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Sunday, January 27, 2013

What Early Menopause Feels Like


I keep this photo as a reminder.  I still feel like this girl.
Today I'm going to blog about Menopause.  It's a sensitive subject.

I decided to write about this after my appointment at the Cardiac Clinic last week.  I've put on a few extra pounds after Christmas.  Who hasn't right?  But I was shocked to see myself on camera.  They say the camera adds 10lbs.  It looked more like 20 to me.

Some days it's hard for me to accept the fact that my body is changing and that I will never be the same as I was when I was in my twenties.  Everyone reaching 40 goes through this.  I know I'm not old, but when I look at how quickly my body is changing, it makes me feel ancient.

I try to count my blessings.  I know that in the grand scheme of things I'm VERY fortunate.  I am grateful to be alive.  I am grateful to have relatively good health considering...

But today I just need to moan and whinge about all the ways my body has changed.  I hate being a complainer but I just need to vent about it all today.  I'm feeling sorry for myself.

When I was told I needed a radical hysterectomy at the age of 32, I looked for every book I could find on menopause so I would know what to expect.  They all said the same grim things - expect to gain weight, have hot flushes, deeper wrinkles, and have issues with your bella vagine.  Then there were the bigger issues - brittle bones, heart disease and forgetfulness.  There were many more symptoms but those are the main ones that I struggle with.

Still me, just softer.
It was pretty depressing and I stopped reading the books.  It won't happen to me.  I'm invincible.

But sadly here I am at the age of 38 and I am struggling with those issues.  I'm not as invincible as I thought I was - and it makes me want to cry.  I made the decision to deal with menopause naturally.  I don't take any hormones or supplements.  I believe the body will regulate itself if you allow it to.  That wasn't the case after surgery though.  The hot flushes hit me like a tonne of bricks.  I filled my prescription and was on HRT for two years before I decided that it wasn't good for me.

There's a lot of conflicting advice out there.  My team of cancer specialists in Canada were adamant that I do NOT take HRT due to my strong family history of breast cancer (and me having ovarian cancer already) and  our family history of stroke and heart attacks.  They said that as long as I ate well and exercised, I should be able to manage menopausal symptoms.

The advice from my doctors here in New Zealand was vastly different.  They said HRT was absolutely necessary because I am too young to be without hormones.  I am at risk of developing osteoporosis and heart disease.  According to them, a woman needs estrogen in her system to keep things healthy.

Who does one listen to??

Pre-menopause 2003 (10 years ago).  Flat tummy and no back fat.
I went with my gut and decided to listen to my own body.  I stopped the HRT in 2009.  The hot flushes took a while to sort themselves out.  I just dressed in layers and learned to deal with night sweats and insomnia.  Exercise certainly helped.  I have to work at keeping my weight down now.  I'm honestly not sure if it's just a normal part of life or if it's menopause.  I've always been super thin - too thin (if there's such a thing).  I used to wish I had bigger boobs and not such a flat bottom.  When I was in my late 20's I was a size 4 (American) or a size 6 (European).  I didn't exercise at the gym but I was always riding my bike and into dragonboat racing and I walked a lot.  I didn't have to do much to stay thin.  And boy could I eat!

10 years later and I'm about 10kgs heavier.  I carry my weight around my midsection and it's really hard to shift.  It feels like I'm in a fat suit and that this isn't my body at all.  They say that estrogen stores in fat cells, so as you age and your estrogen decreases, you naturally gain weight to balance out your hormones.  Technically the extra weight is my storehouse for estrogen which keeps me healthy.  I want to be healthy but I hate being "soft".  I'm more of an average size now.  I'd be a size 8 (American) or a size 10 (European).  I know that doesn't sound fat.  Two words... BACK FAT.  Where did THAT come from?  So now I have boobs (be careful what you wish for) but they are mostly just fat.  I went from being a 32B to a 34DD.  BACK FAT.  I have to reach around and pull all the fat from under my arms forward and they fill a DD cup!  Sexy huh?  Impressive cleavage but I know where it really comes from.  And who knew that you could get fat armpits or elbows?

I store my fat all in my upper body - around my face (double chin), arms, armpits, boobs, back, midrift and a little in my inner thighs.  Otherwise my hips, legs and bottom are pretty fat free.  They've filled out - which I'm happy about - but they aren't giggly.  So that's something to be thankful for.

