish as to go to the potty. Oh, and who can forget all the surprise “pantsing”! Seriously, how do I forget them? Some of those nasty images are burned into my retinas and I can’t scratch them out with my nails no matter how hard I try!

But the cherry on Nicholas’ stinky sundae of poop-disturbing went something like this:

[My Stinky Brother] - Dad, did you brush your teeth?

(no response)

[My Stinky Brother] - Dad, I think you need to brush your teeth.

(no response)

[My Stinky Brother] - Daaad, you have morning breath. Bad. You really need to brush your teeth!

[The Plaintiff] - Alright, alright, I’ll go brush my teeth already...GAWD, can’t a man eat breakfast around here?!

As expected, my extremely suspicious dad took every precaution you can think of, and when the coast was clear, he started brushing. About 30 seconds in (yes, you read that right, a GUY who brushes his teeth more than 30 seconds! That’s the price you pay for being married to a dental hygienist), Nicholas pops his head into the bathroom and nonchalantly states, “oh by the way, I stuck your toothbrush down the toilet. See ya!”

And with that, the chase was on. Two floors later when dad finally caught up with the stinkster and had him pinned down ready to lay the beating on him, Nicholas says “April Foooools!!”

(Note from Dad: Is it wrong to day dream of the vasectomy I never had?)

So as my stinky brother’s blameless co-conspirator to most of these stunts, I couldn’t stand by and let him take all the glory / grouding. Somehow, I figured out that if you take dish soap and rub it on the banister, it gets crazy-slippery. Well if one slippery, soapy banister is funny, then doesn’t it stand to reason that covering every piece of exposed wood in the house would be even that much funnier?! Ya, you’d THINK so, but try explaining that one to my killjoy dad! Oh, incidentally, did I ever mention that we have hardwood floors?

Perhaps you noticed the new picture at the top of this page, that is me sporting this year’s Halloween costume. Apparently I am going as a bag lady, and it only cost my parents Cheapo McEmptywallet and Penny Pincher a good $0.08 at Superstore! I’d show you the full body pictures of me and my stinky brother as Plastic Man, but he had technical difficulties with “unit adjustment”. If we’re really good, mom and dad are going to get us tinfoil hats.

So tomorrow is the last day. Sigh! It’s hard to believe that I’m not refilling that near-empty pill bottle, I bet you I stared at it for thirty seconds last night. I’ll tell ya, this sick blood fight sure won’t go away without a fight, it turns out I have an ear infection. But you tell me if this is fate…the antibiotics that I was prescribed, the LAST prescription that I will get while on treatment, is banana flavoured :-)


Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. – Hey Auntie Shawna, I’m liking my new man-servant! I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about grandchildren any time soon, I’m taking care of that.



April 1, 2006 – Julianna 1, cancer 0


Unless you knew our family before 2003, my wife and I have someone that we have been desperately wanting to introduce you to for the past two and a half years…



With pride and with exhausted hearts, we would like you to meet our daughter, Julianna Banana – cancer SURVIVOR!

Julianna underwent a bone marrow aspiration and spinal tap yesterday afternoon, and her wonderful oncologist called us as soon as she pulled herself away from the microscope to tell us the good news: her marrow and spinal fluid look perfect! Of course there are further tests to perform on her marrow and CNS fluid that will take some time and she still has to ride out one more week of pills, but she has been medically declared in remission and we are now working out the details to have her central line removed.

Since a chance trip to the emergency room on September 4, 2003, my family has been to hell and back. But we ARE back, and as for hell, well it can go to hell! Intellectually, we know that Julianna’s long term prognosis is tenuous, but as we stare at the blank pages of a beautiful life yet to be written, we just can’t help but believe that our Julianna’s book will be full. And what an amazing read it will be!


With love, laughs, tears, sleep depravation, and gratitude greater than you will ever know,

Terry, Mary, Nicholas and Julianna Banana – cancer Survivor

Saturday, April 1, 2006 - Julianna 1, cancer 0

Unless you knew our family before 2003, my wife and I have someone that we have been desperately wanting to introduce you to for the past two and a half years…



With pride and with exhausted hearts, we would like you to meet our daughter, Julianna Banana – cancer SURVIVOR!

Julianna underwent a bone marrow aspiration and spinal tap yesterday afternoon, and her wonderful oncologist called us as soon as she pulled herself away from the microscope to tell us the good news: her marrow and spinal fluid look perfect! Of course there are further tests to perform on her marrow and CNS fluid that will take some time and she still has to ride out one more week of pills, but she has been medically declared in remission and we are now working out the details to have her central line removed.

Since a chance trip to the emergency room on September 4, 2003, my family has been to hell and back. But we ARE back, and as for hell, well it can go to hell! Intellectually, we know that Julianna’s long term prognosis is tenuous, but as we stare at the blank pages of a beautiful life yet to be written, we just can’t help but believe that our Julianna’s book will be full. And what an amazing read it will be!


With love, laughs, tears, sleep depravation, and gratitude greater than you will ever know,

Terry, Mary, Nicholas and Julianna Banana – cancer Survivor




Thursday, March 30, 2006 - Time, Where Did You Go?


Tomorrow I go to clinic for perhaps the most important clinic trip in my life. Just like when all this started, people are going to poke my back like a pin cushion, taking samples from my spine and from my bone marrow. When those test results come back next week, we will know which way to start paving the path for my future. Will I be able to take these tubies out of my chest so that I can lay down in the tub for the first time in two years? Will I be able to go out and have an ice cream cone after 6pm? Will I be able to have friends over to play without having to cross-reference neutrophils with monocytes? I guess time will tell, but man, this is going to be one looong week.

It’s a funny thing, this thing we call ‘time’. It’s relative, it’s fickle, and it is experienced differently by different people. Sure, there are some universal truths about time, like no matter where you work or what you do, your mechanic makes more per hour than you. But as I near what I hope will be the end of my pokes and pills, it’s striking to me how differently I look at, say, a day today compared to a day three years ago. A day means so much more to me now, it’s not something that I can carelessly toss out in the blue bin. Time is the ultimate natural resource. It can’t be recycled, it can’t be reclaimed, it is just…precious. A gift to use, or an opportunity you lose.

In 2003, I might have been able to stand before you ranking as one of the most inefficient user of time, ever. But today, in 2006, I know am! All that new knowledge and wisdom, it sure as sugar didn’t make me any more productive. I napped in 2003, and I still nap in 2006. BUT, in 2006, I appreciate that snooze, for today, I snooze with PURPOSE! And let me tell you, when you can contently slum it on the couch watching 15 year old Full House reruns and say to your self, “God bless this precious time together with Danny, Uncle Jesse and that Mary Kate / Ashley conjoined twin”, you have officially achieved Zen status! I don’t think you don’t have to jump out of airplanes to live an appreciative, fulfilling life, but you do have to be appreciative of the fulfillment that you get out of what you do. Don’t believe me? Ask Bob Sagat.

So while Zenning it up on the couch last night, I got to thinking about how differently us kids in the sick blood fight see time. How is it that the same 60 seconds can seem so differently depending on what side of the syringe you are on? Maybe this will help you see time like I have the past 938 days…

- The longest Year in the life of a sick blood family starts when a doctor you just met says “I’m sorry, your child has cancer”, and ends when a doctor you would give your life for says “Your child is ready to start Long Term Maintenance."

- The longest Month in the life of a sick blood family begins with that very first syringe of Induction, a dose of race horse steroids big enough to make Barry Bonds jealous. It’s also a good month to buy stock in your local grocery store.

- The longest Week in the life of a sick blood family is that week waiting for the bone marrow results to rule out a relapse. That week lasts about a month.

- The longest Day in the life of a sick blood family is a clinic day dancing with Mister Baxter, taking in chemo by IV, one…drop…at…a…time.

- The longest Hour in the life of a sick blood family is spent waiting for your blood test results, wondering if they will be good enough to allow you to go to that birthday party or field trip. Or to get back on to chemo.

- The longest 15 Minutes in the life of a sick blood family is watching your restrained child from a monitor as she undergoes radiation therapy, wondering with each tick of the clock if that was the second that saved her life. Or if that was the second that denied you grandchildren. The longest 15 Seconds is watching that door inch it’s way closed, knowing that when it finally closes, the next time you see your beautiful child, the course of her life may have changed forever.

- The longest Minute in the life of a sick blood family is when the syringe is in your unsedated child’s spine or hip for the first time.

- The longest Second in the life of a sick blood family is the moment that it takes for your mind to process the word “relapse”. You know instantly that the word is not right, but processing the shock hits you like a delayed sonic boom.

But the good news is …

- The shortest Year in the life of a sick blood family is the last year of Long Term Maintenance, not from the beginning looking forward, but from the end looking back. How did you get here? Is it really almost over? Where did all this hair come from?

- The shortest Month in the life of a sick blood family is the surprisingly peaceful time between the onset of radiation and when the fatigue and nausea hit. It actually feels like a well deserved break from the harshness of treatment, and a chance to compose yourself for the fight to continue. It was an unexpected oasis of time.

- The shortest Week in the life of a sick blood family is a wonderful whirlwind wish trip to Disneyworld! I’m speculating on that one :-)

- The shortest Day in the life of a sick blood family is that wonderful day that you spend celebrating the good test results that you were praying for after a terrifying relapse scare. True, you have to settle back into the realities of the treatment war…but not today, you just won the battle!

- The shortest Hour in the life of a sick blood family is craft time with your Child Life Specialist.

- The shortest Minute in the life of a sick blood family is spent reading that special, but unexpected card or email from someone going out of their way to make sure you know that you are in their thoughts. Survive through treatment takes medical expertise, but living through treatment takes people who care.

- The shortest Second in the life of a sick blood family is that moment your child realizes that she won! Again. Continuing a suspiciously amazing streak of good luck at the daily picture bingo game, with a prize of her choice that seems to make another day of inpatient stay a little easier.


Well, the clock keeps ticking and the day is whizzing past me. I think I’ll take a nap. With purpose, of course.

Luv,
Julianna Banana
“May your hope spring eternal, and may your fear spring a leak.”

P.S. – Speaking of Bob Sagat, did you ever see a documentaty called “The Aristocrats”? Whoa, Full House just ain’t the same after that show, trust me!



Tuesday, March 28, 2006 - Happy Ali-Fornia Day!


Hey Californians and cancer fighters, Happy Ali-Fornia Day!! What's the traditional first anniversary gift anyways, dad says it's paper but mom says it's diamonds.

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Monday, March 27, 2006 - The Short Strokes


You know, I have so much that I still want to share with you here before I finish treatment. What I didn’t count on, however, was how difficult it would be for me to actually sit down and type it. There is so much more emotion to this time than I ever expected, and the simple act of putting my thoughts down is tough. And I don’t think that’s going to get any easier for me as the last pill draws closer, so some of those things will probably have to wait until wimpy little me can compose myself better. It’s funny, this cancer fighting business is supposed to be like learning to fly a plane…at first you don’t have a hot ass clue what to do, but the more time you have in the air, the more confident and skilled you get.

Nope, not me! I’m regressing if anything, and I’m in the middle of this two month-long drawn out, not-so-private anxiety attack. I don’t feel weakened by it, my resolve, my sense of hope and all that are all still there and still strong. I just feel, well, stooopid! People in and around the fight like all of you kind enough to take the time to read this, you know what it’s all about, how long the treatment actually goes on. But much of the rest of the “real world” sure doesn’t. That’s the nature of sick blood fighting; you work and work and work and then you work some more…and meanwhile, the rest of the world just keeps on spinning. I suppose that’s good, because nobody should have to have this hanging over them. But the biggest day of my life, the biggest day of my mom and dad’s life, is less than two weeks away and I don’t know if anybody other than family, close friends and you, even realize it (have I told you lately how much I appreciate all of you?!). The reality is that the majority of treatment for these particularly long drawn out fights against the leukemias and lymphomas are done without anyone looking. Most people don’t realize that I’m actually still on this poison called chemo, and almost nobody puts the 2 plus 2 together regarding my prognosis. Out of sight = out of mind = must be out of the woods. Man, to be that oblivious again, that would be sweet!

Way back when, I planned on having a big Beat-Mister-Baxter-With-A-Bat Party, but the closer the day comes, the less I want to tempt that fate. Also, I recently learned that my Nonna is going to be out of the country on my actual last day. She has given so much of herself to my fight that it just wouldn’t be right to have a celebration without her. So given those two things, we’re thinking of bringing in my end of treatment quietly with a picture, maybe a cake, and a complete emotional melt down. Then, sometime after we are back from Smoochamee, Florida and Disneyworld and ALL of my family can be there by my side, we’ll party hard, I’m sure!

By the way, isn’t it cute how dad is typing all this as if he’s actually calling the shots? Ever heard of a KING bee before??

I went to my very first ever Manitoba Moose hockey game on Friday night! WOW, did you know that they FIGHT at hockey games? There’s blood and everything, I was not expecting that. But all that crazy testosterone stuff aside, I’ve never been so proud to be associated with that organization than I am today, especially after seeing a very bald Mark Chipman (team owner and president) presented a cheque for $52,000 to CancerCare Manitoba on the weekend. He even took the time to hunt down my dad and ask about me.

Next time you are at 7-11, make sure you stuff the change donation box for The Rainbow Society but good! While you’re at it, take a good look at that awesome picture of that boy kissing the dolphin. His name is Ryder, he’s a fellow CancerCare Manitoba vet, and he is from one of those families that make it their business to help make life easier for those in the fight after them, whether people like me who benefit from it ever realize it or not. From the ladies who serve us yummy pizza at Christmas parties to the people who fundraise to keep us in craft supplies while we’re hooked up to IV bags, it’s Quiet Heroes like Ryder’s family who help make CancerCare Manitoba one of Canada’s best kept secrets.

I hurt my foot playing the other day, and I had a bad limp happening. My stinky brother says to me, “Julianna, if you can’t walk, you’ll have to get crotches.” Ah yes, another great moment in parenting!

It was a year ago that trolls bullied Caring Bridge into limiting our abilities to link. I knew that would be a loss for those of us who saw Caring Bridge as more than just a place to journal, but as a connected community of support and comradery. And sure enough, it was. I understand the decision and I certainly don’t blame Caring Bridge for doing what they felt they had to do, because what they do for us was, and continues to be, a Godsend. But if you are a Caring Bridge author and your site has the word “visit” in the address, it’s a shame that you will never know what we had. Ask anyone with more than 50,000 hits, they’ll vouch for me. So, (1) to commemorate a rich online community that we once had, (2) to stuff it down the throats of the trolls that ruined it for the rest of us, and (3) to let those out there who threatened Caring Bridge because they were too self-centered to use a password know what I think (that’s right, I said it!), I have updated the Monster Links page.

AND I AM EVEN GOING TO LINK TO IT!

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – Update: March 27, 2006 - mom is still older than dad.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006 - Cuckoo Kachu Mrs Robinson!

Yes, today marks the beginning of what truly is the most wonderful time of the year. It’s mom’s birthday, and for the next 5 weeks, she is a full year older than dad my younger, virile dad. Mom’s birthday: work all day, come home to steak on the bbq. Dad’s birthday: a feast at Magic Kingdom. Something’s wrong with that.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Tuesday, March 21, 2006 - So Much Sand, So Little Time


The following takes place between 12:00 a.m. and 1:00 a.m. as I update after having watched episode after episode of “24” to numb all the suck around here lately. The typing takes place in real time.


Man, I owe lots and lots of people apologies today. I’ll start off with the easy one…I’m sorry, but you can Google it all you want, there’s no Blowame, Saskatchewan. But the harder apology goes out to anyone who tried to contact me by email or through my guestbook this past week. For all intents and purposes, my computer has been turned off, and you can blame my typist/dad for that. Despite whatever impression you may have about the guy from what you read here in my journal, dad is very much a typical guy in almost every sense of the word. And I’m not just talking about your run of the mill using the display towels in the garage, sniffing yesterday’s underwear to see if they’re still good to go, 10 second rule in effect for bbq wings kinda guy. I’m talking the full emotional ostrich, ducking his head in the sand at the first sign of stress.

This past week was a good one to be in the sand. Mom was up north in Churchill all week (for those of you who don’t know where Churchill is, if you go much further north, you end up going south), so she wasn’t around to keep his idle mind briefed on all the things he’s not accomplishing. With my not-so-far-away last chemo pill day inching closer and closer and the looming anxiety that comes with it, what dad really needed was a mental break from dwelling on all-things-cancer.

But then a wonderful role model from our clinic named Kelsey passed away from osteosarcoma. And another brave young year old boy from the CancerCare Manitoba Clinic named Devon also passed away, and it wasn’t even his cancer that took him from his devastated parents, but the very treatment that was supposed to save his life. And the latest kick in the groin was learning that button-cute Hunter relapsed in her sick blood fight just like I did, on the same day that she had her port removed. It turns out that no matter how much 24 you watch, the cancer is still there waiting for you when the DVD is over.

