Uncategorized – slightly weird

26th October 2026

The Tollkeepers Cottage

Sunday, 25 October, 2026

I’ve been taking so many photos, and it can be hard to decide which ones to share. To show all of them along with my thoughts would mean a lot of blog posts. My blog host people tell me that I need more storage — my blogs are photo-heavy. I’m working on it but need to win the lottery.

Last weekend I met my niece at the Tollkeepers Cottage. I’d been trying to visit for quite some time, and finally I found a date that worked. The cottage is on Davenport Road, a street not too far from where I live, a street that always seems almost suburban. Davenport Road is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, roads in the vicinity of Toronto, with a history dating back to the time when the great ice sheets were melting. It was used as an ancient footpath by Indigenous people as an overland route from Montreal to Niagara. It then became an important trail for French fur traders in the 1600s, and for the first European settlers who arrived in the area in the 1790s, and was slowly converted into a built road during the 1800s. At that time, the roads were just muddy trails (Toronto was called Muddy York), waterlogged after rain and slippery in the winter. The tollgates were a way to improve the roads by collecting money to fund these efforts. Outside the cottage, beside the ramp, were examples of two styles of roads — log and plank.

On the left, examples of the log and the plank style road surfaces over the early years of Davenport Road

Because of its style, this tollhouse (Tollgate #3) probably dates from about 1832. It was built from what we think was just one white pine tree felled nearby and constructed in very rare vertical plank construction (no framing), held in place by bottom and top sills (huge beams). The cottage stopped collecting tolls with the abolition of the tolling system in 1895 and then lay idle. Originally, it sat on the land on the southeast corner of Davenport Road and Bathurst Street. It’s the oldest tollkeeper’s house surviving anywhere in Canada open to the public and among the oldest still standing.

The cottage sits in a wooded park at the North-west side of Davenport at Bathurst

Tollkeepers Cottage original window with a small table beneath, where tolls were collected. A tollgate sits on the grounds

Once inside, there was a land acknowledgement (very common in Toronto, at least), then a large room with a craft table and volunteers helping visitors with crochet, mending, and knitting. Over beside the small gift sales area was a lady who was spinning wool. The atmosphere was friendly. There was a kitchenette area in the main room, and a toilet at the front of the cottage. They made me a cup of tea – no milk today, they told me apologetically. I chose to knit a chicken and chatted with the people at the people. I’d leave my tour-visit until my niece could get there. They were having a meeting after visiting hours ended, and one of the visitors’ husbands arrived with Halloween snacks of crackers and candy. There was a nice, inclusive atmosphere. I felt comfortable and decided it was a good idea to come back to do more in November if I can.

Land acknowledgement and memorium photos

I wanted to make a chicken like this example, but mine was a monster (larger and not as cute)

The cottage was moved and transformed several times in the 150 years since it closed. It was discovered in 1991, not too far away, when land nearby was being redeveloped. Fortunately, a neighbour knew what it was and the developer sold it for $1 and delayed the construction until it could be removed. The Community History Project, which still runs it with the help of volunteers, kept it in a transport yard while they and the Toronto Historical Board raised funds to restore it.

The original plans and records were lost in a fire in 1881, so they needed to find craftspeople who could determine how to restore it. Finally, in July 2002, a house mover transported the cottage to its present location, and the restoration began. This included removing all the 20th-century fixtures that had been added, finding period-appropriate stones for the foundation floor, making bricks and mortar as it would have been made in the 1830s, hand-splitting and shaping cedar shakes for the roof and creating plaster walls and laths for the interior. The original floorboards were numbered, removed and hand washed, and woodwork from the door and windows was removed and re-installed.

They obviously went to great lengths to restore the building to its 1861 appearance, that year being chosen because most of the found furnishings and items belonged to the Bulman family who were living there then. Bulman descendants were able to provide artefacts to add to the authenticity. The City of Toronto designated the Tollkeeper’s Cottage a historic site in 2004.

The parents’ room with a baby crib/cot and small desk

Close up of rope bed (method used from the 16th to 19th centuries). These ropes would be regularly tightened to support the mattress. It's where the expression 'Sleep tight' comes from — Close up of rope bed (method used from the 16th to 19th centuries). These ropes would be regularly tightened to support the mattress. It’s where the expression ‘Sleep tight’ comes from

The children’s room, one bed for the girls, one for the boys (Blurry)

Great castiron stove dominates the living space

The living room with a dining table. No couches! The collection window is the small one at the back

The cottage newsletter arrives every month, promising craft lessons, tours and more. I’m ready for it.

Adrianna and I left there and walked down the street for a while.

The Spirited Coffee Shop is in a building with lovely art deco design. We had a drink there after our cottage visit

This TTC construction worker mural is north of the Dupont bridge by the TTC offices and garages.