Another thing that changes in menopause is sex.  This is where I'm at a disadvantage because I don't have a partner.  Being a single woman in menopause isn't easy.  If I'd had a loving partner who knew my body, I think it might be easier.  But my bella vagine has changed.  You lose elastin in your skin.  I'll surely never get a boyfriend after writing this. Those of you who know me are now trying to picture my vagine.  Sorry about that.  But this is important to mention.  One day you will all go through it.  And guys, one day your partner will go through it.  Pay attention.

A softer version of me.  
Foreplay is ESSENTIAL.  Lubrication isn't what it used to be.  Be patient guys and be prepared to work a little harder.  It's just as frustrating for her as it is for you, believe me.  Our greatest sex organ is our brain.  If you can get inside a woman's brain during sex then you are a rare breed of man.  A woman in menopause needs a man like that.   The walls of the vagine get thin, like tissue paper.  It's next to impossible not to tear.  I hear this would be less likely if I used estrogen cream down there... but since I'm not having sex presently I'm lazy about using it.  Not great if I have an opportunity though.  No more casual sex for this gal.

I'm lucky that's all that's changed I suppose.  I've read horror stories.  But as I said, our biggest sexual organ is our brain and I think that women can use menopause as an excuse to stop having sex, particularly if they didn't enjoy it when they had a healthy vagine.  It's a bit sad but hey, it's life.  If we all kept having sex like we were in our twenties we'd never get anything done right?

If I knew how much my body would change, would I have opted for the radical hysterectomy?  At the time I was so unwell.  My periods were so heavy that I was flooding maternity pads in an hour.  For the first two days of my period I didn't dare leave the house.  It wasn't uncommon to sit down and get up a few minutes later in a puddle of blood.  It was embarrassing.  Not to mention my low energy from my depleted iron levels.  That was the start of pre-menopause.  My weight began creeping up due to lack of energy.  Plus at that time I was on 4 blood pressure pills which wasn't helping.

Then I developed another ovarian dermoid cyst indicating that I needed help.  I had a few options.  I could have had a partial hysterectomy where they just removed my uterus and left part of the ovary which would mean I'd still get natural estrogen.  The risk with that option was the fact that I had a polycystic ovary and there was the possibility that I'd need another operation down the road to remove it.  We also suspected that it wasn't working properly anyway.  I decided to have the full radical procedure.  I didn't want to worry about it later on.  You don't mess around when you've had ovarian cancer once.

When you have a surgical procedure in New Zealand, they ask you if you'd like to take whatever parts you've had removed home with you.  It's a Maori tradition.  They believe that the soul is still in that part and they give it a proper burial.  I was intrigued.  I didn't want to take my uterus and ovary home but I asked if I could please see it after the surgery.  I needed closure.

As I was waking from the anesthesia, they brought it in to the recovery room to show me .  I was still groggy but through my blurred vision I saw that the uterus was enlarged with two fibroids.  The ovary had a large dermoid cyst on it about the size of an orange.  They were clearly unhealthy and needed to be removed.  I felt better about my decision.  That first week in hospital, I felt lighter and better than I had for years.  I was convinced my ovary was full of poison.  I was lucky to have had a normal menstrual cycle for 20 years but it was clear to me that the ovary had worked overtime and was sick.

Yep, you got it... 10 years ago...
This is where I have to be grateful for what I have.  I defied the odds by surviving Ovarian Cancer at the age of 10.  I had virtually no long term effects of the experimental chemotherapy drugs.  I grew up relatively normal and healthy.  The only evidence of my illness was a long 8 inch scar slicing down my belly from above the navel right down to my pubic bone.  I went through puberty like a normal young woman.

Okay so I was far from normal.

I couldn't have children but I believe my life wasn't meant for me to settle down and have a family.  I got to see the world and connect with so many people.  I  stayed youthful and never had to "grow up".  Growing up is over-rated.  I still see myself as a 24 year old.  The world is my oyster.

I was created with some of the good genes from my parents to keep me young looking.  I was a "late bloomer".  I was teased for being skinny and flat chested.  I got my physique from my dad who is a very lean man and my skin and hair from my mom who is in her mid 60's and still doesn't have grey hair and very few wrinkles.

Unfortunately I also got my blood pressure and the cancer genes from both parents.  This is why I wasn't meant to have children I believe.  I wouldn't want to pass those genes on.  It wouldn't be fair.

I realize that people REALLY struggle with weight and that even though I call myself  "fat", there are people out there worse off.  I just know what my body is supposed to look like.  I know how I used to be.  I'm not happy with the softness around my midsection.  I'm not prepared to just accept it and let it grow (because if I do nothing about it, it will).  I am going to work my tits off (literally).  I'm entitled to be neurotic sometimes, aren't I?