The mutual support and comradery in this pediatric illnesses community of ours is a double edged sword. Yes, you can undoubtedly hack through a whole helluvalot more than you could have on your own. But with care and concern received comes care and concern that you feel back. You don’t even need to be all that close physically, we’re still connected. And when one of us is hurt, we all feel it. In times like these, that sand doesn’t look so bad. So that’s where I have been for this last little while. Trying to take a break, but not able to escape. But I am back now, ready to work. Well, hopefully ready to work…which reminds me of a quote that I stumbled across scouring the internationally recognized definitive source for all inspirational wisdom in nugget form, the Coffee News…

“Perseverance is the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.”

…and of some good advice given to Bruce Wayne by his dad before he was Batman…

Why do we fall down? To learn to pick ourselves up.”

For all of us at CancerCare Manitoba and for all of us brought together by ALL-Kids, it’s time to pick ourselves up and get back to the business of persevering. There is no desert so desolate that we have to call it hopeless, but there are tons of sands to rebuild bigger and better castles to house our hope. And maybe stick our heads in to once in awhile.

Many people have asked me about this song. It is called “Forever” by Ben Harper, and truth be told, I had never so much as heard of it until it was played at Kelsey’s funeral this past Friday. It plays here today in honour of fallen friends.


Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. - It's tax time...welcome to Canada!

P.S. – No winner in The Sopranos Whack Pool yet, although I’m pretty close to shooting Uncle Junior through the picture tube myself. If anyone wants to join us, check out my March 14th update and send me your entry.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006 - Fresh Air

Our clinic and the entire extended family of cancer fighters here in Winnipeg lost a dear friend, and a piece of our collective heart. I’m very sorry and saddened to say that Kelsey King, the young woman who let me share her soliloquy with you all back in my October 25, 2005 journal entry, passed away on Sunday. A beautiful, courageous and extremely talented friend to anyone who needed it, Kelsey was the quintessential role model for all of us, children and parents, in her own quiet and graceful way. Kelsey left this world just a day shy of her 19th birthday. That is just so wrong.

As a rule, I never reprint anything in here without permission, but I’m going to break that rule today and share with you the last lines of Kelsey’s obituary. Beautifully written by the incredible talent that she was.

“I try to think about the Lord’s plan for me as I listen coldly to the hands of the ticking of the clock. It’s like breaths of fresh air are dwindling but I have to understand that Heaven’s fresh air is waiting for me too.”

May you breathe deeply now, Kelsey.

Luv,
Julianna Banana and Family



Tuesday, March 14, 2006 - Randomonium III


My Great Grandma doesn't read this, but please wish her a warm Happy 85th Birthday today in your thoughts! I had the good fortune of watching the Montana's serving staff put giant horns on her head while they sung their version of Happy Birthday to her in Brandon this past weekend. A couple of months back, my Great Grandma had a heart attack and a stroke, and spent over a month in the hospital recovering. So believe me when I say that the smile on her face when they put that goofy hat on her was well earned. It wasn't that long ago that we didn't think we'd ever see it again.

*****

[Cute Little Me] – How come Nicholas gets to go and I don’t?

[My Overbearing Dad] – Becaues he is our first born.

[Cute Little Me] - Awwww, how come Nicholas always gets to be the first born?

*****

April 6th may be The Big One, but the second most important date of 2006 just passed us by, with everyone in our half Italian household is just wreaking of anxiety with baited anticipation!

Of course, I am talking about the season premiere of The Sporanos, which aired Sunday night here in Canada (does it air earlier in the US?). Man, was that a curveball at the end of the show or what?! I had been planning on doing something last week, but time slipped away on me. Luckily, none of the major Sopranos cast got knocked off in the premiere (yet), so there is still time to do this…

THE BANANA SOPRANO WHACK POOL

Da Rules:

Correctly picks which main character will be the first to get whacked this season from the following.

Tony da boss
Carmela da wife
Meadow da daughter
AJ da son
Uncle Junior
Janice da psycho sister
Christopher da nephew
Adrianna’s ghost in one of Christopher or Carmela’s dreams
Silvio da consigliere
Paulie Walnuts
Dr. Melfi da shrink
Bobby Bakala
Johnny Sak, da New York Boss
Phil Leotardo, da hard-ass New York right hand man
Artie da restaurant owner
A Bada Bing stripper (Degree of difficulty: she has to be dancing at the time)
That lady FBI agent (Degree of difficulty: she can’t be dancing at the time)

Tie Breaker Questions:

1. What happens to the body?
a) buried on the farm upstate
b) buried in the woods
c) buried at the dump
d) thrown in the river/ocean
e) left at the scene

2. What episode does said character get whacked?
(pick a number from 2 to 20)

Da Prize:

The losing contestants have to mail the winning contestant a postcard from their corner of the world (bonus points if you use your mafia name, mine is Julianna “Squeezy Cheeks” Banana). I’ll put a pink wish bracelet in with mine.

To start things off, I’ll go first:
Phil Leotardo…left at the scene…episode 7…with a candlestick

Now remember, the character has to actually get whacked…no natural causes or accidents. Get your pick to me by email or in my guestbook…but hurry, the pool could end any week!

*****

Thanks so much for all the kind words of support left for me after my little emotional meltdown last update. I meant everything that I said, but I there may have been a little updating-at-2am-melodrama mixed in there, too. I didn’t mean to give the impression that I’m shutting down this site, because I certainly won’t be doing that. Even if I stopped journaling cold turkey, I would leave this up as long as Caring Bridge will let me. When I was first diagnosed, I read lots of journal histories top to bottom. It was therapeutic, and something that I needed to do to get passed the shock and fear. So as far as I’m concerned, the more of our stories out there, the better it is for the next warriors coming up behind us, regardless of our obstacles or outcomes.

But that’s moot, I’m not stopping cold turkey. Yes, I do feel like I should be doing more to pass the attention torch on to other kids who are right in the thick of their life-and-death battles and would really benefit from the support. However, what I had in mind for this page was maybe less writing specifically about me, and to use this space and your attention more as a home base for projects to help support other families (which I hope some of you might be interested in working on collaboratively). I have ideas, man, and there’s plenty more where they came from…but I just don’t have the spare time or energy to see them through (stop laughing at me Kristie!).

*****

We have a dinner time tradition in my house. Either me or my stinky brother grabs a pencil, spins it, and whoever it points to has to tell everyone about their day (why we do it with some of the lame-o responses we get is beyond me, but tradition is tradition). As with most things in our house, the thought of one pencil and two kids provided an excellent platform to launch drag down, no holds barred sibling fights. The solution? Get some parental support to shut my stinky brother up, I say, but seeing how I can have this, um, let’s call it a “reputation” of being a wee bit whiny, that wasn’t going to happen. However, and if you quote me on this I will deny knowing you, Nicholas whipped up some ingenius. Behold the “What Did You Do Today?” Machine…



Yes, it’s battery powered and it actually works! Now we fight over who gets to flip the switch.

*****

From Batman Returns…

“Why do we fall down, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

*****

Only 37 more sleeps until my wish trip to Disneyworld, and just look at the excitement and anticipation on our faces!



I’m no Homeland Security expert, but if you were working the border would you let that serial killer on the right through? Looking at these pictures, you can see a little more why mom’s friends call me “Mini Mary”.

*****

Speaking of my wish trip, I’ll leave you with some Give Kids The World trivia: Did you know that GKTW is not located in Orlando, Florida, but in Kissimmee, Florida? This should not be confused with Blowame, Saskatchewan.


Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. - Hey, easy up, SaskBuddies! I am entitled to talk SaskSmack, the Italian-less half of my bloodline runs through Estevan, Weyburn and Regina.




Monday, March 6, 2006 - A Future, and a Flip of the Coin


The song you are listening to is called “In The Deep” by Bird York. Do a Google search on the lyrics some time, the song is a perfect theme song for anyone that might have cause to either write or to visit a web page like this. It was nominated for an Academy Award last night, but didn’t win because, apparently, it just isn’t easy out there for a pimp.

I’m playing this song in honor of the movie that actually beat out the gay cowboys. I didn’t see Brokeback Mountain, so I can’t say how good it was, but Crash was perhaps the best movie that I’ve seen in years. Well, that and the Spongebob Squarepants Movie. I’m going to steel a little from the journal entry that I wrote just after I saw the movie last August.

Did you ever see that movie “Crash”? Literally, it is the anti-feelgood movie of the year, but there wasn’t a scene in it that didn’t make you think. It was a movie with several seemingly unrelated plots, and every character had their own personal circumstances and challenges that the rest of the world didn’t necessarily see. But as script-fate would have it, all of their lives came crashing together due to the pull of tragedy.

If you are reading this, welcome to our collective “Crash”! How is it that you and I are here, sharing these words at this exact time and place? We probably didn’t know each other before, we all wear our own circumstances and have walked down our own life paths…and yet, somehow, you are sitting in front of your monitor right this very second, connecting with each other. And when you think about it, this connection of ours, is nothing short of a divine gift.

…(skipping a couple of paragraphs)…

So I ask you again, how is it that you and I are here, sharing these words at this exact time and place? I don't know the specifics, but it sure isn't chance. Whatever the answer is, it's divine. And whatever I did to deserve your attention I’ll never know. But please, PLEASE know that I am grateful for it, and I am grateful for you!

Thank you for crashing into me.


I’m reprinting and reemphasizing that again for you for a few important reasons. First and foremost, I truly mean it…Thank You for crashing in to me! Where I’d be and what shape I’d be in today had I never had the good fortune of finding your hand up, well, I don’t even want to think about it.

Secondly, you may have noticed that I’ve been less jokey jokey and more thinky thinky lately. That’s pretty much how I’ve been in real life, too. My time on treatment is winding down, and I’m feeling it. I know that it isn’t over with the last pill, and the anxiety that comes without the security of chemo and the uncertainty of what’s to come has been overwhelming at times. Truthfully, it’s been mentally paralyzing. My battle with being off-treatment isn’t going to be a physical one, it’s going to be between my ears. Staying sane, staying functional, staying focussed with the cloud of relapse hanging over my head.

When I relapsed, I point blank asked my doctor what my chances were. I’ve never been able to bring myself to type that number here, but I can tell you that it is less than a flip of the coin. Even after I finish my planned treatment on April 6th. Until now, that number was useless to me. Well, maybe not useless, because as long as I HAVE a number, I HAVE hope (and as you know by now, without hope, there is no hope!). But the specific number was definitely irrelevant to me. Irrelevant because I was going to fight and fight and fight, and no matter what meds or procedures they threw my way, I was going to smash my way through it. And just to spite cancer I was going to do it with a smile and a laugh.

And I have, with a laugh and a smile, and I will right up until my last planned pill. But what do I do on April 7th? I won’t have “the fight” to focus on, because the fight will be over. All I’ll have left is that number. After two and a half years of circumstances much, much worse than this, that number is finally catching up with me. I’m not as mentally strong as I need to be for this, and I’m starting to see symptoms of that bleeding in to my every day life. Maybe they’ve been there all along and I’m just clueing in now, I don’t know, but I can’t hide from them now and that’s my new challenge.

Thirdly, I feel like I’m coming to a Caring Bridge cross roads. Do I keep on keeping on here, or do I sail off into the sunset? I know that I won’t be journaling here forever, and I’m trying to get my head around how relevant it would be to write about my day-to-day fight if I’m done fighting. “The Life And Times Of My Dad Trying To Keep It Together” isn’t exactly the legacy I’m shooting for! I think, no, I KNOW that I have a lot to offer in terms of how to make it through to the treatment finish line, and there’s still tons of lessons that I still want to share with you as my OT day approaches. I intend to do that, both here and through other projects (I have more ideas than I have time and energy!), that’s an obligation that I feel to this extended pediatric cancer family of ours. But the regular updates of life at The Banana house, I’m not so sure it has a place or much relevance after we celebrate a fight well fought by going on my wish trip at the end of next month.

There are some families out there who, at this very moment, are celebrating birthdays, taking vacations, watching and savouring special milestones in their children’s lives like first steps, losing teeth and music recitals. They are completely oblivious to the words that they are one day going to hear from a doctor they have yet to meet, “I’m sorry, your child has cancer.” And they, too, will be assigned their own number that will redefine how they see and face a world and a future, just like me. When that happens, the story of their day-to-day lives will be relevant, much more so than mine as I move beyond treatment. My sincere wish for them is successful, uneventful treatment, the strength and resolve to see their fight through, and that they may have the wonderfully good fortune of crashing in to you, too.


Luv,
Julianna Banana



Thursday, March 2, 2006 - Forever


[Cute Little Me] - Daaad, pills make my tummy hurt.

[My Dad, tucking me in to bed] - You know what sweetie? Pretty soon you won’t have to take pills anymore.

[Cute Little Me] - Forever?

[My Dad, with a lump in his throat] - Forever, I hope.

[Cute Little Me] - Daddy, I don’t want pills anymore.

[My Dad, with a big lump in his throat] - Very soon, pink baboon.

[Cute Little Me] - Forever?

[My Dad, with a huge lump in his throat] - I think forever.


I pray forever.


I also pray for Colton Griffin tonight, and I ask that you do too. Colton is the baby brother to the Amazing Angel JakieBear, Jake Griffin. Jake was one of the first children that I had the good fortune of coming across when I first started down my Caring Bridge journey. I know this may sound pretty superficial, but I think I was just awestruck at how adorable little Jakiebear was…and that there was NO WAY that a boy that cute could, should or would have a brain tumor. Yet he did. And I, along with the countless families who his mom helped through her selfless direction and support, and an army of loyal supporters, followed the Griffins through every word of their fight, until that day when the song changed on Jake’s site. And we knew.

Angel Jake’s brother Colton and his parents are in a hospital tonight preparing for a surgery to repair a development problem with his skull. Colt isn’t even three months old, and he is making his way to the same hospital and the same neurosurgery department that took good care of his big bro. And so are his scared parents.

Angel Jake never met his baby brother. But you can.


Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - I cannot believe that it has been two years already.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006 - Paroled

I got to stay up past bedtime tonight. How could I possibly be expected to sleep when “Money Money Money Monnneyy…Monnnaaayy” was on!

On to the news: I’m home! I’ve actually been home for a few days now, but just haven’t been able to get on here to share that good news with you. I still have tubes sticking out of my chest, too. I still don’t have the conclusive word if I have a central line infection or not, but it’s not looking like it. Heck, I went to school today, that’s how good I’m feeling!

So, the story behind this song. My dad and his big gut (he says that he’s just “big boned”, but I don’t think bones are supposed to be flabby) were driving to their dreaded Saturday morning Weight Watchers weigh-in (for all you chronically skinny people not up on how ‘DubyaDubya’ works, it goes something like this…oink Sunday to Wednesday, starve Thursday to Friday, stand on a scale Saturday, all the while looking up to the Heavens secretly praying to God within the confines of your head that if you don’t go up just this one time, you pinky swear that you will be extra-strict from here on in, then peak down at the scale and see that you lost 0.1 pounds and go celebrate with a bacon double cheeseburger). To take his mind off the impending embarrassment of what was sizing up to be a 10 lb week, he was radio surfing and settled on an interesting show on CBC. During the show, they played this song. Great tune, interesting lyrics, it really caught my dad’s attention. The only problem was that he didn’t know what it was called or who sung it. As an aside, here’s a little piece of gold for all you people who never know the name of that great song you like so much…jot down even just a few consecutive words from it, and do a Google search on those lyrics with the word “lyrics”, and 9 times out of 10, your song will be the first hit. When that didn’t work for dad, he tracked down the name of the radio show host and emailed him asking how he could get his hands on the song and the CD.

Guess who emailed us back with an MP3 of the song attached? Zaki Ibrahim, the wonderful artist that wrote and performs this song, along with a kind note and personal words of encouragement for me! Thank you Zaki, that was so thoughtful of you.


Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – My dad read the calendar about as effectively as he does his taxes…my end of treatment isn’t March 31st, it’s April 6!





Tuesday, February 21, 2006 - Infectiously Yours


Well, I’m still checked in to The CK5 Spa. I’m telling you, the torture that I’m being put through…crafts, Play Dough, DVD’s, play rooms, hospital-wide picture bingo that is conspicuously easy to win, round-the-clock entertainment from my nurses, meals in bed, never more than 5 steps away from being able to pee (ok, maybe that’s more of a guy dream), clean PJ’s & other special deliveries from home…ya, I got it rough, man! When I check out, I’m going to enquire about vacation packages, maybe slip the steward a 20-spot for a corner suite. The only thing missing is a mini-bar, and if I stay in here too much longer, my mom (a.k.a. my roommate) will hit the bottle and I can swig off of her.

The good news: The CK5 Spa pretty much IS a spa for me. The bad news: I’m still here. I should have been tipping my bell hop and stuffing my luggage with mini-shampoos on my way out of here today, but it looks like I may have an infection in my tubies. We have to wait for the results and then plan a course of action from there, but if it’s a nasty infection, the tubies will have to go.