Wall art on Bathurst Street cannabis dispensary north of Dupont

On the stone wall along the perimeter of the TTC Hillcrest Complex. This is the (TTC) Toronto Transit Commission’s historic, massive maintenance facility and operational hub. It features the retro, industrial TTC stencil typography painted directly onto the surface—reminiscent of traditional municipal transit equipment markings rather than standard modern station signage

12th October 2026

Short Walk on Clinton Street

Sunday, 11 October, 2026

First, I’ve updated my Live if you want to go see how my health is going.

I’ve been on a bunch of walks, which I’ll regale you with soon. OK, maybe two or three, but growing. It’s my attempt to get more active and beat this annoying pre-diabetes. I really have a long way to go, but every bit counts…I hope. The walk on Friday has a bit of a history in itself. I have been trying to go to the Tollkeepers Cottage, which is a historical site not too far from where I live, but it’s hard to find an opportunity to get to their monthly Sunday open house. The next one is on 18th October, and I’m hopeful. That’ll be another blog. Meanwhile, their newsletter lets me know about their free walks. I got in touch with them to ask if I’d be able to manage it. They were super friendly, telling me that they were planning to start some shorter and slower walks for people who need that. Would I be interested? I would! Then last week they got in touch again to say that they had a trial walk planned nearby, and I was invited to be there. I accepted right away.

We met at the Christie subway, one stop away from my base, and I decided to get Wheeltrans there and to make my own way back, since I had no idea how long the walk would be, and I’d have an opportunity to check out the Korean Supermarket. I’d been trying to get there for some time. There were six of us plus our guide, an older lady with a lot of energy. I was impressed and envious! I took a lot of photos, so this will be mostly that, with some stories where I can.

Koreatown runs from Bathurst Street to Christie Street, one subway stop long. At Christie subway is the Korean Tiger, there since 2004. It was originally just for Christmas, but storage in the meantime proved a problem, since it kept getting stolen. The answer was to keep the popular tiger in place year-round. It’s impressive at 17 feet wide by 8.5 feet tall and represents Baekho, the sacred guardian of the western sky from the ancient Goguryeo mural, and was placed to pray for the neighbourhood’s prosperity and well-being. Gorgeous at Christmas!

The following are photos along the short block from the Tiger to Clinton Street. We were told about Korea’s journey to its current written language, which is wholly phonetic today, when originally the written language was made up of characters like the Chinese. The phonetic writing means that language learning has speeded up considerably.

We turned onto Clinton Street, where our history walk continued. Along the way, we saw quite a few houses that were decorated for Halloween. And the colours are changing. I love that.

I may have forgotten to take photos of the newer builds on the street. They came about when the local abattoir, which slaughtered smaller animals like goats and sheep, burned down in 1999. These houses have a Toronto look, but not like the original houses on the other side.

Newer house on Clinton Street, following the typical Victorian style popular in Toronto

Our first story came at Crestfallen Lane, and it was a long and surprising one. It’s an unusual name for a lane, but Crestfallen was a horse. He was among four rescued from a glue factory. The rescuer was Dr John Gerald Fitzgerald. Children were dying from diphtheria, and the antitoxin to save them was brought up from the USA at great cost. Fitzgerald bought the horses, housed them in a shed at the back of the houses off Clinton Street at Barton, and injected them with the diphtheria toxin. He then used their blood to deliver antitoxin to children who would otherwise have died. He stipulated that the families should not be charged. He established Connaught Antitoxin Laboratory (later, Connaught Laboratories) at the University of Toronto to provide affordable Canadian supplies of diphtheria antitoxin and rabies treatments. His contribution eliminated diphtheria in the area. Fitzgerald, as director of Connaught, was also a key figure in the development of insulin, Banting and Best’s laboratory being just upstairs from the antitoxin headquarters. Sadly, mental health illness ran in his family, and he committed suicide in 1940 at the age of 58. It had not been the first time he tried to end his life. Shamed and forgotten due to the stigma of suicide, although Banting and Best were two of his pallbearers, it took some years until his grandson, James, discovered his grandfather’s story and wrote a book – What Disturbs the Blood – about it. He wrote this article about his grandfather’s remarkable life and contribution to the field of medicine. There’s much more to the story of JGF, too much to write about. In 2004, he was posthumously inducted into the Canadian Medical Hall of Fame, a titan of Canadian healthcare. This story really moved me. It reminded me of Alan Turing, who, despite such heroic work, was shamed at the end of his life.

There are many lanes in Toronto, all named after people who matter. This next lane is John McIntosh Lane. Bonnie Gibbons, an ancestor of John McIntosh, lives on Barton St. John McIntosh “discovered” the McIntosh apple in 1796. There are now 300,000 trees around the world. The family has lived in Toronto for three generations.