Ten years later and 10kgs heavier.
I've become THAT person.  The middle aged lady who tells thin people that I used to be thin too.  That lady used to annoy the crap out of me.  Ugh.

It's a tricky one.  Being too thin indicates not enough estrogen.  Being too fat around my belly is dangerous for blood pressure.  I'm aiming for being strong and fit and healthy.

Seems Kilimanjaro has come at a good time then.  Bring it!

Follow my transformation.  I bloody hate exercise.  Did I fail to mention that?  I've got to be prepared to make this a lifetime goal or to accept my soft "plush" body as it is.  Only time will tell.  For now I'm going to fight it!   I'm clearly not ready to become a woman yet.  People tell me I look good.  I know I can do better.  This is not for anyone but me.  

I'm delusional.  Now that I've written it all down I feel better.  I look at the photos and see myself differently.  I look good.  I'm not FAT.  But when I look down at my belly rolls hanging over my yoga pants I disagree.

We all have body dysmorphia in some way or another.  We see ourselves differently than others see us.  Sometimes we see ourselves negatively and sometimes positively.  This is why I like photos because you can choose the best photos of yourself and only look at those. But we have to look at our naked body every single day.  If I have to look at it, I want to be proud of what I see.

Be kind with your comments.  This is not some ditch attempt to get compliments.  I don't need them.  I won't believe you anyway.  But if you'd like to share how you feel about your body or getting older or if you're going through pre-menopause or early menopause then I want to hear from you.


















Saturday, January 19, 2013

My Farewell to Murray and Marjorie

I am very lucky to be able to treat so many different people of varying ages, ailments, backgrounds and reasons for coming in to see me for massage.  Mount Maunganui attracts athletes who train year round but it also attracts retirees who enjoy the warm climate.  As a result, I have a nice balance of young and old patients who come in for massage on a regular basis.  

This week I had to say good-bye to two outstanding clients - Murray Taylor and Marjorie Ewens who passed away.  They were both in their 80's.

Murray & Yvonne on their wedding day
I met Murray about a year ago when he started coming to see me for regular massages.  He would drive in from all the way past Pukehina for his weekly appointment.  Murray was a retired dairy farmer and kiwi fruit orchardist.  He lost his wife Yvonne to ovarian cancer 8 years ago.  He loved cars - especially Holdens.  His current car was a brand new Holden which he loved driving, so any excuse to go on long trips and he was away.  It got him out of the house.  

Murray had a sharp mind and we'd have great conversations about practically anything and everything.  He loved to chat.  If I closed my eyes, I'd think I was talking to someone my own age.  Murray was timeless.  It takes a very special type of person to live to the age of 82 and not have any judgment or opinions of others.  He was an incredible man.  The sad thing was that Murray's body was starting to fail him.  His legs were giving out on him and gradually his lungs started to pack up too.
Young Murray

Eventually Murray could no longer come in to see me.  I missed him so much that I decided to go out to see him.  He tried to talk me out of it, thinking it was too far for me to drive.  I insisted and told him that I was in the area anyway.  His lungs got worse and he was in and out of hospital with pneumonia.  Gradually the massages stopped because he was too out of breath but I continued to visit him, bringing homemade pumpkin soup.  We'd chat for hours and I'd make us cups of tea and Murray always had cake.  I enjoyed our visits.  His house reminded me of my grandparents.  Yvonne had great taste in decorating and Murray kept the place just how she liked it (apart from the mess on the dining table - he said if she was alive he'd get told off).  

When Murray was up for it, we'd go down to the Funky Lizard for lunch, just to get him out.  I know it filled him with pride taking me there.  He liked to show me off and he talked about me with everyone.  It made me feel so special knowing that I brought him so much joy.  I thought so highly of him too.  Murray was a gentleman.  There are so few of them left.  Why aren't there more men like him in my generation?  We had  a special friendship, in many ways we looked after each other.  Murray was generous and he would do anything for anyone.  He had a penchant for taking in strays.  He would tell me stories of all the young travelers he would help.  It gave him such joy to save the day for someone who needed rescuing.  I told him that I'd look after him if it came down to it.  He didn't want to go into a rest home.

Lunch at the Funky Lizard
I saw Murray less than a week before he died.  I sat with him and we talked but he didn't have any energy to get out that day.  I made us a cuppa tea and we talked about Yvonne and her housekeeping.  I talked about my trip to Kilimanjaro.  Murray would laugh but he was so impressed with the things I've done in my life.  He was absolutely fascinated when I told him I went diving down to the Rainbow Warrior.  He couldn't believe it.  He said his one regret was that he and Yvonne chose to work so hard and they didn't travel.  He wished they'd gone to Rarotonga.  He loved hearing about my travels.