Hmm…just finished my last scheduled IV chemo on Friday…someone get me my ouiji board, this smells like a sign! Did someone say “free swim at the Y next month”?

You’ll have to excuse me, Francesco the pool boy just showed up for my hot oil massage. Ciao!

Infected and infectiously yours,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – I love this song! It’s called “Call Ya Bluf” by Zaki Ibrahim, and you’re not going to find this one on ITunes. Yet. There’s a story behind this song, I’ll share it with you when things calm down here. Grow…grow…wowowowowww!

P.S.S. – I can’t believe it, there is an advertisement for some German online casino in my guestbook! I’ll bet you 100 large of Janet Gretzky bucks that a spambot got my guestbook address.

Laaate Saturday, February 18, 2006 - Spa Girls Gone Wild

No, that pic of me flashing my moneymaker at the top of the page is not from some Girls Gone Wild video, that is me, Nurse Jenny and Mister Baxter as I get my tubies accessed for my last scheduled hard-core chemo yesterday Friday! My counts just barely made the cut for chemo, but I’d still be considered neutropenic (“Neutropenic” is a Latin derivative from the words “neutro” which means ‘lay on the couch watching DVD's all day’, and “penic” which means ‘slaves, fetch me some cheese’).

And just to prove that the oncology gods have a sense of humor, I came down with an intermittent fever and a booboo tummy today and was admitted up to The CK5 Spa late this evening. So it’s girls night out at The Spa. Just me, my mom…and (you guessed it) my date who can't take a hint, Mister Baxter!

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Friday, February 17, 2006 - Thanks For The Dances, Mister Baxter


My counts at clinic last week were too low to go ahead with chemo, so my body has been taking a well-deserved rest from the scheduled nausea-in-a-bag. “We never go ahead with chemo on Julianna’s third week, do we”, Dr. Y. astutely observed and said to my mom. By this time in my harsh protocol, my little body just gives out. Just like clockwork. By the fourth and final week, I usually bounce back just enough to do a dance with Mister Baxter, my IV pole.

This morning, maybe even right this very second while you are reading this, I am scheduled for my last all-day dance with Mister Baxter. Not just the last one planned for this cycle, but the last scheduled IV chemo day ever.

EVER!

Those woodpeckeresque whacking and knocking sounds you hear is me frantically touching every piece of wood in the room! I’ve had the relapse call before, I don’t take anything for granted. But if you were sitting in doctor’s office with me over two years ago when Dr. Y. first pulled out those three intimidating pages of planned pills, poles and pokes, each line representing an entire week of my life, you’d see Friday, February 17, 2006 for the personal and family milestone that it is. Yay me! (knock knock knock, whack whack whack…). Thank you my dear Mister Baxter, you have done so much more to help me reclaim my life than I could have ever expected from an inanimate metal bar. Bax, you’re the kid at the end of the block who had the swimming pool, and summer is OVER, baby! The next time I see you, I hope it’s with a sledge hammer.

Speaking of Mister Baxter, check out this amazing guestbook entry that I received last week!


Dear Mr. Julianna Banana:
[From the editor: I’m going to forget the fact that you just called me, the cutest banana girl in Winnipeg, MR Julianna Banana]

I must tell you that this past week I struggled a little bit with what you are going through right now. One of my little men, Bryan, 7, was diagnosed the hard way (that is by ambulance to our city's big kid hospital) with Type 1 diabetes.

But imagine, in the midst of the uncertainty I was facing in the ER, while my man struggled to survive, I saw it: the one thing that could make me smile and remember that hope is everything.

So I'm sure you think it was a person, or a book, or something significant like that, right? Nope, just a run-of-the-mill IV pole. There he was - our own personal "Mr. Baxter". I now realize that the Baxter people make everything "IV" and our Mr. Baxter was delivering life giving insulin into my little man's body. But it was more then that: it was God sending hope from Julianna to Bryan.

I'm glad to report that Bryan is now home and recovering well. He has gotten awfully good at getting shots (unfortunately) but he is slowly understanding that he needs them to live.

But I didn't type in to say my story...I typed in to say thank you. For allowing me to visit your little corner of the world - and for all the wonderful things that you unknowingly bring to my life.

There is no white flag - always hope, always love, and always God's promise to us all.

- Kim, MO USA



Mister Baxter goes international, how awesome is that?! I want to go on record as making sure you all know that I did not name Mister Baxter. All of us CancerCare Manitoba kids know Mister Baxter, and we have Jenny, one of our AMAZING nurses to thank for that! That should give you a little bit of insight in to the fantastic treatment environment that the gifts-from-God staff at clinic and up in the CK5 Spa (our hospital ward) make for us kids in the trenches. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I didn’t want this frigging sick blood, but if I have to have it, I feel like I hit the treatment lottery to have it in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada!

I have been exceptionally crappy at replying to my email and guestbook entries these past few weeks, there just isn’t enough time in my 25 hour days. If you tried to contact me and didn’t hear back from me, I am very sorry. It’s just been one of those crazy times and I’m pretty scattered. One of those emails that I have been so delinquent in responding to just can't be kept to myself, it needs to be shared. Those of you in the sick blood fight (any of my ALL-KIDS bro’s and sistas reading this?) will be particularly interested to meet David, son, brother, angel, and hero.


The most recent entry though touched me in such a special way I had to share. See as a peds oncology and stem cell transplant nurse for 15 of my 16 years…of nursing I really appreciate your feelings of joy mixed with anxiety.

March 31st will indeed be a HUGE day. And on that day I plan to light a special pretty in pink candle for your girl. You see on April 12, 1968 my big brother died after a 4 year battle with ALL. He was on so many clinical trials but one trial in particular was for 6 MP. I'd like to think that in some small way my David helped pave the road for this beautiful girl's cure. I am teary eyed just thinking about it. Enjoy every perfect day, every smile, giggle, and dip in the delightful blue you share together. You so deserve each of these moments.

Warmly, Mindy


[From the editor: For those of you who don’t know, 6MP, or mercaptipurine, is one of the pillars of acute lymphoblastic leukemia treatment. It is one of the key factors behind the incredible progress that has been made in sick blood treatment compared to even just a generation ago, and why us kids in the cancer trenches can undergo so much of our treatment in the comfort of our comfy homes instead of in a hospital ward.]

Dear Mindy,

You are so right, your David absolutely helped pave the road that me and so many grateful families are walking down right now, there is not a doubt in my mind! cancer is our war, and your brother is a vet who, in the process of giving his life, made it possible so that other children like me could have more hope. That I am even here today to be able to type this thanking David is in no small part thanks to David! How fitting it is that my very last scheduled med at the end of next month is a 6MP pill. Mindy, I want you to know that I will be taking that hopefully last ever (whack whack whack…knock knock knock…) 6MP pill specifically in honor and in gratitude of your big brother David.


Looking for a new dance partner,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – I have a BIG PERSONAL FAVOR to ask of you. Could you please spare a few moments to go and show your support for Angel Star’s mom? It was one year ago last week that her Star went to heaven. And to Christi and The Thomas Team?? And to owesome Oliver??? Both Christi and Oliver are really in tough spots right now, and would undoubtedly welcome your prayers. I also guarantee you that once you go to these sites, you’re going to become “regulars”! You'll see what I mean when you get there :-)

P.S.S. – No, I didn’t forget to run spell check, that’s how we spell ‘favor’ and ‘honor’ on this side of the permafrost.

P.S.S.S. – In keeping with this music theme of the past couple of weeks, next update I am going to play the best song that you have never heard before!




Monday, February 13, 2006 - No White Flag


Hey everyone, it’s ghostwriter dad typing atcha today.

Growing up in Brandon, Manitoba, I had an arcade buddy named Brent. Brent and I were born on the same day of the same year in the same town, and probably roomed together in the same hospital nursery. Being from different parts of town we never went to the same school, but like most of the 80’s teenagers who grew up south of Victoria Avenue, we hung out in that sunless dungeon known JJ’s Arcade.

One indistinguishable day, I was listening to “Run To You” by Bryan Adams on the radio when the phone rang. Brent was dead.

To this day, when “Run To You” randomly comes on the radio, I only need to hear those first few guitar notes before I am living that phone call all over again in my head. My mouth even goes dry just like it did when I heard those words. Just as Galaga and Chek Hockey will always remind me of the good times Brent and I had when “high score” was literally the single most important facet of life, “Run To You” will forever be linked to that shock and confusion that came with his passing.

That is the kind of relationship that I have with this song, the most meaningful song of our cancer journey, “White Flag” by Dido. The song is undoubtedly beautiful, but first and foremost, this is my rally song. It will be forever linked to the most terrifying moment of my life, New Year’s Eve 2003, and to a line drawn in the sand of my resolve thanks to a wish, a kiss, and my most prized worldly possession, a twenty-five cent plastic toy bracelet.

Back on January 2, 2004 when I first played this song, I wrote…



The worst year of our lives came to a close, but 2003 just couldn’t pass quietly into our past without taking one more swing at us. On New Years Eve, I got that surreal, devastating phone call that all of us leukemia parents fear, but don’t really think they will get. Julianna has relapsed in her central nervous system.

I could not believe what I was hearing. My chest tightened and I could barely find the breath to talk. Ever since that phone call, I keep replaying in my head all those people telling me how fortunate we were to have the “good” leukemia, that the prognosis is wonderful. Our little sweetie’s treatment has literally been textbook up to this point. She achieved 0.4 percent leukemia cells in her blood after just one week of induction, the best her doctor had ever seen. She has lost virtually no hair and looks as healthy as the children that play on our street. She hasn’t experienced any sort of complication that required anything more than antibiotics and Tylenol. With one phone call, it’s a whole new ball game.

My leukemia knowledge is pretty limited, but my understanding of our sweetie’s situation after talking to her doctor was that this is either devastating news, or really devastating news, depending on whether she has relapsed in her bone marrow, too. That’s what we have been doing today, waiting to find out how much hope we have. The procedure had to wait until today because of the holidays.

Yesterday, I picked up a pink bracelet of Julianna’s off the floor and handed it back to her. She said to me “no Dad, you keep it, it’s a make a wish bracelet.” I sat right down on the floor, picked up my big girl and put her into my lap and wished for her bone marrow to be clear. For good measure, I had Julianna seal the wish with a kiss. I’m not a superstitious man, but when you’re desperate for hope, I’m learning that you hang on to anything you can grab. And what I grabbed was that bracelet, childishly hoping that it would help deliver my wish. I couldn’t let go of it. It was in my pocket the rest of the day and evening. When I went to bed last night, I actually taped it to my hand so that when I woke up, it would be there. It almost sounds pathetic to me typing that today, but there was no way that bracelet was coming out of my hand until I knew.

Today, Julianna’s wish bracelet restored us with some hope to hang on to. Her bone marrow thankfully does not show leukemia involvement.

As the song you are listening says, there will be no white flag above my door.


When our family history is written, this will be our watershed moment. Our collective gut check. It was the death of the last of our innocence, and the birth of our resolve. cancer is a bitch. Not only does it systematically dismantle your physical health, but it will gladly steal as much of your emotional and psychological well being as you allow. And if you are reading this and you are just starting down your own cancer path, pay very close attention, because I just typed the five most important words in my entire two and a half years of cancer hell…

AS MUCH AS YOU ALLOW!

It can take away your health or your hair, but cancer doesn’t automatically take away your hope, you allow it to. It doesn’t take away your dignity, you allow it to. And it damn well has no business taking away your resolve, unless you allow it to. Every aspect of your coping is yours to control. When you don't make the conscious decision to apply that control, you are making the unconscious decision to forfeit that control to cancer. You may not even realize that you are doing it, but no decision is still a decision, but by omission. And cancer will gladly and greedily take as much as you allow it to.

Don’t let it! Stare your demon square in the eye and yell “NO!” Make the conscious decision to fight cancer on each and every front. Physically. Emotionally. Psychologically. Spiritually. Any ‘ally’ you can think of, draw your line in the sand and spit in cancer’s face! I know first hand how difficult it is to do, and I in no way mean to trivialize what is undoubtedly the defining challenge of our entire lives. But you have to do it, man, you just have to. You and the wonderful people that love you deserve nothing less. Do all the things that make life the beautiful commodity that it is. Love like it’s Valentine’s Day every day. Laugh like you’re Chris Rock’s drinking buddy.

Not because of cancer, but despite it.

Luv,
Julianna’s dad


P.S. – and don’t ever let me catch you capitalizing the word ‘cancer’! Remember, it doesn’t respect you, so don’t respect it.

Wednesday, February 8, 2006 - A Quarter Million Words and Counting...

[Dad] – “So sweetie, what do you think it will be like when they take out your tubies (my central line)?”

[Cute Little Me] –“Oh my life, MY LIIIIFE!!! I want to go swimming! But I have to stand on my tippy toes. I’m going to have a bone marrow, and that’s scary, but I can go swimming.”

Yup, my treatment clock truly is winding down, and my number one top priority end-of-treatment concern is swimming. Not infection. Not long term complications. Not the risk of relapse. Swimming. There is something amazingly right about that! I wish you all could be five like me.

According to my goesintos, my very last pill will be 1 mg of mercaptipurine, Friday night on March 31, 2006 in the Year of the Dog at 8:30 pm in my kitchen with a drink of water, 2 hours after cake and ice cream, with everyone but my kitty in heaven Lulu by my side, my dad taking videos and pictures, in my pj’s but before I brush my teeth, there will be a waxing crescent moon in the sky, and my mom will be 38 years and 1 week old. Not that I’ve thought much about it.

But the finish line is finally in sight. Heck, I only have two more dates on my dance card with Mister Baxter, my IV pole! You may have noticed that, unlike with my other big events over the last two and a half years, like for example the premiere of The Spongebob Squarepants movie, I am not actually counting down the days. I can’t bring myself to do it! I’m nervous about being off treatment and I’ve been blind-sided by relapse before…I don’t want to tempt fate by jinxing what deep down buried under these fears and anxieties is what will be one of the most significant events in my life!

So, what’s a paranoid, superstitious and button-cute girl to do? You won’t catch me counting down the days, but I will keep on with a series of these smaller count downs of things that have come to have profound meanings to me. Like this music count down of mine. By my estimation, I have typed over a quarter of a million words journalizing my life with cancer! And surprisingly, I feel like I have a whole bunch of things I want to share with you that I just haven’t gotten around to yet. So this next couple of months may not be so much about what is happening to me, but about what I have learned along the way.

Which reminds me, the Second #2 Most Meaningful Song in my cancer journey is…

”Over The Rainbow” by the biggest, baddest Hawaiian, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole!

This song is perfect, isn’t it? Everybody remembers “Over The Rainbow” from their earliest childhood, but the first time you heard this version, it stopped you in your tracks, didn’t it? To me, it’s the world’s best-ever mood-flipper song…when you’re sad it will make you smile, when you’re smiling it will make you cry, when you just got it together it will bring out your despair, and when you are in despair it will make you feel hopeful. And smile. And cry. All at the same time. Don’t believe me? Take the Kamakawiwo’ole challenge: click refresh, close your eyes and surrender yourself to the song from start to finish.

This song also makes me take pause to appreciate Angel Conor Silly Billy and Angel Chris Clownfish. If life has a sound track, then surely this song belongs to them.


Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – Proving once again that hair is for sissies, check out the front page of the

CancerCare Manitoba 2005 Annual Report. Be sure to scroll down and check out the article on Bananavision on page 10, too.

Wednesday, February 1, 2006 - Fix Me

Ready to play “What’s the Deal With Julianna Banana?” Go back to the top of this page, study my new main picture, then come back and list the two things that are different about me. Ready? Go…

Ok, here’s the correct answers:

1. I’ve moved well passed the “Michael Landon – the Little Joe Years” hair do, and settled nicely in to my new, improved “Michael Landon – the Pa Ingalls Years” coiffure! As anyone who has undergone radiation treatment knows, hair is for SISSIES, anyways. But when you gots da curls, baby, you gots ta let it grow.

2. My left ear is apparently one inch higher than my right ear, which you will notice if you are checking out how crooked my NEW GLASSES are!

An interesting thing happened to my dad the other day. He was loitering around the book section in Costco when someone said to him, “Excuse me, but are you Julianna Banana’s dad?” Huh? My DAD got recognized?! How, I don’t really know, we do our best to keep his made-for-radio mug off of here. But every once in awhile he manages to sneak his face somewhere on the net, like on Madelaine’s page which has a pic of her dad and my dad taken at the CancerCare Christmas party. Which dad belongs to which girl, you ask? I’ll give you a hint…my dad is the good looking one!

