Heather is very special lady, strong and courageous. Heather’s husband, Cameron, contacted me and asked if I would post information about the Mesothelioma Awareness Day that they put together with the help of Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance. Heather and Cameron are trying to get 7200 voices talking and sharing about this rare cancer to represent the 7200 hours that the average mesothelioma patient has to live. They are not asking for time or money, they are asking for your voice. Please share this on your blog or facebook page and be one of the 7200 voices to get people talking about this horrible, rare and little known cancer.
Please go to: mesothelioma awareness for more information.
Heather’s blog: mesothelioma.com
Cameron’s blog: mesothelioma.com cameron
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”
― Oscar Wilde
It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a blog about my hockey team. As most of you know I play hockey once a week with a women’s league. I started last September, never played hockey before and the last time I skated probably was when I was 10 years old. It was a challenge and pretty intimidating at first. My husband and children talked me into playing and at first I thought I needed to have my head read as I have enough to do with the boys and their hockey. For some unknown reason I accepted the challenge, I think it might have something to do with the fact that as little girl I wanted to play a sport, not any sport in particular, just wanted to be part of a team. Never happened, too many things going on in my parents’ life. My husband kept telling me that once I got the skills out of the way, like skating without falling down, puck handling and passing, he figured I’d be a decent hockey player. Last year I spent most of the year trying to not get killed on the ice, being in the right position and hearing the whistle when I was off side! Being severely hearing impaired it’s pretty tough to do. This is the part of my personality that I think my husband understood when he said I could be a decent hockey player. After I got over the initial couple of games and feeling completely out of my league,the battle started. Ever since I can remember when life presents a challenge and my first reaction is to back away, something inside me snaps and I go to battle. The earliest recollection of the “battle and never let them see you sweat” thing happened, I think I was between the age of 7 or 8 years old. I say this because my parents separated and divorced when I was 8 and at the time of this memory my father was still living with us. There was this kid on my block and I still remember his name – Allan. Red haired freckle faced little bastard, he constantly said mean things to me, told me how ugly I was, made fun of me in front of the kids on a daily basis. Even though he scared me, anger overcame my fear and I would usually come up with some kind of comeback. This was the never let them see you sweat thinking. One day he got physical and it took me by surprise. I just got away from him and went home. Funny thing back then, I never thought to tell my parents. That night I went to bed and that’s when the battle syndrome started, I went over in my head what I could of done, what I should of done and imagined that he hit me and how I handled it. I played this in my mind until I once again met Allan on the battlefield. Like usual I ignored him but he couldn’t just be a nice kid and play, he started the name calling again and then he hit me. I don’t even remember what went down, I just remember standing there with my hands balled into a fist and he was running screaming for his mother. A good soldier doesn’t wait for the enemy to re-group, so off I went… His mother showed up at our house and it turned out my father knew everything and saw from our living room window the whole show of Allan hitting me and me standing up for myself. He essentially told Allan’s mother what he thought of her and her son and told her to get off his property. He closed the door and told me he was proud of me for standing up for myself and he didn’t think I’d have any more problems with Allan. I often wonder if Allan got the better of me if my father would of intervened or let me learn my lesson!
MOMWHEARINGLOSS 