Murray passed away last week at the age of 82.  He is with his beloved Yvonne again.  I went to the funeral which was packed to the rafters.  There were over 400 people there.  Showing just how loved he was by many.  I will miss our weekly visits.  I hope there's a V8 in heaven waiting for you to drive it Murray.

And less than a week later another client of mine, Marjorie died.  She was just short of her 89th birthday.  Marjorie was about 4'4" but what she lacked in height she made up for in personality.  She was a spitfire.  Aptly named too because her late husband Tony loved spitfires.  They immigrated from England after the war.  Marjorie met Tony at the garage where she would often take her motorbike which had a habit of breaking down at the worst of times.  

Young Marjorie in the WRENS
Marjorie enjoyed her weekly massages.  She eagerly hopped up on the table and she was very agile and fit for her age.  She ran half marathons into her 60's.  Sadly for Marjorie, it was her mind that was going.  She was convinced that a man was breaking into her house and moving her things.  All you could do was sympathize with her.  When she had her massage, she would forget her worries and the stimulating touch would trigger happy memories of the days when she was a WREN in the war.  Oh the stories I heard.  Her long term memory was incredible.  

But gradually it became harder and harder to get her to keep her appointments.  I would turn up and she'd forgotten I was coming.  Or sometimes I'd turn up and she'd simply tell me she wasn't up for it that day.  It was sad because I knew how good it was for her to have her massage.  Sometimes I could convince her to have a cuppa tea instead and I'd come in for a chat.

Last week she fell whilst hanging washing in the garden and broke her hip.  She had surgery and came out if it but while she was recovering, she died suddenly in her sleep.  She just stopped breathing.  The best way.

At her funeral today they played Frank Sinatra's song "I did it my way".  That sums up Marjorie to a T.  She was feisty and she knew just what she wanted.  There was no way she was going to end up in a rest home - which is what would have happened if she recovered.  She joined her beloved Tony who passed away just over a year ago.  They were married 61 years.  

I get so much out of working with such interesting people.  Both Murray and Marjorie were full of life and they lived their days right up to the very end.  I will miss them dearly.  But they had such rich lives, it's impossible to feel sad when I think of them.  They both bring a joyous smile to my face.  I can only hope that if I lose my mind I will be as spritely and physically healthy as Marjorie or if I lose my bodily functions that I am as sharp and connected to people as Murray.  Either way I hope I am still having massages too.  Preferably by someone who takes the time to know me and visits me even when I can't get on the table but stops to make me a cuppa tea and stays to chat anyway.

Rest in peace my friends.  Age is just a number remember.  You taught me that.

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

Climbing Kilimanjaro for Ovarian Cancer

It has been nearly 9 years since my last check up at Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto with my cancer specialists.  As I was part of an ongoing life long follow up, I decided I should find out if anyone is looking for me.  Being part of a clinical trial in 1985, it is important to track the long term effects of chemotherapy and how they affect someone throughout their life.  Read my story here.

They were advertising a study on ovarian cancer and fertility through the University of Toronto.  I got in touch with them but I didn't qualify as they were looking for patients who had received treatment after 2000.  They put me in touch with Ovarian Cancer Canada

Mount Maunganui
I sent an email, sharing my story and was contacted a few days later.  They were happy to hear from me and asked if I would be interested in joining them on their upcoming Expedition of Hope - to Mount Kilimanjaro September 2013.  Before I had time to think about it, I said YES! 

This is right up my alley.  

So where is Mount Kilimanjaro?  That was my first question.  My second question was, "How high is this Mountain?" 

I live in Mount Maunganui and I've climbed that numerous times. I've hiked high in the Swiss Alps.  I did the Tongariro Alpine Crossing last year too.  That was hard, but we did it in 5 1/2 hours.  How hard can Kilimanjaro be?

Mount Maunganui is an extinct volcano and it is 232 meters (761 feet) above sea level.

The Tongariro Alpine Crossing is a 19.4km trek which passes over the active volcanic terrain of Mount Tongariro.  It is 1,886 metres (6,188 feet) above sea level.

Reaching the summit of Mount Tongariro.  
Emerald Lakes at the Summit of Mount Tongariro.  
Mount Kilimanjaro is actually 3 volcanos in Tanzania (two are extinct and the largest one is dormant).  It is the highest mountain in Africa and the highest free standing mountain in the world at 5,895 metres  (19,341 feet).  GULP.  

Did I fail to mention that I don't really "like" climbing mountains?  I'd really much rather do yoga thank you very much.