This woman from Costco had a very handsome young boy (and potential suitor for me!) in tow with her. But what she didn’t have with her was her other child. Her Angel child. I wasn’t thoughtful enough to get your name, but if you are reading this, I am so very sorry for your tremendous loss. Deeply sorry. I think the fact that you appeared so together and capable, and that we were even having the conversation in the first place (I’ve been recognized before, but never my dad), caught him off guard. But I am also sorry, and in fact ashamed, that he never asked what your sweet child’s name was. I would be honored if you would share that with me now, and perhaps let me “introduce” your Angel to the good people out there who are also reading this if you like.

That brief chance encounter underscored for me just how important we all are to each other in this wonderful online community of ours. I would not be writing this if I was not sick, and they would not have talked if she had not experienced such loss. There are uncountable connections and interconnections just like that among us. And that is a big reason why the Second Most Meaningful Song in my cancer journey is…

Pretty much anything by Coldplay, but specifically, “Fix You”


I played this song back on August 11, 2005 when I posted a letter to family of Angel Christine “Clownfish” Schauf. As I said before, Chris paved sidewalks in hearts and stepped in the wet cement. Good people like her aren’t supposed to lose their cancer battles. And they damn well don’t deserve their cancer battles! Yet she did, and that is just so thoroughly unjust.

I purposely do not talk about my spirituality on here. I can’t look you in the eye and preach the details of my beliefs, as I don’t completely understand them myself. I can’t reconcile the purpose of so much hurt behind the tremendous losses of people like Chris. I can’t begin to get my head around how it could possibly be a holy act to take a child from a parent like the woman dad met at Costco. People have shared their beliefs with me, and I have heard the earthly explanations of what is supposed to be heavenly intents. But I just cannot find it in me to accept it. And until I find a way to reconcile that, I will undoubtedly struggle in this limbo between faith and resentment.

Around this same time last summer, I came to a realization about myself that I didn’t want to believe. I am not actually one of “the strong ones”, but rather I am one of “the weak ones” trying desperately to be strong. The God’s honest truth is that I haven’t had a tear-free week in two and a half years! I feel all my inner coping struggles when I listen to “Fix You”. Spiritually…God will you fix me? Personally…can I fix me? Interpersonally…can I fix you?

And when I listen to this song, the answers feels like “yes”.

I spent a special all day Tuesday hooked up to my IV pole, Mister Baxter. What made our chemo dance so special is that this was the first week of my VERY LAST scheduled four week cycle of vincristine! After that it’s one last 6 week cycle of pills. And after I’m going to Disneyworld!

And after that is the beginning of the rest of my life.


Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – I actually have two #2 songs in my countdown because, well, because I can’t count! So consider “Fix You” to be #2a, and next update will debut #2b.

Thursday, January 26, 2006 - Brickhouse-Cute

Continuing on with “The Best of The Banana” Music Count Down, the #3 Most Meaningful Song on my cancer journey is…

“BRICKHOUSE” by The Commodores and the dad of that Simple Life chick!

What does this song mean to me? It means crates upon crates of mushrooms, pickles, pretzels and cheese at 3 in the morning. It means gaining weight faster than my dad. It means a medically-induced moodiness that would make Dennis Hopper jealous. It means induction steroids! Dexamethasone, Decadron, Prednisone…sick blood vets, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about! I dubbed it “The Big Eat & Scream”, and this is my theme song.

Not long after I relapsed, The Concerned Caregivers of CancerCare Manitoba released the following emergency public warning…

“The Banana Steroid Advisory System has been upgraded to SEVERE.



Lock your fridges and hide your kids, I’m on Day 24 of The Big Eat & Scream. Four looooong days to go! We’re going to celebrate by not eating a cake.

Fortunately, Winnipeg was able to ride out the storm relatively unscathed, and the pickles commodity market stabilized just in time for the following update after I finished my induction…

Please be advised that the Banana Steroid Advisory System has been downgraded from “red” to “amber”…I am finally off of that nasty dex. The steroids are still in my system and I still ate my weight in pancakes this morning, but I am slowly morphing back into the pleasant, smiley little girl that Induction forgot :-) Ok, I use the word “little” very loosely, I gained close to 10 pounds in this induction…I have been upgraded from “voluptuous” to “brickhouse-cute”.

But most of all, it means “fun”! The day I let cancer take away my ability to laugh is the day I throw in the towel.

And for the record, I’m never throwing in the towel!

Still lettin’ it all hang out,
Julianna Banana




Tuesday, January 24, 2006 - What Will You Do To Make A Difference?

Once again continuing on with “The Best of The Banana” Music Count Down, the #4 Most Meaningful Song on my cancer journey is…

“Never Say Goodbye” by Kyprios!

What does this song mean to me? Basically, I just like it! I received more email from people asking who sang this than any other song but one (hint: that other song is my #1), so clearly I wasn’t the only one this tune connects with. In the heat of a cancer battle, sometimes you want to surrender to a song and dive right in to all the emotions that it brings out in you. But other times you just need a good song to ESCAPE all that emotion. That’s what this song does for me. It says the right things in the right way, laid back and fun for those of us who don’t want to be preached to. It’s upbeat and a real pick-me-up with a great “live for the moment” message despite the fact that it’s actually a much heavier and deeper song than you give it credit when you casually hear it on the radio.

Now, I have a couple of favors to ask of you. First, and I don’t want to get in to the specifics, but if you could keep positive thoughts, or if you are inclined to do so, please pray for my Great Grandma, my family sure would appreciate it!

Second, I received an email that I would like to share with you. It’s from a special family that I have held in high regard for some time, The Wilander’s from LeRoy, Illinois. Young James W is a true survivor, and his mom Patti has supported me right from the beginning. Patti shared with me something that she wrote for her local newspaper about another Illinois family that I also happen to particularly admire (there must be something about rural Illinois and character!), The Wilson’s. This Saturday will mark two years since The Wilson’s lost their Tyler to cancer, and their friends The Wilander’s would like to challenge us all to make a difference in Tyler’s memory. Patti writes…


Mark your calendar for January 28, 2006. I am declaring it to be the first
annual Tyler Day.

No, most of you never met Tyler, but let me tell you what I remember about him. Tyler was diagnosed at age 2 with Rhabdoid tumor, a very rare form of cancer. So rare, in fact, that doctors don't really have a successful cure for it.

Tyler's parents approached their son's illness with courage, and their positive attitude rubbed off on their son. Tyler never considered himself sick. They made his trips to the hospital for his treatments fun, and he enjoyed seeing his friends there and playing in the playroom. In church, he seemed surprised to hear his name in the prayer requests and would exclaim, "That's me!" when he heard it.

I met Tyler and his parents when Tyler was 4. He and my son, James, then 5, were both patients at Carle Clinic. At that time I didn't realized how sick Tyler was. Some of the kids and parents from the clinic attended an Illini football game, and I got tired watching him run up and down the bleachers with the energy of a normal preschooler. Only his bald head gave him away, and from behind, I had a hard time telling him apart from my James.

We saw Tyler in clinic and at the hospital a few times after that. He always had a smile on his face. I remember him acting silly with the Child Life Specialist and playing with Thomas trains.

When we went to St. Louis for James' transplant. I kept up-to-date with Tyler through his web site. I knew that his condition was very serious, and there was likely no cure in his future. On January 28, 2004, Tyler died.

One would expect his parents to withdraw and grieve their loss privately. Instead, Tyler's mom has organized fundraisers for other families, visited sick kids in the hospital, participated in interviews with the media to
raise awareness for childhood cancer, and convinced her famous brother-in-law, Doug Wilson, to remodel Ronald McDonald Houses in Tyler's memory.

In one of the interviews Tyler's mom did, she told a reporter that her worst fear is that "people will forget" her son. Maybe she thought that since he didn't live a long life on earth, he didn't have time to meet a lot of
people and leave a lasting legacy. But I think that Tyler touched more lives in his five years than most of us will touch in a lifetime.

So, in memory of our beautiful friend, Tyler, and in honor of his brave parents, I would like to issue a challenge to our readers. On January 28, I would like everyone to do something in Tyler's memory. Donate blood. Sign up to be a bone marrow donor. Tutor a child at school. Donate a Thomas the Tank Engine to the Pediatrics department at a local hospital. Make a donation to CureSearch or Make-A-Wish. It doesn't have to be big, just do something.

Why would I pick the day of his death to honor his memory? I'm sure that Tyler's parents have beautiful memories of his birth and his birthdays. I want to give them something positive to focus on on the anniversary of his death. I want to let them know, on this day in particular, that even though Tyler is not here on the earth, that we will never forget him, and that he
continues to touch people's lives.

If you choose to take my challenge, please email me at batmom@hotmail.com. I would like to share your efforts with Tyler's parents.

What will you do to make a difference?


Indeed, what will you do?

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Thursday, January 19, 2006 - Cups, Everywhere Cups

Last week I asked you a question…and you blew me away! You answered in droves, and you answered with depth. And now I want to give back to you what you shared with me.



There will be a permanent link to this page above, so come back as much as you like!

Speaking of spilly-full cups and continuing on with “The Best of The Banana” Music Count Down (check out yesterday’s journal entry to get up to speed), the #5 Most Meaningful Song on my cancer journey is…

“Dancing Queen” by ABBA!

What does this song mean to me? It means that I’m a kid, I have cancer, and I got my sh*t together, that's what it means! What a tragedy it is for a child to have cancer, but what a miracle it is that a child has more instinct to cope than an adult who should by all rights “know better”. I have something growing in my body, I’m being treated with toxic poisons, and the most important thing in my life...is playing. We are never given burdens without blessings, and if you don’t know what your blessings are, maybe you aren’t dancing enough.

I played this song on February 24, 2004, the same day my grandma entered the hospital for the last time. This is what I wrote (hmm...more cups).


“This journal is supposed to be about me. It still is, but I swear it’s turning into a testament to the kindness of others. Every day, there is something new to be grateful for or someone different to be grateful to. Thank you Deanna for the wonderful meal that you shipped in from Brandon. Thank you Heather for the muffins that you snuck over to our house when we weren’t looking. Nonna, thank you for actually coming back even after my month on steroids. Thank you Nicholas for making dad mad tonight and taking the heat off of me.

Yes, the wonderful human spirit is alive, well and running amok in Winnipeg, Canada. One of the side effects of all this gratitude is that it gets a girl thinking. So at the risk of getting all philosophical on you, let me ask you this…how full is YOUR glass these days? Half empty? Half full? Leaking, almost empty and it’s the government’s fault? Let me tell you about my glass. I look into it and I see my reflection in the rippling water. I see a girl who is losing her hair and gained enough weight to make her short of breath. I see a girl who is supposed to be outside making snowmen and playing in preschool, but can’t because she’s neutropenic. I see a girl who is barely started in her sick blood treatment while everyone else diagnosed around the same time are poised to start their long term maintenance.

Yet that girl staring back at me in my reflection always seems to have a smile on her face…my glass isn’t half full, my cup runneth over! But why?? Why should a 3 year old girl who is having so much of her childhood stolen right from under her have any reason to be happy at all? It’s pretty simple, really. I’m 3 years old, I don’t know any “better.” I don’t know that I am supposed to be depressed, desparate or desolate. I don’t know how to do anything else BUT smile, play, eat pickles and love life! All these clinic trips and hospital stays, they’re just distractions, things that get in the way of serious playing. Yup, when you’re 3, la vita e bella, baby.

So to all you big people, you may be older than me, you may be smarter than me, but I don’t for a second think that you know “better” than me. Nope, you know “worse” than me! Because if you truly knew “better”, then why isn’t your cup overflowing too?

I’m 3 years old, I have cancer and I AM THE DANCING QUEEN!!! Go fill up your glass.”

Luv,
Julianna Banana




Wednesday, January 18, 2006 - Wonderfully Ordinary


Man, the more things change, the more things stay the same. Just look at this time last year compared to this year…

January 2005:
- The Indianapolis Colts got knocked out of Superbowl contention
- The Canadian political scene is more messed up than dad’s bed head
- I rocked the house down at the Lizzie McDuff, uh, I mean the Hilary Duff concert!

January 2006
- The Indianapolis Colts got knocked out of Superbowl contention
- The Canadian political scene is more messed up than dad’s taxes
- I rocked the house down at the Lizzie McDuff, uh, I mean the Hilary Duff concert!

That’s right, baby, you heard me…I ROCKED the house down at the Hizzie McDuire concert! I don’t have pictures to share with you because my parents are about as coordinated as your drunk uncle Bob driving home from the Christmas party, but I swear I was there!

It was a different experience compared to last year when I got the total rock star treatment thanks to a wonderfully thoughtful young woman named Emily and “Auntie Lou”. Last year in the luxury box, meeting Hilary and getting to personally put four pink wish bracelets that she wore for the whole show, and being looked after by the best two surrogate-big-sisters-for-the-day, well, I could not have scripted a better day!

This year I was just one of the 15,000 crazed pre-hormonal girls. Check that, 14,999…my mom/concert partner is definitely hormonal! Row 24 on the floor with a full head of hair, surrounded by all those shrieking girls and sharing the experience with the woman who in every sense of the word CARRIED me for the past 849 days since my life went from “ordinary” to “extraordinary”, well, I could not have scripted a better day! It was perfectly ordinary.

And being ordinary never felt so good.

Someone asked me a couple of weeks back what my favorite song was that I have put up on this site. That’s a tuffie, because every song meant different things to me at different times during this sick blood fight of mine. Some of you have the wrong impression about me, despite what you may think I am not some hottie music aficionado. Nope, I’m just a hottie. But the funny thing is that music means even more to me now than way back when I was just a punk-kid (ok, that’s my ghost writer / dad talking). Before “D-Day” (diagnosis), music was cool. Since D-Day, I am a total emotional slave to it! When a song that I’ve heard a gazillion times before comes on the radio, I don’t hear it these days, I LISTEN to it. I listen to the lyrics, I listen for the meaning as if it was poetry. Looking back at it now, I think music may have been a coping tool for me.

So what is my all-time favorite song played on this site? Seeing how American Idol kicked off it’s 152nd season tonight, I thought it would be fun and fitting to do a “Best of The Banana” Music Count Down! In each of the next 6 journal updates, I am going to play a different song that I shared with you here some time over the past two years that has particular meaning to me. Why six? Because I couldn’t choose just one…this chick was born to funk!

So without further adieu, the #6 Most Meaningful Song on my cancer journey is…

“Your Little Girl” by Courtney C. Patty

What does this song mean to me? Besides being simply a beautiful song, just close your eyes and listen to the story in it. Have you ever heard a more connecting song between a father and a daughter? Not to me or to the blubbering guy typing this for me. It is also holds even more personal meaning because I wasn’t the one who discovered it. This song was shared with me by one of you (thank you Andrea), and because of that, every time I hear the song it serves to remind me that I am not alone.

The wonderful singer, Courtney C. Patty, even contacted me when some anonymous stranger let her know that her song was playing here…are we all connected, or what?!


Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - The Tooth Fairy visited me again last night! Three bucks. Does the Tooth Fairy know about inflation?

Wednesday, January 11, 2006 - Trifecta!

If you’re not following along and reading all the great thoughts in my guestbook that came with yesterday’s entry, you’re really missing out…you guys ROCK! I just might have to make a special, permanent “What Do You See In Your Glass?” page just to share you all your wisdom with the world, so please feel free to keep your on your glass take coming! And for the record, there is no right answer, it’s just about where you are in your journey through life and how you feel about it (although if someone would have answered DD-cup, I might have passed out).

Get out your score cards and betting stubs. Pneumonia…check. Flu…check. And now, for the Trifecta, ear infection…check?!

Can you believe that? I ran the sickipoo-table in under a week! But the good news (and there always is some good news in this sloppy-full glass of mine) is that my counts looked good, I’m back on the chemo train, and I’m even feeling well enough to consider going to school in the morning. No word on poo-test results, though. Can’t say as I blame them, if I was a lab tech, messing around with those nasty samples would be the ones I’d take my dear sweet time getting to, too :-)

Luv,
Julianna Trifecta Banana




Tuesday, January 10, 2006 - I'm A C.) Cup

Indeed, how about getting off of these antibiotics! My white-coat-diagnosis was altered somewhat since last we talked, the word is now that I have a “touch” of pneumonia and the flu! No chemo, no school, just me and non-stop DVD’s. But just like that awesome Michael Buble crooner song that played in the background here, the fever is now long gone, and so is the sore tummy! I’m going to clinic today as a follow-up and undoubtedly to talk poop. I’ll keep you posted.

Me and my other personalities were having a discussion in my head about moods, coping, and just how temperamental and fragile a good, positive attitude can be in the face challenge and fear. It made me think back to something that I wrote waaay back on February 24, 2004, just two months in to my relapse protocol. I look back at that time practically with amazement at how unabashedly positive I was! I’ll always be proud of that, I’m pretty sure that attitude is what carried the day for me. But without question, the shear length of this sick blood fight of mine is whittling away at me like body blows in a prize fight. It’s not that I have a bad case of bad attitude, far from it, in fact! My cup still runneth over most of the time, but the chronic effects of beating your head against a wall can’t help but give you a headache eventually. These days, my glass is still very much more than half full and I am grateful for every wonderful drop in it.