This ordinary straggly plant is milkweed. It looks like something any gardener would love to get rid of, but it is the egg-laying plant for the Monarch butterfly, so it’s left alone here on Clinton Street

Our tour guide, Marilyn, shows us some of the pollinator plants. This small house was so pretty, my favourite one on the street, along with the following

The most interesting house on Clinton Street is the home of Albino Carreira. When this Portuguese-Canadian man was injured on his construction job, he filled his idle hours by glueing coins to his house. He sliced pool cues, then added beads and shells, then whatever he could find. People call it the wood-cake house or the bug house. It would take a very long time examine what’s become an absolute spectacle. Every inch of the house, the laneway, the garden, and even his van is covered with toys, beads, and different objects that struck Albino’s fancy. I’ll need to come back many times to see it all. I also had a flashback to the graves I’d seen in New Orleans of children, which were also covered in toys for them to play with. This was that on steroids.

The tour ended and I headed for P.A.T., the Korean supermarket. At the side on the north and south of the road were two large murals.

Inside the supermarket, the first thing is the taiyaki stand. These are fish-shaped waffles filled with either vanilla custard or red bean. My brother and I shared one when he last visited. Pretty good! They sell hundreds every day.

The supermarket isn’t fancy and I think the prices are quite high compared to Chinatown, but it’s interesting to browse. Note the elegance of these chicken feet!

Just a few more photos on my way to the subway, where I missed my ride for free within two hours by five minutes. Woe! And who knew you could get a handroll with natto in it? I passed it by since it’s on the second floor and I can’t get up there.

Opposite Christie subway station is Christie Pits. The Toronto local baseball team plays here, but I’ve never made it to a game. One day? Christie Pits was made by Garrison Creek, a defunct stream that features throughout the west end of the city. It was once an escavation site for sand and gravel used as building material in early Toronto. More about the creek some other time. The ravine that was created was called Shacktown when it housed poor immigrants. By 1909 the gravel was depleted and it became Willowvale Park. The name Christie Pits arrived in 1983, named after Christie Street. In 1933 a riot took place. A mainly Jewish baseball team was playing aginst the St. Peter’s (Catholic) team, when the latter unfurled a bedspread displaying a swastika. Others joined in and the fight lasted until 1am. Fortunately, there were only a few injuries, one hospitalisation, but no deaths. The police chief, who had already witnessed anti-Jewish sentiment in other areas of the city, sent just 2 or 3 police attended and four people were arrested. After this incident, the mayor outlawed the showing of the statistika. The park is difficult for me to navigate since it really is quite deep, but I’ll try to skirt the edges some time before or after the snow.

I was quite proud of myself today for braving the subway alone. Gold star! When I got back, the restaurant was deep into pumpkin season.

26th September 20266th October 2026

Reflections on being not quite a flower child

Saturday, 26 September, 2026

In this blog post, I’m reflecting on my past a bit. You’ve been warned.

Bluehost is reminding me that it’s been another year, and they want more money. I’m not a fan of monetising what amounts to a private journal sometimes, but I’m starting to see the beauty in it. I write a lot and could find a topic, but not sure I have the energy for it, to be honest. Seems to be a full-time job. I actually have two cousins (well, daughters of a cousin, which is what again…?) who run successful social media accounts. At a funeral reception before I left London, I almost turned fangirly when re-meeting them. Many years ago, forget how long but I should definitely dig it up, I wrote an article about blogging. At that time it was a completely unknown term. An online friend of a friend whom I interviewed told me about a concept now known as independent journalism. He talked about how “in the future” people on the street would be the ones to deliver news, as it happened, before the papers printed and spun it. I thought it a curious idea at the time, but I also thought how very obvious it seemed. Twitter was just a budding site then. I hung on silly things like Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore giving blow-by-blow accounts of their seemingly ordinary home life, Tweeting back and forth like a competition, and I didn’t have to dig for them since there were so few accounts to follow. A few people, including me, would tweet to Kirstie Alley, and suddenly we became her little cabal when she developed Phitter, something a Google search won’t even show me anymore. When she turned a bit weird and then when she died, it felt like a personal loss. Social media has evolved, but not necessarily in the best way.

Back patio was all packed up for the holidays. Peaceful. They’re back now, and I actually missed looking out at the lights and the smell of woodsmoke

Recently I posted to Instagram images of art affixed to utility poles in the neighbourhood. Somehow I missed the “best one” right outside the house. Cake, yes! (I’m off cake so this will have to do

The garden next door is at its peak, and I’m waiting for the harvest, although I’m not invited. It will be a long winter. The other day, quite by chance, I looked outside to see that the Old Man was visiting “my” garden. I wonder what he was thinking.