I started to read about Kilimanjaro but the more I read, the more freaked out I got.  So I started to devise a plan.

I strongly believe that when things present themselves like this, you are meant to do them.  Feel the fear and do it anyway.  That is my motto.  

I began talking to people and telling them what I was intending to do.  I got a variety of reactions - everything from instant excitement and encouragement to terror and worry for my well being.  Some thought I was crazy but most think this is a very Tracy Pepper thing to do.  I will do it.  

My favourite reaction was from a client of mine who's first response was, "Wow, you are going to have a great ass!"  

I'm a problem solver.  The first thing I do when I have a project to tackle is  to write a list of what I need to do to achieve my goal.  Then I brainstorm ideas.  My mind ticks over and I come up with a zillion ideas.  

In order to join the Expedition of Hope I will need to raise at least $2,500 for Ovarian Cancer Canada.  Then there is the cost of flights and of the 6 day trek which will be approximately $8,000CAD.  Add on top of that the cost of my flights to Canada so I can fly with the group (and visit my family).  I need to raise at least $11,000CAD.  That isn't including the costs of equipment or of lost earnings from time off work.

I will have to do some fundraising.  

Then I came up with an idea.  Why not do a documentary about this journey?  It is a journey of hope.  The world needs more hope.

I contacted my friend Nicola Reilly who owns Foreverfit - an online gym that promotes the idea of healthy living through simple, basic eating plans and exercise routines that you can do just about anywhere.  Nicola and I filmed a series of yoga videos together last year.  She'd be the perfect person to help whip me into shape and film the process.  Lucky for me, she was keen to jump on board.

But there is still a lot more that needs to be done.  So I contacted my good friend from childhood, another Valley Girl, Michelle Murray who is a media mogul.  She ran the marketing campaign for Keep A Breast for a number of years plus she helped to organize the Pemberton Music Festival in British Columbia.  She is multi-talented.  She's a blogger and and amazing chef and person in her own right.  I wondered whether she might be able to squeeze in some time to help out an old friend.  She was honoured I asked.  

I've been in touch with the Gynecological Cancer Foundation here in New Zealand to see if they might help.  They were keen to get involved.  

I will get in touch with CanTeen New Zealand and Camp Oochigeas as well.  

I have dozens of friends who want to help.  I am going to need lots of it, even if it's just in the form of support and trekking buddies.  My friend Jo is going to do some of the tough workouts with me (we did boot camp together in 2010).  I am going to meet with an Exercise Physiologist to make sure my heart is going to withstand the endurance and the altitude.

Altitude is my biggest worry.  People die from altitude sickness.  Some people don't get to finish Kilimanjaro due to altitude issues.  I don't want to get that far and have to turn back.  I want to be prepared.
Swiss Alps with Mont Blanc in the background

So now that my team is coming together, it's time to make the commitment and to fully announce that I will be joining Ovarian Cancer Canada on their Expedition of Hope to Mount Kilimanjaro 

The expedition will be lead by a man by the name of Macon Dunnagan.  He is an American who lost his Canadian wife to ovarian cancer in 2007.  Macon summits Kilimanjaro every September in her honour. This will be his 30th climb.   You can watch his video invitation to join him in September 2013 by clicking here.

I'd like to raise enough money so that I can attend the Love Her events happening around Canada.  An evening of fashion, comedy, cocktails, auction and music.  The first one is on February 28th in Toronto.  I'll need to raise about $5000 to attend each event.  There are three of them.  It's a long shot, but if I don't try then I'll never know.  That would give me a chance to go into Head Office and meet the team who are making this possible.  

My goal is to raise as much money as possible to support the charities that do so much to look after the ones who need them most.  The greatest portion will go to Ovarian Cancer Canada for putting together the expedition in the first place.  I would also like to donate proceeds to the charities that are very near and dear to my own heart and soul.

Climbing Kilimanjaro is the perfect ending to my story.  It's the ultimate metaphor for someone who has been told they have cancer.  It's that massive mountain that you've been told you are going to have to climb.  It seems impossible.  It's terrifying.  It's going to require a lot of hard work.  You will need a team of people to support you on the journey.  But in the end, you know that you will climb it.  All you can do is take it one step at a time.  There's no point worrying about altitude sickness or whether you can make it to the top.  You will just do the best you can.  You won't let Kilimanjaro get in the way of whatever is beyond it.  This journey is going to test your will and your determination.  You will have moments you don't think you can take another step.  It's amazing what you can achieve when you put your mind to it.


Tongariro Alpine Crossing

So the journey begins.  I hope you're watching.  This is going to be a very interesting year.