But sometimes, I’m just too drained to take a sip.

The greatest pleasure that I get out of this website are the messages that you leave for me in my guestbook. I feel like I have a pretty good read on what many of you are all about from what you write! Born from my curiosity about you all, I have a survey for you. Right this minute, look deeply into your glass and tell me what you see…

a.) The glass is half empty.

b.) The glass is half full.

c.) My cup runneth over.

d.) The glass is half full, but there’s a straw in it and circumstance is sipping hard.

e.) The glass is bone dry and it’s the government’s fault.

f.) The glass is two times as big as it needs to be (that one is for all the engineers like my dad out there)

g.) Hey bartender, who’s ugly brother/sister do I have to kiss to get a refill over here?

h.) I’m on induction steroids…who drank half my pickle juice?!

i.) I lost my glass, you should be grateful for yours.

j.) Other??

Seriously, what’s your glass look like to you, I would love to hear! Feel free to respond to this incredibly important scientific survey in my guestbook, especially if you have your own answer for j.) Other.

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - So did you see Sarah, that chick who got that first rose on The Batchelor in Paris? Did you happen to notice that she was from right here in Winnipeg? And yes, we’re all hotties up here.

P.S.S. – My stinky brother did an impromptu stand-up comedy routine at lunch the other day…using a sliced pepperoni stick as a comedic-muppet. “So what’s the deal with broccoli? I mean, c’mon, it’s good for you but it makes you fart…what’s up with that?!” Then later that day, he said that he smelled something. I said “It’s you, you smell like a dirty old skunk!” We might have spent too much time with dad over the holidays.

Friday, January 6, 2006 - Fever!

Three cheers for the greatest unsung heros in the fight against all sick blood, The Lab Technician...

Hiphiphooray!
Hiphiphooray!
Hiphiphooray!

My dad came to that obvious revelation last night as he was scooping out stool samples from perhaps the nastiest dump ever witnessed by a 5 year old's bum. Those samples were refrigerated and will be hand delivered today with a bow and a smile to some unsuspecting Lab Technician who's only crime will be getting out of bed this morning to face yet another day in the relentless battle against cancer...and for her reward, she's going to get three cups of my poop! Yes, the Lab Tech will have to literally wade through my crap just to get to the bottom of this big fever that I have been running for the past two days.

If that doesn't scream unsung hero, I don't know what does.

I went on another midnight ER run Wednesday night, and the original concensus was that I had a "touch" of pneumonia, which if you ask me, is like being a "pinch" pregnant. My chest x-rays came back not looking too bad (then again, have I ever taken a bad picture? Even my lungs are photogenic!), most likely pneumonia-free, albiet with a little bit of fluid and a with one lung a "touch" collapsed. Luckily, I was allowed to come home and sleep in my own bed while the white coats try to get to the bottom of this.

So it's off to clinic this morning, looking like, feeling like, and literally holding, a bag of sh*t!

Luv,
Julianna The Burning Banana

P.S. - I came across a new (well, new to me) cancer support group the other day called Ryan's Retreat Cancer Support Foundation Inc., named in honor of a brave teenager from California who fought the good fight with rhabdomyasarcoma. It's not specifically a pediatric cancer group, it's for anyone involved in the battle. There are other online support groups out there, but what stands out about this one is just how active their online discussions are on their Yahoo Group! It's kind of like an online version of my mom on the phone...the discussion just keeps going and going. It's clear that this group is tight and has a chemistry together.



Wednesday, January 4, 2006 - An Auld Lang's Rhyme


My Theme Song for The New Year…may 2006 finally put sick blood behind me!
Feel free to sing with me, to the tune of Auld Lang Syne (yes I know, I changed the background music too soon)…


Should long term maintenance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should long term maintenance be forgot,
Cause baby, I’ve done my time!

CHORUS:
I’ve done my time, my dear,
I’ve paid with flesh and dime,
We’ll burn a cup of steroid crap,
And flush that yellow IV slime!


To dream of life without this fear,
Would that be such a crime?
But if sick blood knocks me down again,
I’ll just get back up and climb!

(CHORUS)

And surely ye'll have your good health,
And surely I'll have back mine,
We'll clink our cups to toast good life,
So top up my rum, coke and lime!

(CHORUS)

In just five years I’ve lived it all,
From despair to the sublime,
But world, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,
Cause baby, I’ve yet to hit my prime!

(CHORUS)

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Tuesday, January 3, 2006 - Fear and Fur

First and foremost, Happy New Year my friends! May 2006 bring each and every one of you all the happiness that you can handle. For you history buffs out there, the song "Auld Lang Syne" dates back to the 1700's, and was written by Dick Clark. The term "Auld Lang Syne" is actually a Gaelic saying which means "The Good Old Days", but it's verbatim English translation is "Seacrest out."


Since I brought up odds and statistics the other day, do you know what the odds of my parents having one child with leukemia (me) AND another with achromatopsia (my stinky brother)? About six hundred and sixty million to one. Six hundred and sixty MILLION to one. Do you have any idea just how freaking freaky that makes us? Statistically, there is one, maybe two other families just like us. Anywhere. On, like, EARTH! And I guarantee you that up until last week, we were the only leukemia/achromatopsia family with a one-eyed, depth perceptionally-challenged dad giving needles to a diabetic cat/pin cushion in the known universe.

But don't think of us as "numerically hooped", I prefer the term "statistical miracle"!

[Note to self: start buying lottery tickets]


Thank you all so much for the flood of support for me and my kitty Lulu, that was very kind and caring of you. I got a lot of smiles from listening to dad read me some of the guestbook stories about your special kitties!

I have to admit, I felt a little embarrassed and guilty at how much I let it get me down. Way back before I was ever diagnosed with sick blood, back when I found out that Lulu was diabetic, I knew that the day was coming that I would have to carry Lulu into a vet and be with her for her final moments…initiated by me. And at the time, that was pretty much my biggest fear in life.

It didn’t help that a few months later my grandma, who’s health was rapidly deteriorating, took me aside (ok, by “me” I mean my dad…this ghost writing thing can be very confusing without a score card) and asked me to be the one to “pull the plug” for her if and when that time came. Basically, she wanted me to be her advocate to help her die, which instantly became my new biggest fear in life.

Then, a few months after that, it was ME who got sick. All bets were off then, baby, there was (and is) no fear that was going to supplant even the most remote possibility of me not winning my sick blood battle. None. Nada. I have met families in the same crap-boat as me, and they are so calm. Their belief, perhaps their faith, is so strong that it’s like there is no need to be scared. That is a wonderful way to be and I am very happy for families who are capable of that, but truthfully, I could never make that same claim. I’m all about hope, I’m all about fight, and I’m all about making the conscious decision to never voluntarily hand over any power that cancer may try to hold over me. But the fear I fear will be with me forever.

So if you would have asked me at any time over the last two years and four months how much sympathy I would have had for people who were bereaved at losing their pets, I would hardly have been the poster child for compassion. Don’t mistake that for a lack of compassion, but as a kid with cancer and having a visually and stinkily impaired brother, well, I should and do know where my empathy priorities lie.

So being in the dumps about losing Lulu did surprise me, I wasn’t expecting that. How can I sit here feeling sorry for myself for losing a cat when there are good people out there reading this who have lost their own children?! There’s no comparison between the two, one is hurt, the other is complete and utter despair, and I don’t even want to give even a hint that I might think otherwise. But just as it is ok to grieve and laugh at the same time, I suppose that it’s ok to grieve the smaller things without feeling guilty about it. If you hurt, you hurt.

But I do have to say, it is nice to know that the past two years of fight haven’t hardened me up as much as I thought. I guess this hard boiled egg is still a little soft in the middle after all. Once again, thank you Lulu.


Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – My parents went to see “Walk The Line” with my Auntie Shawna and Uncle Tony over the holidays. Hey, when did Elle Woods marry Johnny Cash, and what did they do with Bruiser? Anyways, I swear, the sign above the concessions said “free refills”. So part way through the movie, my dad went to refill his pop (I’m not saying that the man is addicted to diet Coke, but he does get hand written Thank You cards from the president of Nutrisweet!). He asked if he could refill the drink that Auntie Shawna and Uncle Tony were drinking for them, and even though it was almost full, he took it to top it up for them. Then, walking out of the theatre, he had a brain-child, “I’ll just dump their drink and get them a completely fresh refill!” It was an ingenious plan…right up to the part where the cashier told him that the free refills were for popcorn, and he had to explain why he just poured their drink in the garbage.




Saturday, December 31, 2005 - Thank You Lulu


My very special kitty Lulu went to heaven today.

Lulu was 15 years old, and in a sense, she was my big “sister”. Dad bought her for mom back before they were married, to keep her company in her lonely bachelor apartment. And she has been a family fixture ever since.

Lulu got sick a few years ago. We found out that she had kitty diabetes, and she has had two insulin needles a day ever since. For months, I would help my dad give those needles to Lulu by petting her and keeping her calm while he injected her, and in the process, she taught me that needles don’t have to be all that scary. And as a three and a half year old girl who would go on to be diagnosed with sick blood, there aren’t many lessons more important than that. I always knew that my kitty was special, but who could have known that she would have such purpose.

I was told that Lulu would be going to kitty heaven while I was eating breakfast, and thankfully, I got my chance to hug her and to say goodbye. But I don’t think that I really understood just what was going to happen, because when I came home from clinic, Lulu was gone and I couldn’t find her. When nobody was looking, I snuck into the cabinet where we keep our pictures and pulled out all the pictures of Lulu that I could find. I asked if we could go buy a new kitty and call her Lulu, but after talking it through with Nicholas, I realized that it just wouldn’t be the same. Yes, I think I finally get it now. I don’t like it, but I get it.

My living rag doll. My friend. My little furry hero. My Lulu. I’m really going to miss her.

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Friday, December 30, 2005 - What Are The Odds?


My dad was looking at his old kindergarten class picture over the holidays. Back then, he was “tall”. He only stands 5’ 8” as an adult, but back in kindergarten, he was perhaps the second tallest in his class. In the picture, he stood in the back row along side the tallest boy in the class.

Looking at that picture, who would have thought that those two boys, my dad and the other tall boy, completely oblivious to even a hint of the hard realities that come with adulthood, would both go on to have children of their own with cancer.

Indeed, what were the odds of that? Less than one twentieth of one percent according to my bad math. But ask any pediatric cancer parent what they think about odds and statistics. Forgive me for this language, but odds mean shit to us! Honestly, the odds are crazy small, it should have never happened. But the statistics let us down.

To an actuarial, acute lymphoblastic leukemia is a pretty good cancer to have as far as your garden variety blood cancers go. It has an 80 to 85 percent event-free survival rate. If I was dealt a hand like that in a poker game, I’d go all in. But as you all know, the hand that I actually was dealt wasn’t in poker, it was dealt in life. And those great statistics, they are dynamic, they change as things goes down. Me, I’ve relapsed. And consequently, we never, and I mean NEVER, talk about statistics. We don’t deal in odds, we deal in hope.

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – This version of Auld Lang Syne is by Canada’s own Barenaked Ladies. My dad has seen U2 in a stadium concert from row 7 on the floor…and BNL is still THE best live act that he has ever seen, without exception. And by the way, their keyboardist won his own battle with sick blood just like mine in the late 90’s.

Friday, December 23, 2005 - Two And A Half More Sleeps!

It’s nearly 2 in the morning, and I am freshly back from attending the largest congregation of Manitobans in one place, ever! Bigger than the “Save The Jets” rally. Even bigger than when U2 or The Rolling Stones played the stadium. Of course, I am talking about the event that will forever be remembered as “Walmart Stayed Opened 24 Hours On The Busiest Shopping Day Of The Year” - Day. Just think, some day well into the future when my grandchildren ask me if there was ever a time when stores were smaller than 100,000 square feet, I will be able to tell them that I WAS THERE the day the big socio-experiment squashed any retail operation that couldn’t sell you McNuggets with your DVD player. And that I could actually hear the giant sucking sound from the cash register.

And now, a scripture reading from The Book of Walton:

And Samuel said unto the Bluevestians, “Thou shalt rue the day lest ye greet the masses with everyday low prices.”

Yes, I’m sure this is just what Jesus had in mind. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about the presents, baby! But as I stood in line for a half hour in the middle of the night, the only person in the store not pushing around a $99 20” TV I might add, waiting to pay my $2 for Christmas present labels, it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, my priorities are a little bass-ackwards.

But I digress!

My favorite time of year is just 2 and a half sleeps away, and me and my stinky brother are so stoked! It looks like I will off to Celebrate Christmas with all my relatives in Brandon a little earlier than I had originally thought. Consequently, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make the Caring Bridge rounds the way I would like to. So on behalf of my entire family, I would like to take this opportunity to wish each and every one of you the very best Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa or Sunday, whatever that this time of year means to you! May this holiday season bring you peace, love, health, happiness and every day low prices.

And now, as has become an online tradition for me, I would like to share with you my family’s Christmas Letter.

*****
The Josephson – Bertone CHRISTMAS



We did it! We exorcized our New Years family curse! For the first time since 2002, we brought in the new year without breaking any bones or getting majorly sick…three cheers for good Karma! As we look back on what turned in to a year to remember, we also look forward to even more of whatever life brings family and friends in the year to come. From our house to yours, we wish you a Happy Christmas, Hanukah and Kwanza, and all the happiness you can handle in 2006!


2005 in 2 words: Gratitude & Survival.
Julianna’s eventful year started off with a bang, thanks to the kindness of some wonderful people. A 15 year old girl named Emily won tickets to see Hilary Duff in concert, and knowing what a Lizzie McGuire fan that our Banana is, Emily chose to give her spare ticket to Julianna! When Louise, a long time Josephson Family friend, heard of Emily’s kindness, she put her own connections to the test and made it possible for Julianna to meet Hilary in person before the concert! Julianna put four pink wish bracelets on Hilary’s wrist…slooowly…one at a time, driving Hilary’s time conscious handlers nuts. Hilary wore the bracelets during the concert, and even for an interview the next day in Toronto, and we can now count her among the thousands of people who wear a pink wish bracelet in support of Julianna’s cancer fight.

This September, with us blubbering parents watching on, Julianna hopped on a school bus and went to her first day of Kindergarten. It was also the first time that we saw anyone in our family actually go to school under their own will, what a piece of Heaven that was! With 23 absences in these first three months, Julianna isn’t going to win any attendance awards, but it does make us all appreciate each day that she goes that much more. And if you can keep a secret, we think that she may have a tiny crush on someone! Great, five years old and hormones…and you think we’re grey now?

Julianna Banana, you have been bravely fighting cancer for over two years and you’re poised to finish treatment in April, what’s next? “I’m going to Disneyworld!” Thanks to the wonderful people at the Rainbow Society, Julianna is having her wish granted and the Canadian Clampetts are Florida-bound this April! What a fitting end to over two and a half years of meds, needles and hospital stays for our family’s ultimate Survivor. Please feel free to stop by and see how Julianna is doing in her treatment at www.caringbridge.org/canada/julianna.



Money money money mooonnneey!

Yes, The Nicholas sure does love his money. While we suspect that the seeds of this luv-affair may have been planted with the countless family bribes by aunties and uncles battling for his loyalty one loonie at a time, one thing has become crystal clear: The Nicholas is hooked The Ca$h.

Early this year, The Nicholas spotted a telescope, and decided that he simply had to have it. But there was one big hitch in his plan, his parents are tighter than Terry’s belt. To his credit, The Nicholas began saving, and eventually he actually saved enough…only to realize that if he actually bought the telescope, then he would have none of his precious money left. Oh the humanity! The new plan is to save up enough money for two telescopes, buy one, and then sprinkle the rest of his money on his bed and roll around in it. So hopefully by the time you read next year’s Christmas letter, The Nicholas will already be optically rocking. Or a millionaire. And in the meantime, he’ll continue to collect coins, stamps and all-things-currency.

A quick word association game, I say “The Josephson-Bertone Family” and you say…”athletics”, of course! Despite a genetic lineage that would cripple a tri-athlete, The Nicholas is happily enrolled in rock climbing, grudgingly enrolled in skating, and successfully enrolled in swimming. In fact, this has been a breakthrough year, with The Nicholas earning his “Seal”, and “Dolphin” badges! Next on his list of things that his parents can’t do is Karate. Why he wants to take Karate we’re not too sure, but just to be safe, we suggest that you hide your wallets and purses.



There lives a desperately desperate housewife here on Wisteria Lane, um, I mean on Strongberg Drive. Maybe it was working with Elaine for 10 years, nobody knows for sure, but in 2003, desperate Mary quit her job and went back to school. You know, with young people. After two years of juggling, cramming and stressing, she made it to the finish line and graduated as a dental hygienist, winning awards in the process.

Observant University staff saw in Mary what all of you reading this have known for years: that girl can talk! We have many phone bills to prove it. After negotiating a contract that pays by the word, Mary accepted a position with U of M promoting oral hygiene to at-risk people. Terry’s translation: she’s finally bringing home a cheque!

Mary fills in her 25-hour days with everything from cake decorating to power shopping, and yet she can still find time to be disgusted with Terry for lying unproductively on the couch.



Somewhere, out there, exists a tiny yet distant place. A place so remote that perhaps only a few people even know it exists. This place, as his friends have dubbed it, is known as “Terryland,” and if Terry isn’t talking or sleeping, that’s where he’ll be. He would like you to think that he’s just lost in deep, calculating thought, but you all know better…welcome to Terry’s dimensia.

When not in Terryland, he plugs away as an engineer with the local water and sewer utility. He also shows up at the rink for his hobby job as an off-ice official with the American Hockey League. He even goal judged a Brandon game earlier this month. Note to Wheaties fans: you’re all nuts!

You may recall that, once upon a time, Terry was taking classes on the side working towards a degree. He took off for work and for sanity, but set the wheels in motion to finish it off. Hopefully, by this time next year it will be behind him, and he will be on to other things. Perhaps writing, which has become his latest hobby. But whatever it is, you can bet that he’ll be lost in Terryland doing it.



Super Nanny, or in our case Super Nonna, continued to put her life on hold, spending most of her time putting up with the likes of us. We may have forgotten to tell Dora that she is free to come and go as she pleases...tell her and you’ll pay!



From the wilds of Winnipeg’s jungles lurks a predator. She’s white, fluffy and answers to the name Lulu. As the oldest of the 3 Josephson-Bertone kids, 14 year old Lulu was finally getting the respect that she deserves. That is, until Julianna discovered that our diabetic cat doesn’t weigh as much as she used to. Poor kitty, she’s become an unwilling rag doll and an invitee to many downstairs tea parties.



Much love from our house to yours,
Julianna Banana and Family

P.S. – You just KNEW that Dominic The Donkey was going to be playing here over the holidays. After all, I AM 51 percent Italian!





Tuesday, December 20, 2005 - Burning Bandwidth


PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM CK5 SPA NURSE GINETTE AND THE MANITOBA DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH, TOURISM AND BUTT-CHEAP BOOZE.

*****

I have a wonderful dilemma!

If it’s worth doing, it’s worth capturing on Kodak paper, don’t you agree? Life has been clicking by at an incredible pace lately, and fortunately, so has our digital camera. So here I am, sitting on this pile of awesome lifeshots, and I just have to share them with you, bandwidth be darned. If you are reading this, then I hope you enjoy these as much as I did, Happy DSL’ing and Cable’ing! If you AREN’T reading this, well what can I say, this is definitely not a dial-up site.

Did you ever watch that great episode of Friends where Ross and Monica did “The Routine?” Do you remember how goofy they looked?? At the risk of doing irreparable image damage to my stinky brother’s manhood, let me present to you “The Routine, A La Banana et Pickles!”


Do NOT tell Nicholas that pics from “The Routine” are up here, I will completely deny knowing you if you do.

All work and no play make Juli a dull girl…Wendy, I’m home!


It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas up here in Bananaland! And what would Christmas be at the Banana household without a tree, and without showing off how much weight we gained over past year. No, it’s not a total Charlie Brown Christmas tree, it’s dethawing. Dad chopped down the tree from some rugged woodland area that he called “Superstore”. That outdoorsy woodsman dad of mine, he’s all man.


And in keeping with tradition, I am on rodent duty, making sure that there are no squirrels or chipmunks living in the tree. So far, so good. By the way, did you know that the trick to keeping a real Christmas tree until February, other than closing the blinds so that you don’t get a fire hazard safety citation, is to put sugar in the water? Because I’m sweet, that’s my job too. Nicholas’ job is to keep the tree in stink.


The next step in Martha-izing our home for the holidays was to make and decorate a rocking, finger-licking gingerbread house. I read somewhere that the pilgrims used to buy their gingerbread houses pre-formed from Costco, too. Let me tell you, baby, when you make a gingerbread house THIS good, you just have to show off!


Well, that is until you realize that you’re a BOY, not a girl…


After a hard-working night of decorating for Christmas, it was time to hit the ‘nog hard. And there’s no better mug to go ‘noggin’ than one I decorated myself, too! (Cindy, that pic is for you!)


Ok, the house is in order, time to blast off to the CancerCare Manitoba Christmas Party to eat, dance (Stinky bro, up for the routine?) and get my picture taken with the big jolly fat man.


Wait, not my dad, the OTHER big jolly fat man! Santa my main man, where are you?

Look hard, you can see Santa trying hard to get some face time between me and Nicholas. Mrs. Clause, is in there too. And who are all those other kids with us, you ask? Those are The Mini Pops, who kindly took time to come and perform for us at the party! They also gave every family at the party a copy of their latest CD, which me and my stinky brother have been listening to covertly, practically around the clock, in our playhouse downstairs. I even snuck up on Nicholas the other day and overheard him singing to himself, “these boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do…” No wonder he’s working so hard on The Routine, the guy’s clearly in training to make a run for Canadian Idol! I guess nobody told him that he got mom’s singing genes.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Thank you very much to everyone who went from here to Ben Murphy's page and left messages of encouragement for Ben and his family, I'm sure they appreciated your support immensely.

Ben passed away last night after a cancer fight up there with the most challenging that you will ever come across. Three transplants...the dictionary should be re-written so that "courage" comes under the letter "B".

Luv,
Julianna Banana and family




Tuesday, December 13, 2005 - Twelve Days of Christmas Anxiety



Just 12 teeny tiny days until Christmas, which can only mean two things: 1.) only 10 more days before dad starts shopping, and 2.) it’s time to PAR-TAY! There’s the Big CancerCare Manitoba Christmas Party this Friday, and The Minipops will be singing for us. At least I’ll have a dance partner…counts willing, I’ll be hooked up to Mister Baxter, my IV pole. Then there’s my very first ever school Christmas concert next week! That one has me a little concerned. I’ve missed the last two weeks (!) of school due to being sick and having crappy counts, and I just don’t know the words to our songs like the other kids do! Don’t get me wrong, I’m a total rock star, but I might just have to improv it.


So there we were, opening a package that was delivered to our house…


[Cute Little Me] - OooOOOooo! Who sent this to us, daddy?

[My Old Man] - A boy who really likes John Deere tractors.

[Cute Little Me] - Where did that come from, daddy?

[My Old Man] - A place called South Carolina.

[Cute Little Me] - OooOOOooo! Is South Calina in China?

[My Old Man] - Well, no sweetie, it’s much closer. It’s right next door to where the baby finches live.

[Cute Little Me] - OooOOOooo! What language do they speak in South Calina?


To all my good friends in South Carolina,

Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. - P.S. – Cali Ali, the only person that I know who had a whole day named after her, has a friend who could really use some well wishes. Her friend’s name is Ben, and while he lives in California, Ben and his family are currently at St. Jude’s in Tennessee as he goes through his 3rd transplant for AML. His THIRD transplant…think about that. While I don’t know Ben personally, any friend of Ali’s is a friend of mine, and if you can find it possible to spare a few minutes to stop by his page and send a well-wish for Ben and his family, I’m sure they would really appreciate it! And so would I.



Wednesday, December 7, 2005 - Making Waves


Do you want to know want to know what it feels like for a mom to live through two years of fighting for her daughter’s life? How about in 10 easy lessons? Kendrie’s mom Kristie is counting down the last ten days of her daughter’s treatment with a new journal entry every day by reflecting on the lessons that she has learned through the experiences of their family’s cancer journey. If you are reading this sentence, then these last 10 days of treatment at the site of Georgia’s favourite peach, Kendrie, is a must-read for you!

As a charter member of the Kendrie – Julianna Mutual Admiration Society, I have to direct you Kendrie’s site for another reason. No, not just to point out how Kristie is posting pictures of Kendrie just to rub our collective noses in the fact that they have a decorated tree with wrapped presents under it, and I haven’t even started shopping yet. I would never do that, I’m not that petty. Nope, not me in my treeless, decorationless brown paper bag of a house…no bitter chick here...

Oh ferchrissakes, somebody throw me a freaking candy cane, will ya?!

Ok, maybe just an itty bit bitter, but the other reason is that she made a very kind and humbling complement to me in her “Nine Things” list yesterday. It came out of the blue to me, and it makes me reconsider just how connected we all really are and the influence that we actually have on one another. I wrote something a couple of years ago that Kristie feels helped her see that it’s ok to laugh while we cry through our cancer fights. But can I really take credit for that? I was taught that by watching my grandma fight the most gruesome and painful diabetes-related complications for years, all the while never missing an opportunity to laugh or to even poke fun at herself (Danielle, Auntie Tammy…pick a finger!). Where grandma’s strength of will to smile at all costs came from, you’d have to ask her in Heaven, but I can guarantee you this: it wasn’t just her, it was a cause set in motion long before her, manifested in her, and it will last for decades to come through the lives of descendents, and everyone that they touch.

When you drop a pebble in the calm waters of a pond, the impact and effects of that pebble do not disappear with the splash. Ripples and waves flow outward, as if to let the rest of the pond know that the pebble was here. How far the reach of that pebble travels is only limited to how big the pond is in which you choose to drop it.

Everything that you do, every connection that you make, is a another pebble thrown in a pond. My kindergarten teacher isn’t just teaching me how to print the letter “J”, and that’s the end of it. She is teaching me a foundation for learning and for expressing myself for the next eighty years! She is dropping a pebble in my pond, and the waves won’t just flow through me, but through everyone I touch. And everyone my future children touch. Inter-generational ripples of cause and effect.

The thing that makes life so interesting and mysterious is that you never know when, or from whom, that next wave of connection, purpose or inspiration will come! The person that you didn't look up to make eye contact with as you walked down the street the other day, that person might have turned out to be the most influential person in your life…had you just looked up. Heck, I wouldn’t be here today dictating to my dad if not for the chance encounter of my dad noticing his friend’s friend and stopping to talk to her as they walked down the street after watching “Revenge Of The Nerds II” almost two decades ago (ok, let’s get our stories straight…I’m telling my kids that they met coming out of “Chariots of Fire” or something a little more culturally sound…I will deny even knowing you if you say the Nerds movie). I’m pretty sure that when dad was in the theatre watching the cinemagraphic version of his college years, he wasn’t thinking, “man, when I walk out of this building, I’m going to say hello to my future wife, and we’re going to have a legally blind son and a daughter with cancer.” Trust me, he wasn’t…the peak of intellectual horsepower going through his mind at that time was how goofy Poindexter’s hair looked.

Yet here I am writing this. The very sentence that you are reading right now was a cause set in motion years before I was even born. A wave that flows through me, and by virtue of our chance connection, it now flows through you too. If this wave is big enough, maybe it will flow through you to those that you have connection with, who knows.

And that’s the point…who actually knows? Nobody. We don’t know for sure where your next big influence will come from. Heck, we don’t even recognize the waves when we’re bobbing like a buoy in them half the time. But we DO have the capacity within us to throw our own pebbles, and the choice to pick our ponds! You may never know where the waves that you create may flow, and I suspect that most of our waves reach shores that we never thought they could reach. But our interconnected world is a better place with choppy water.

Love, laugh, and make waves.

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – To Hunter’s mom, I appreciate what you wrote in my guestbook, particularly given what you have been going through as of late. You’re a a big wave!



Sunday, December 4, 2005 - Show Me The Money




Here I am last Saturday, Star Of The Day for Crestview Safeway’s Rainbow Society fundraising campaign kickoff! The Rainbow Society is Manitoba’s first wish-granting charity, and they are sending me to Disney World next spring when I’m done treatment. I could not be happier to be there to support these wonderful people! Little did I know what Kathy Lee Giffordesque activities they would have in store for me.

As soon as I showed up, I was warmly greeted by wonderful people who outfitted in the Rainbow Society team t-shirt, a tiara, magic wish wand and a feathery pink boa…



Apparently, the tiara, wand and boa weren’t freebies, so after a few introductions, pleasantries and pictures, they started working me like a Grand Canyon pack mule. First, Jim Rondeau (Manitoba Minister of Industry, Economic Development and Child Labor) and I cut the cake and serve it to the nice people. For the record, it is good etiquette to TIP your server, people! I saw some people put money into the box on the table beside the cake, but do you think a cute kindergartener child-laboring desserts could score some green?

Next, it was off to the cash register to do some grocery bagging…


A twelve of Pepsi lime…ya, I hope you enjoy your Caribbean rum and coke fix tonight, lady, did you happen to notice that I’m FIVE?! Please don’t show this picture to my chiropractor. And once again, I was shut out of the cash.

Then there was decorating the Christmas tree…



There’s two tidbits that I would like to point out in this picture. First, that’s me hanging an ornament on to a special Christmas tree just for people who donated to the Rainbow Society. The big people sure do seem to like my ornament-hanging technique, don’t they? They should, I’m a natural! And second, look a little closer at the top right corner of the picture. Do you see my brother Nicholas? Doesn’t he look like he’s having a great time?! This little exchange between Nicholas and dad at the big event pretty much sums up Mr. Attitude (true story).

[My Stinky Brother] – Hey Daaad, I know a word that starts with “b”

[My Unsuspecting Dad] – Oh ya, buddy, what’ that?

[My Stinky Brother] – BOOOOORRRRIIINNNGGGGG!

[My Patience-taxed Dad] – (icy stare of death)

I’m telling you, man, when we go to go to Disneyworld this spring, Nicholas will complain because Magic Mountain is too small. Truth of the matter is that Nicholas did enjoy himself, but he would never never nevernevernever do the incredibly uncool act of admitting it.

Finally, I was taken to the store manager’s office, where I got to announce to the whole store over the PA, “I’m going to Disney World thanks to the Rainbow Society!” Those of you who know me personally know that I’m a little on the shy side, so believe me, that was a capital-B Big Deal for me to do. But anything for The Rainbow Society.

When the afternoon was winding down, and my face was painted to hide the sweat beading down my face from unpaid labor, I had the opportunity to have my picture taken with the people who made this great day possible…



This is Grace, the Director of The Rainbow Society, and Andrea, the mastermind behind the day’s events (what a wonderful job, Andrea!). And I’m starting to get a little bit sleepy.

And finally, me and the guys…



From left to right, Cam, the Safeway store manager who went above and beyond to make the whole store and staff available for the big undertakings of the day. I should point out that this is not a one-day event for Safeway, but a campaign that is still running…so Winnipeggers, go buy your groceries at the Crestview Safeway and help support The Rainbow Society when you are there! Next is Steven Fletcher, the federal MP for Charleswood, St. James Assinniboia. Mr. Fletcher and my dad both graduated from the same geek, um, I mean engineering school (ERTW baby!). Next is Jim Rondeau, Manitoba MLA and Minister Of All Those Things I Mentioned Earlier. I just have to say that Jim was absolutely FANTASTIC to me! He literally took care of me and made me feel completely at ease, all the while attending to his political duties. Beside Jim, there’s me, still smiling because I haven’t figured out yet that I’m not getting a cheque for my work (in Canada, "cheque" means "check", and "check" is something that you do in a hockey game). And finally there’s my dad, trying unsuccessfully to suck in his gut.

Wonderful people, wonderful cause, wonderful cake…how could it have been anything but a wonderful day!

*****

On the rosey cheek front, I went to clinic on Tuesday, and the doctors concluded that I did in fact have Fifths Disease and that my counts were starting to tank. So much for school this week! At my very first parent-teacher interview this week, my teacher shared with my parents that despite all my absences that I’ve been racking up being sick all the time, I’m doing just fine in keeping up in school. What a relief that was, because if this week is any indication, there will be LOTS more absences to come!

I went back to clinic again on Friday for my regularly scheduled all day date ‘n’ dance with Mister Baxter (chemo by IV). Unfortunately, but not unexpected, my counts still licked and I am off chemo until they can bounce back up. However, there WAS an unexpected twist to all of this…a blood test came back indicating that I do NOT have Fifths Disease! What the, who the?? Now I AM confused…what was with my red cheeks, rashes and sick tummies this week? Where did they come from and why??

As my ghost writer typed most of this, I was actually in the emergency ward of the Children’s Hospital with a fever. Once again…what the, who the?! I am happy to tell you that just before 2:00 a.m., I came home from the hospital and I am now sleeping sound all cozy in my own bed. My counts have bounced back somewhat and, thankfully, I was NOT admitted for a two day stay at The CK5 Spa (not that I don’t luv ya, Spa Girls, but there’s no bed like my bed!).

It’s all weird, man. Not as weird as my brother, but weird none the less.

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - Visitor #800,000, reveal yourself in my guestbook!

Tuesday, November 29, 2005 - Taking The Fifth

Do you ever wonder what the heck that poor unsuspecting visitor who comes here for the very first time thinks when they hear the whacked out music that my dad picks out for me? Guns ‘N’ Roses?! Makes sense, I guess…if you drive a Camero and it’s 1986. My dad actually has a really bad Axle Rose impression, but it takes a Canadian beer or two to get it out of him. Between you and me, I think that’s just to distract folks from the fruitier song selections that made up his high school experience (hey, I’d like to see YOU go through high school in the mid-80’s and walk away from it with YOUR heterosexual man-image intact!).

I also have something of a confession to make. First, understand this: I am truly a blessed girl. Blessed blessed blessed! I am walking proof that the human spirit is alive and THRIVING, because I have been on the receiving end of so much kindness. There is no way that I will ever be able to come close to repaying all that kindness back to everyone that has shown it to me. And therein lies my confession…it doesn’t quite make sense to me why so many of you keep coming back! I’m something of an internet recluse who only intermittently pops her head up like a whack-a-mole, I’m terrible at writing people back, I can’t find the time to sign guestbooks like I should, and we’re so disorganized at home that we can’t even manage a thank you card out the mail. This has really bothered us for some time now, because as you know, our mantra is “if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t deserve it”. I know that my heart is filled with gratitude, but I have done a terrible job of expressing that gratitude to so many of those who have given me cause for gratitude in the first place.

That ends right here, right now. I can’t go back and make good on what I’ve missed like my new hero Earl Hickey, but I can start paying it forward. Just like the movie. Surely you’ve all heard that story of the guy walking down the beach who threw the starfish back in the ocean (moral of the story: man, you can skip those babies like rocks!). Well, it’s starfish time, and I’ve even thought through my first anonymous act of kindness!

I didn’t come up with this idea on my own, I’m not that smart. I have Angel Olivia’s mom to thank. She has been actively promoting a Random Acts of Kindness / Pay It Forward movement for some time now, and I think it is such a wonderful legacy for her Olivia that so much kindness is being passed around the world thanks to her spirit! As of today, I intend to be a part of that.

*****

These have been eventful days around my house, I have lots to share with you. I’m going to take it day-by-day…

FRIDAY:
Is anyone else’s parents using Supernanny to scare you into obedient submission?? (wait, I’m being told by my dad that it’s not a reckless threat, it’s a “parenting tool”). Me and my stinky brother were watching Spongebob, and out of the clear blue, Nicholas actually had the nerve to accidentally touch me! Well I wasn’t going to just let that stand, so long story short, we’re fighting. This was the end of a looooong day for dad, and he finally *snapped*! He pulled us apart, set us straight, changed the channel to Supernanny and took the remote with him. Sheer genius! And yes, we will get him back.

I also had another clinic date with Mister Baxter. For those of you keeping track, only 6 left to go before I am taking a bat to my IV pole! My counts were where they should be and everything looked fine.

SATURDAY
What a wonderful job by The Rainbow Society and Crestview Safeway with their kickoff to their fundraising campaign! And I sure was a busy chick! I smiled for pictures, I cut and served cake, I bagged groceries, I was followed around with a video camera, and I even made an announcement over the intercom! I have lots more to say about this, but I am going to hold off and do it another time…because my dumb dad forgot to bring his camera!!! Luckily, lots of people took lots of pictures, and when those pictures get forwarded on to us, I’ll share them with you.

SUNDAY
My family is officially in to the Christmas spirit. No, we still don’t have our lights up outside, that would have required too much forethought to do it before the big snow hit. But I did set up my very own two foot tall pink Christmas tree in my room! And I did it all by myself, too. Bring it, Santa, I’m ready!

Did my ears deceive me, or did I actually hear the Black Eyed Peas singing “my hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps” during the Grey Cup half time show?? Just another reason to luv Canada…we’re Klassy with a capital-K!

MONDAY
Yesterday morning started out great! I was up early, dressed myself and made my own bed all before 8am. Then out of nowhere, my tummy started to hurt. And not the fake kind that I pull to get out of picking up my toys, I’m talking really bad. I ended up staying home from school for the 16th time in the three months since I started Kindergarten. These sore tummies are becoming an all-too-frequent event, I fear that the cumulative effects of chemo are starting to catch up to me. It’s one thing to fight cancer, you have an enemy and you can throw all your anger and frustrations at it, but it’s another thing to have to fight the medicine that you need to live. Man, I can’t wait to take a bat to Mister Baxter!

By Oprah time (a.k.a. the North American time zone standardization), I started getting really itchy for some reason. Shortly after, I started turning splotchy-red all over my body, particularly on my face. The theory is that I may have contracted Fifth Disease, which in the world of the normal is not all that big of deal…but in the sick blood world it can really blow! So off to clinic for an unexpected visit this morning to get to the bottom of this. I hope it’s only Fifth Disease, I can’t count any higher.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. – From my guestbook…bundling up in your parka and walking through the knee-deep snow in January to 7-11…to get a Slurpee. Now THAT is Canadian-tough! (or it’s Canadian-dumb…tomato/tomAto) Thanks Kelli :-)

November 22, 2005 - A Two-Update, Bipolar Day

Tuesday, November 22, 2005 – Part 2: Canadian-Tough!


So just how cold is it here in the centre of the winterverse, you ask?? It’s thiiiis cold…



There’s “tough”, and then there’s “Canadian-tough”. When the temperature dips into the 50’s, do you know what us Canadians do to keep warm? We rub on another layer of suntan lotion…that’s Canadian-tough! When we pee, we have to snap it off when we’re done…that’s Canadian-tough! (if you have any other examples of “Canadian-tough”, please feel free to share them in my guestbook).

Yes, we literally went from zero to winter in 60 minutes last week. It’s that time of year when every Canadian checks the back of their passport to see if citizenship is mandatory, or if we are free to move south. We keep the young ones here to shovel the snow and stoke the fireplace, and we send our entire over-60 population down to Dade County with their federal-issue Speedos. It gives them a chance to tan parts of their bodies other than their forearms. Florida, that is our gift to you…please don’t feel that you need to repay us. Seriously, DON’T REPAY US!

The Rainbow Society invited me to be “The Star of the Day” at a fundraising kickoff to be held at the Safeway in St. James (the Unicity one) this Saturday afternoon! The Rainbow Society has been granting wishes to Manitoba children with life-threatening illnesses for 22 years, and I couldn’t be happier to help them out in any way that I can. They are also behind my upcoming wish trip to Disney World next April (don’t worry, Florida, mom would never evereverever let dad pack a Speedo!), and obviously we are very grateful for that! The Rainbow Society is also responsible for my first modeling gig…did you ever notice this picture a little higher up on this page before?



Speaking of big trips, look out South America, my Nonna is hopping a plane to Medoza, Argentina today! We have relatives that she hasn’t seen in an awfully long time down there, and she’s going to change that. Ciao Taddeo’s!

And the luckiest visitor to my site, visitor #777,777 who will be eternally blessed with good luck is…(drum roll please)…Patricia Manning of Antioch, California! I only know two things about Antioch. 1) it’s like a suburb of Oakland, and 2) it’s warmer than here, so I’m liking it there already! Pat, thank you for keeping me in your thoughts and always coming by to see how I am doing, I appreciate it. I truly appreciate it from all of you!

Friday was clinic day, and I had my first of four all-day chemo appointments. Which means, of course, that my dance card is full with Mister Baxter, my IV pole. For the historians out there, this is the second last IV chemo cycle for me, and I only have 7 more dates with Mister Baxter.

To my American buddies, Have a wonderful, turkeyful Thanksgiving! May you stuff yourself silly with food and gratitude.

Luv,
Julianna Banana




Tuesday, November 22, 2005 - Peyton Manning's Game Plan for Fighting Cancer


“In times like these, it helps to recall that there have always been times like these.”
- Paul Harvey


In my two plus years of fighting the big cancer monster, I have never experienced anything like this. So much hurt and so many setbacks to wonderful children, and in such a short period of time, I literally want to scream from the top of my lungs “what’s going on?”

What can I tell you about Jonathan Watson? It’s not that I was very close to him, but he was and always will be a Hero of mine. Jonathan fought off one of the most ruthless, unmerciful forms of cancer in neuroblastoma for eight years. E-I-G-H-T Y-E-A-R-S! Do you have any idea just how long that is? Eight years ago, Bill Clinton was eating peaches, the Titanic sank for a second time, and Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa were setting records and popping pills. Eight years is an eternity ago, and through that entire eternity, Jonathan fought and fought and fought.

Jonathan Watson finally found his peace this weekend. He was just ten years old. He leaves behind quite frankly one of the strongest, most courageous families that I have ever had the privilege of meeting. Jonathan also leaves behind a legacy of what the rest of us watching him can only aspire to in facing such unfairness. The word “hero” is an overused word in this day and age of idol worshiping for what I personally think are undeserving reasons. But Jonathan was a Hero with a capital H.

I’ve talked about what a life saver that the ALL-Kids email discussion group was for me when I first found out about my sick blood. Soon after I relapsed, I became more of a list lurker. I remember how much learning of relapses rattled my own confidence and rekindled my fears, and I didn’t want to burden others with that. I regret that today. I wish that I would have made more of an effort to contribute to what I personally feel is the single best support resource in the acute lymphoblastic leukemia world.

I still follow the Kids of ALL-Kids, in fact I never stopped. Heck, I couldn’t if I tried! We are connected by circumstance, and we are all emotionally invested in each other. To say the past two weeks have been difficult ones for our ALL-Kids extended family would be like saying that cancer is sort of crappy. Relapse scares for Keegan, Alexia, and now Libby and maybe Hunter?? Honestly, it’s just too much. “Relapse” is the scariest word in the pediatric parents’ dictionary. When your child’s oncologist says that one little word, life stops, confidence shatters, and terror takes over. To my fellow ALL-Kids extended family who are facing what I know is the most faith-shattering crisis of your lives, please know that there is life after the 7-letter “r” word. You will never see life the same as you did just a couple of weeks ago. But in just a matter of months as you start to transition out of the shock and fear that burdens you so right now, you will start to discover beauty in places you never expected. Right now, life feels like a precious commodity, but soon it will just be precious.

Someone on the ALL-Kids discussion list recently posted a link to an article which concluded that parents of pediatric cancer patients often exhibit signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. Now admittedly, all those big fancy words don’t mean didley to us five year olds, even one as astute as me. But I can tell you that my dad’s reaction to that was “Noooo SH*T!!!”…then his eyes turned red while he wrestled my cat Lulu to the ground with a bayonet (Now admittedly again, I don’t know actually what that last word of dad’s means, but I suspect that it has something to do with my diabetic cat’s litter box because he sure says it a lot when he’s cleaning it). I find it amazing that they even had to conduct a study to make that ground-breaking conclusion. Keegan, Alexia, Libby and Hunter’s families are literally going through trauma right now. Please try to find some time in your busy schedules to show them some of the wonderful support that you bless me with.

With all this hurt in our extended ALL-Kids family, I wanted to share with you something that I learned about perseverance. A warning to you thought, it’s a bad sports analogy (you have to consider the source…my ghost writer doesn’t know much other than sports, so I’m afraid the analogy well might be running a little dry). A few years back, the Indianapolis Colts were in Tampa Bay playing the Buccaneers. Check that, they were getting SCHPANKIED by the Bucs! (Colts and Bucs fans, you know exactly what game I’m talking about!). They were down by 3 touchdowns late in the 4th quarter against the strongest and most feared defence in the entire league. Fans were leaving the stadium, the announcers were already looking towards next week’s matchup. The game was already over and everybody knew it.

That is, everyone except the Indianapolis Colts. With 8 minutes left in the game, the Colts got the ball, and they took to the field with purpose. In football, when you’re three touchdowns down, you can’t win the game in just one play. And when you’re winning by three touchdowns, you defend hard against the big plays and give the opposition all the small plays they want. So when the Colts started to chip away at the Bucs defense, all that they had available to them were small plays. A few yards at a time. Small victory after small victory. No single play was big enough to steal a victory, but eight minutes and a miracle later, the Colts tied the game and went on to win it in overtime.

The Indianapolis Colts had NO BUSINESS winning that game! Yet they did. They won because they refused to believe that they would lose, and because they took what little was given to them and turned them into a string of small victories. They acted out the very definition of perseverance.

The Indianapolis Colts also acted out the very formula for making it through these God-forsaken cancer battles. 1.) Refuse to lose, 2.) take what you can when you can, 3.) the big victory is made of a stack of small victories, and 4.) persevere at all costs. I used to see the signs on children and give up on them before the score clock hit 0:00. Never again! I’ve seen too many walking, talking miracles to give up on a fellow warrior, to believe that it can’t be done.

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - I have a ton of other things to talk about, but I thought it wouldn't be appropriate to bring up the lighter things in this journal entry. Stay tuned, I might even update again later today.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005 - Mr. Smooooth

Feeling lucky? If you are visitor # 777,777, leave me a message in my guest book and let me know who you are!

A quick story for you from here in the centre of the winterverse. My stinky brother, who graduated from “Dolphin” to “Swimmer” in his swimming lessons last week, was at the YMCA with dad. The locker room was packed, but they managed to find a free locker. Dad pulls out the lock, and the conversation begins…

[My Stinky Brother, proudly and loudly] - I know the combination to the lock, Dad, it’s 1-2-3!

[The Old Man, whispering, but with purpose and shock in his eyes] - Nicholas!!!

…Five seconds later…

[My stinky Brother, even louder] - Uhhh…I MEAN 1-2-4! Yes, it’s 1-2-4!

Nice recovery, bro!

Luv,
Julianna Banana



Tuesday, November 15, 2005 - Winter Blows!


Oh the weather outside is frightful,
And the roads are all impassible,
We literally have no place to go,
Winter blows winter blows winter blows!

It doesn't show signs of stopping,
And the mercury's rapidly dropping,
The snot on my lips just froze,
Winter blows winter blows winter blows!

When we finally say goodnight,
How I'll hate going out in the storm,
But if you'll really hold me tight,
I might just make it alive home!

The fire is slowly dying,
And this shoveling makes me feel like crying,
Oh crap I can't feel my toes,
Winter blows winter blows winter blows!


Clearly, Frank Sinatra never lived here in Canada.


So very cold,
Julianna Banana



Friday, November 11, 2005 - Lest We Forget


On this day 87 years ago, the German goverment signed the Armistice, ending the hostilities of the First World War. Every November 11th since, most of the developed world makes a special effort to commemorate peace and remember the sacrifices of heroes that make peace possible. Most of you reading this know today as Veterans Day. Here in Canada, we call it Remembrance Day. But names don’t really matter, sentiments do.

Like my private mantra that I shared with you earlier this week says, if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t deserve it. I’m so far removed from the times and circumstances of war that it’s hard to even relate to the sacrifices. But I do know what it’s like to be just an ordinary person faced with extraordinary circumstances. At least on that level, I can connect with those who made it possible for me to be able to sit here at this computer and share some words with you. So I’m going to make sure that I deserve my freedom today, that I truly deserve my peace. You should too.

Someone mentioned in an email to me that my journal entries seem more reflective lately, and asked whether I was doing ok or not. That’s a good question, and I don’t really have a definitive answer. Don’t misunderstand me, I still get up and face the days with a smile and I still look for ways to laugh just like I always have. But I have definitely been in introspection mode lately (or as my mom calls it, “scattered”!). I’m talking the deep stuff, not unlike when I was first diagnosed. There’s a couple of reasons for it as far as I can tell. One reason is I’m feeling this fear creeping up on me as I get closer and closer to the end of treatment (I explain it in my last journal entry).

The other reason takes me back a couple of weeks ago when I decided to go check up on the family of a young boy from South Carolina who passed away from the same sick blood that I have not too long after I was diagnosed. His name was Alex Haigler. I came to learn of him through his Caring Bridge page just as he was undergoing his bone marrow transplant, and followed along over the weeks in sorrow as he faced challenge after challenge until he finally passed away. I never met the kid. Heck, the only picture that I’ve ever seen of him was Alex holding this big fish that he caught at the top of his Caring Bridge page. But my connection to him, just like the connection that I feel to so many of you, is strong.

I couldn’t find Alex’s page, it was gone.

I don’t know the Haigler family personally, so I will probably never see or hear anything of young Angel Alex again. This little boy who taught me exactly what I was up against, this little boy who I rooted for and cheered on from half way across the continent, this little boy who moved me so much…is gone. How wrong is that!! Cancer is MY war! This is MY battlefield! And Angels are my veterans. Their memories and all that they brought to this world should never be forgotten.

Today would have been Angel Tyler Wilson’s 7th birthday. Tracy, Paul, never fear that Tyler will be forgotten. He touched too many people. As did you. May today bring you more smiles than tears as you, your Rachel Sweetie and the rest of your family celebrate a life well lived and a boy so loved. Your Tyler is more than a memory to us, he is a war vet. He is a hero.

And so is Angel Cheyenne and Angel Maddie, who humbled me by wearing their pink wish bracelets with them to Heaven.

And so is Angel Marcus, who signed my guestbook on the day I wrote my very first journal entry.

And so is Angel Conor Silly Billy, who connected me to the wonderful support of those Bears and Bugs that would carry me when I least expected it. And who's passing touched so many that I read of it in my home town newspaper, over a thousand miles from where Conor lived.

And so is Angel Abbie, whose princess necklace I wear today.

And so is Angel Haley, who’s music plays on my stereo.

And so are all the Angel cancer veterans who fought the good fight and left us privileged for knowing them.

Lest we forget.


Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - My heart stopped when I opened my email inbox and saw a dozen emails with the same subject, “Keegan Relapsed!” Please keep Keegan in your thoughts, and take some time to show his wonderful family your support.

Sunday, November 6, 2005 - The Calm Before The Storm

I had an out-of-body experience the other day.

But first, I have to take you back to the night before. Like any and everyone who hangs around out in this extended leukemia internet circle of ours, I stopped by the page of Georgia’s favorite peach, Kendrie, to check up on her. There’s a slow-building excitement brewing in KendrieLand as she counts her down, day by day, to the END of her long sick blood treatment haul. I’ve always felt connected to Kendrie in that we are so close in age, we were diagnosed to close together, and I’ve always appreciated how her family knows how to find the lesson and the laugh in every lemon better than anyone I know. That Kendrie is just 6 tiny weeks away from being off treatment, well, I think that’s so exciting! And it gives me cause to daydream about what life will be like when I finish treatment in the not-too-distant future.

So I’m at this garage waiting for the mechanic to finish up, flipping through an 8 month old issue of Sports Illustrated (Breaking News: the Patriots won the Superbowl in Februady), and daring to daydream of life after treatment. Two young ladies who also happened to be waiting for a vehicle were talking (complaining) about the horrible, unbearable circumstances that they somehow have to find a way to dig deep and cope their way through. I’m talking the really, really big time life crises like how were they ever going to get to the bar to meet Matt if their ride couldn’t be fixed by tonight, and even if by the Grace of God they get there, what will Matt think of the one girl’s new hairdo anyways.

Oh, for life to be that simple again, how wonderful would that be! I could almost feel my consciousness lifting out of myself as me and Patriots quarterback Tom Brady fantasized about life after vincristine. Hearing other people, “normal” people to be specific, being normal makes me long to be normal, just like I was back when I was normal, too. And that’s when it hit me… I can barely even remember what “normal” feels like anymore! It’s been that long and I’ve been through that much.

My grandma lost her vision several years back. About a year before she passed away, she confessed to my dad that she could no longer remember what he looked like. Imagine, her own son! And she lost the ability to picture him in her new darkness, no matter how hard she tried to visualize. It’s not that she didn’t love him any less, it’s that life dealt her the ultimate paradigm shift, and she found herself forced to live in a new and different world. The visual cues, the links back to that “normal” world, time and circumstances slowly stole them from her. I think the same thing is happening to me, only instead of my ability to visualize pictures, I’m losing my ability to visualize “normal”.

I’ve lived three lives now. The oblivious, naïve and oh so beautiful Calm Before the Storm, the Terror of the Storm, and now, the Calm Within the Storm. My last scheduled chemo dose is next April, and God willing, the storm will have passed forever. Yet despite how I pretty much preach hope at all costs, I can’t bring myself to count down the days. The truth is…I’m scared! I was so emotionally burned when I relapsed that I now literally fear being OFF chemo more than I fear living on it. I desperately want to return to that calm before the storm, but I know that I can’t. I forget what it looks like now. What if treatment doesn’t get every last cancer cell, what will stop it from growing again without my chemo safety blanket? When will I be in the clear? Two years? Five years? Will I ever?

How I wish I had the presence of mind and awareness as to just how beautiful the calm before the storm actually was when I was living it! I have a saying, “if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t deserve it”. Clearly, I did not appreciate what I had in my life before cancer. Maybe I didn’t deserve it, who’s to say. But as sure as my cheeks are squeezy, do I ever appreciate it now! Two years later, several gray hairs wiser and armed with a million new reasons for gratitude, surely I deserve it now, right? RIGHT?!

But I can’t. It’s lost to me now, I can never again have that life, that calm. I can’t reacquire that little piece of Heaven called obliviousness. I can’t relearn naivety. So just as it was up to me to find a new “normal” in fighting cancer, I guess I better get busy finding a new calm. I need to integrate these new fears into peace.

Life sure did give me lemons alright, but for me, I don’t think making lemonade is my answer…we’re talking some big-ass nasty lemons that I won’t be able to shake anymore than a skunk can shake stink. Instead, I think I need to accept that I will always be scared of lemons, that the life before lemons won’t be coming back, and that I deserve some orange juice. With a couple ounces of vodka and a tiny umbrella.

I see a lot of screwdrivers in my future.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. – You may have noticed, but this page was down for most of the weekend. Thank you to the good folks at Caring Bridge for getting me back up and running so quickly!




Tuesday, November 1, 2005 - Trick Or Treat!


Happy belated Halloween, and welcome to my tribute to chocolate-induced juvenile diabetes! So what did I dress up as on Halloween, you ask? I actually had TWO chances to trick-or-treat! Three if you count my kindergarten open house.

The first one was CancerCare Manitoba’s amazing annual party, in which the whole building literally shuts down to hand out goodies to us cancer warrior trick-or-treaters as we parade through the complex, floor to floor, office to office, lab to lab. Five floors full of unsung heroes who show up to the grind, day in and day out, all working towards the common goal of saving our lives…and they all dress up and hand out candies for our parents to sneak out of our loot bags while we sleep (don’t think that I’m not on to you, mom!). How awesome is that? How awesome are they?!! Granted, I was a little nervous about what they were giving out at the prostrate ward, but everything came up chocolate roses. Check out that picture of me at the top of the page, that’s not my loot from last night, that’s all from clinic!

Then there was the real deal last night. To be honest, I didn’t even know if I was going to get to go out last night. I started coming down with some sort of cold Sunday night, complete with all the appropriate symptoms, mood swings and attitude. I managed about a half hour in my thermonuclear costume (see the pictures below, you’ll understand) before I asked to call it a night. I came home, got out of the sauna suit and handed out candy with my dad. My stinky brother, on the other hand, he pillaged like a Viking!

Pictures are great, but they never tell the whole story. So while I am happy to share this little Halloween picture diary with you, I’m going to take it a step further and explain the stories behind the pictures that you DON’T see.



What you see: Cute little me, dressed up as a ballerina to go trick-or-treating at the clinic Halloween party.
What you DON’T see: I out-grew my ballet slippers, and my ever-so-on-top-of-things parents figured it out the night before the party (considering that I can’t so much as blow my nose at clinic without someone measuring me to make sure that the chemo and radiation hasn’t slowed down my growth, I sure am growing…and I don’t mean in a steroid way!). So if you look close enough, you will see that I went as “Julianna, the Tap Dancing Ballerina.” It makes for a whole different Swan Lake experience.



What you see: A very spooky front reception desk at my clinic.
What you DON’T see: I could fill an album with pictures of all the decorations and spooky themes from the rest of CancerCare Manitoba. Our staff and volunteers absolutely ROCK!



What you see: Bananavision co-inventor Richard (right) and Mike (left), the guy who prepared my radiation plan, high on sugar (at least I hope it's sugar!), enjoying the parade of trick-or-treaters.
What you DON’T see: Mike is a bonafied celebrity in my corner of the world. By day, he is not-so-mild-mannered “Mike The Radiation Guy”, and by night he is can’t-shut-me-up-if-you-try “Plungerhead”, the Winnipeg Blue Bombers superfan! Yes, you heard me right, the brains behind my radiation therapy paints his whole head gold and wears a toilet plunger on his head! I bet they don’t give that kind of service down in Duke, St. Jude’s or the Mayo Clinic!



What you see: This is Jenny, one of my awesome clinic nurses.
What you DON’T see: Nobody told Jenny that there was going to be a Halloween party, she thought that it was Casual Friday.



What you see: Cute little ballerina me, armpit-deep in candy.
What you DON’T see: My hands, my arms or my face…I betcha that I didn’t come up for air for a good 10 minutes while I rifled through all that sweet loot!



What you see: Fast forward to last night, and see a rare Banana-dragon and a very stinky Harry Potter.
What you DON’T see: Every time mom asked me what I wanted to be on Halloween, I changed my mind. The Corpse Bride. A ballerina. A hula girl. The Corpse Bride. But the realities of trick-or-treating up here in the arctic while fighting off the sniffles made the decision for me. I could survive a blizzard in that dragon, and if my cheap parents don’t cough up some coin and buy me a new parka soon, I might have to.



What you see: Same costumes, two minutes later, ready to get some candy.
What you DON’T see: Check out Stewie Griffin on the pumpkin! What do you think Auntie Tammy, good enough to grace your stoop?



What you see: Same costumes, three anxious minutes later, really really ready to get some candy!
What you DON’T see: If you actually get to see this picture of me with my stinky brother and my glamorous Halloween-cool mom, consider yourself lucky! The picture is great, but Quality Control will have me yank it off of here when she sits down to check her email later tonight. I’d give it about an hour.



What you see: Exhausted and sugar’d-up, it’s my turn to hand out the treats.
What you DON’T see: The weather around here was GREAT by Manitoba standards, and the candy seekers came out in droves. In fact, we actually ran out of candy by 7pm. But nobody was leaving our house candyless on my watch! Without being asked, I immediately went scrounging through my own personal loot to give out to the trick-or-treaters…and my parents couldn’t be prouder (or cheaper).


Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. - Today’s Inspirational Words To Live By:

"You can't give up hope just because it's hopeless. You gotta hope even more, and cover your ears and go 'bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla!'”
- Philip J. Fry, Futurama

P.S.S. – Yes Diane, that is my favorite shirt!

Saturday, October 29, 2005 - I Want It Thata Way

I am in negotiations to contract out my web page music services to THE greatest musical act EVER! I just hope I can afford them.

Ladies, click on this, crank your speakers and get ready to throw your bras at the monitor, because you're gonna want it thata way!

Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. - I've never wanted a Houston Rockets jersey so bad.




Thursday, October 27, 2005 - Randomonium, Take II


[The Old Man] – So what did you do at school today?

[Cute Little Me] – We learned to limbo and I played with my friend Zachary.

[The Old Man] – Zachary? Is he your boyfriend?

[Cute But Confused Me] – Uuuuh, what’s a boyfriend?

[The Old Man] - It’s a friend who’s a boy. And you kiss him.

[Cute But Disgusted Me] – Eeeewwwwyuuuck!! He can kiss my butt maybe!

*****

A big Happy Birthday shout out to my cousin Danielle today! Eat (cake), drink (a non-alcoholic beverage), and be merry!

*****

So the other day me and my stinky brother came up with a BRILLIANT plan. It was the perfect Op, the kind of flawless coordination that you only see on E-Ring. I snuck downstairs to the computer and grabbed a piece of paper from the printer, while Nicholas copped some tape and a big thick marker. Then, putting his Grade 3 ejukashun to work, the Stinkster carefully printed “I AM A LIWSER!” in ginormous letters.

With the covert part of our mission was an unfettered success, I had to disregard every instinct in my very being, and (ugh!) cooperate with my brother. I “innocently” walked up to my dad…

[Cute, Innocent Little Me] – Ummm daaad? Daddy? Ummm, look over here.

[The Old Man] – What’s up, pup? (he’s got rhyming issues to work out with his therapist, know what I mean, jellybean?)

[Cute But Determined Me] – Ummm, no. Turn over here. No not that way, turn over here. Like this.

[The Old Man] – Why, what’s the deal, Rita McNeil?

[Cute But Getting Ticked Me] – No! Turn HERE!

*SLAP* Undercover Nick secures the paper to dad’s back.

[Cute But Jubilant Me] – Um, ok. Bye!

Score! Perfect plan, flawless execution, and my dad never noticed a thing. Nicholas and I spent the next five or ten minutes downstairs laughing and giggling over what might well be The Perfect Practical Joke. Eventually, we made our way back upstairs, returning to the scene of the crime for one more good laugh. And wouldn’t you know it, the sign was still there on my dad’s back! This was too good, I swear we almost peed our pants…and dad was completely oblivious!

Suddenly, Nicholas spotted something. He went over to my dad, who was minding his own business reading the newspaper, and started to read. “I…AM…A…COOL…DAD”

Busted!

*****

Are you looking for something different to send that special Season’s Greetings on this year? Give Cards That Matter a try! Each card was made in honor or memory of a young blood cancer war vet, and if you are a Caring Bridge junkie like I am, I bet you’ll recognize lots of names. And best of all, the proceeds from the cards will be donated to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. How’s that for win-win? Wonderful work, Cards Who Care ladies! I am particularly fond of the pretty blue sky and clouds card that comes in the variety pack ;-)



*****

Has your internet been running all slow ‘n’ pokey today? No, it’s not a virus or sun spots. The cyber world has been making a virtual rush to Texas today to welcome the most famous new addition, Baby Maggie Scott! What’s that? You don’t know who Baby Maggie is? Well that makes ONE of you! She is the new sister to Angel Allie Scott, the inspiration behind the Friends of Allie, and in large part, Heroes For Children. Congratulations Jenny and Andrew, you deserve your family happiness like no family before you!

I had October 31st in The Great Baby Maggie Sweepstakes, and seeing how Maggie’s birth was a planned induction, I’m bitter loser! The only way to make this fair is a do-over…double or nothing on the Scotts’ first son.

*****

Want to meet a cute little clinic buddy of mine? Her name is Madelaine, and if you sit the two of us down beside each other and look at the back of our heads right now, you can’t tell us apart! We’re racing to see who’s hair will touch their shoulders first.

*****

The best show on TV now is “My Name Is Earl”. Period! If there truly is any Karma in this world, Jason Lee and Ethan Suplee will be wearing a Pink Wish Bracelet one of these days!

*****

Whoowee, are we ever pumped about Halloween! My stinky brother wore his costume while we watched Martha Stewart: The Apprentice/Infomercial tonight. I’m not letting the cat out of the bag on our costumes, you’ll just have to come back and check out the pictures of us trick-or-treating at the bestest Halloween bash in Manitoba, the CancerCare Manitoba Halloween! Man, do these people rock!

Cathy, Jenny & Wanda, if I don’t see those special “hats” on your heads, I’m going to be very disappointed.

Luv,
Julianna Banana

P.S. - If you haven't read my update from Monday, keep reading! Trust me, it will be worth your while...




Monday, October 24, 2005 - To Hope or Not To Hope


I have lots to fill you in on, like Friday’s clinic, my weekend in Brandon, and how me and my co-conspirator (but stinky) brother made and secretly taped a “I AM A LIWSER” sign on my dad’s back, but you’ll have to come back later in the week for that. Today I have a real treat for you.

Kelsey King is a young woman with whom I have had the bad circumstance and good fortune of meeting at clinic. She is soft-spoken, well-read and aspires to be a published journalist. I think Kelsey was destined to be a true talent no matter what, but on top of her natural abilities, she possesses an insight into life that can only come through the kind of adversity that two years of staring down osteogenic sarcoma (bone cancer) can bring. I don’t know what the Devine plan will bring for Kelsey or for myself, but she is, and always will be, a true role model for a little kindergarten cancer fighter like me whether she realizes it or not.



"To Hope or Not to Hope"
By Kelsey King


To hope or not to hope, that is the question.

Is it nobler in the mind to have faith in a faithless world,

Or to fight back against a sea of disappointments

And have hope in nothing at all.

Trust and faith is what we sometimes lack,

For we do not wish to be vulnerable to the grief

Of a lost loved one, to the misery of a failure,

To the ache of a rejected love. Disappointments crush

Our hearts and take a piece with them once

They finally lift off. There is no comfort on Earth

For that terrible, deep pain that makes us no longer

Want to raise our heads or wish for anything out

Of this world. To lose hope is to lose faith in life,

To lose faith in life is perchance the desire to leave life.

Ay, there’s the rub! Not leave life physically, but for the life in our hearts, minds and souls to leave us.

Without hope we become cold

And mean, and find joy in nothing, but with hope we

Have a sense of purpose and with a sense a purpose

We have energy to live. We hope that the grief we feel

Today will be replaced by happiness tomorrow

And that’s what makes us get out of bed in the morning.

We hope the ugliness we see today will be beauty tomorrow,

And we hope the dark shadows will be washed away with sunlight.

For we realize it is better to act happy and hopeful,

Than to lose faith along with losing ourselves.



If you have loitered around here for any time at all, I think you already know what I think about what Kelsey wrote. But if you would like to tell Kelsey what you think of her soliloquy, please feel free to do so in my guestbook or email me directly and I will forward it on to her.


Luv,
Julianna Banana

Tuesday, October 18, 2005 - Can I Quote You On That?