A deep discussion in the garden. Harvest plans?

I’ve had a flurry of dining out opportunities. Some fancier than others. Here’s some news, though. I’m invited to dine downstairs as a reward for “taking care of things” while the restaurant was closed. Stay tuned. Could be interesting.

I had brunch with my niece and her close friend. I’m not a fan of a typical breakfast, so I chose the giant (yep) croissant with smoked salmon, burrata and arugula (rocket)

A calorie and carb blow-out at Swatow, a restaurant I’ve been going to for decades. Satay beef with gai lan on fried (crispy at the edges) noodles, and I snuck a few pieces of the delicious lemon chicken

I have yet to do my brief street art tour at the western end of Little Portugal, but I have been capturing a few familiar sights around town. Must slot in that LP visit soon.

This is the side of Sanko, a Japanese food shop on West Queen West. This is their new painting, and I finally had an opportunity to photograph it. I’m usually speeding by in transport

While not actually art, such nonsense catches my eye

Meeting with my niece’s friend, Mandy, brought back some great memories of living in San Francisco – a really precious time in my life. Love that city. My niece, Mandy, and I had gone away for a few days there together way back when. We had the best time. I immediately dug out my photos Shortly afterwards, my brother brought up San Francisco again and it felt like one of those happy coincidences.

Filbert Steps, San Francisco — Mandy at the top of the Filbert Steps, Russian Hill (my favourite area) back in 2005

I had a great boyfriend in San Francisco (a story for another time maybe), and we’re still in touch – um…57 years later. I owed him an email:
(edited)Today my brother was talking about visiting me in San Francisco in the Union Street hotel place. It brought back all kinds of memories; I remember so much and yet not enough. He mentioned getting a salad in a place called Minimum Daily Requirement. Do you remember the name of that restaurant that everyone in that place ate at? Was it there? It was always lentil soup and bread and butter as far as I remember. I did look it up to see if I could find it online, even as a historical place, but nothing came up. That made me think about cruising through the supermarket and eating food before I got to the cash register. I think you weren’t keen on me doing that, but I was hungry and broke. I don’t remember how long I had to wait for my first wages and finally being able to eat properly. Here’s another thing that happened – one of the guys I stayed with before I eventually got a shared room in that place worked in a shop on Fisherman’s Wharf. I love going down there, but one of the things that happened was that I picked up a lot of crazy junk really to decorate my places with, and he never charged me anything but told me to just walk out. Thinking back, that was all wrong, but at the time it seemed sort of normal. What days they were. Also remembering how we all lived like we were in a hippie commune with everyone sharing what we had and spending time in each other’s rooms. The hippie times were dwindling, but I remember that outside on the streets I often saw Barefoot hippies with crazy clothes, and their barefoot children traipsing through North Beach or sitting in Washington Square Park. I wish I had taken photos in those days. The fact I didn’t is just crazy to me.
To my brother I wrote (edited): It was a “hotel” room, more like a doss house. I can still smell it sometimes. There was one toilet, one kitchen, and one shower room on each floor. That’s where I met Txxx, newly arrived from Tokyo – he lived one floor down. If that’s the name of the restaurant, I don’t remember, but we were there a lot because it sold lentil soup with bread very cheaply and I didn’t have any wages at first. Everyone knew each other in there – Lots of hippies. We shared everything. The hippy movement was in its last days, but I remember a lot.

The memories tumble in if I let them. I can say that my life has been a reflection of the incredible times I’ve lived through, post-war existence among ruins in East London, hitting just the right age at the beginning of the Mods and Rockers, Swinging 60s London where I was the most innocent of groupies, and Liverpool when it was the ‘centre of the universe’ as my friend’s husband reminded me the last time I saw him there, arriving in the emergent city of Toronto (and hating it for sooo long before I made friends and got my musician boyfriend, who I realised later was a selfish ass), living in Orange County, North Hollywood and San Francisco when we were all flower children, Living in a Toronto commune when I went back …I’ll leave it there before I’m lost in the past.

I’ve done a few walks recently and will share the photos soon. I’m delighted to get out, no matter how briefly. This makes me think about how much walking I’d be able to do in San Francisco now. Those hills would certainly be more than a challenge. I’m just so happy I got to experience them back when my legs felt the pain, but every step was worth it.

31st August 2026

Everyday things every day

Friday, 28 August, 2026

It’s been a month of getting medical stuff done and I guess I’m OK with that. My bionic era awaits.

First my surgery, then my oncology follow-up, then my lymphoedema and, in there somewhere bloodwork and X-ray. Next comes the optometrist and my radiotherapy follow-up, and to see my GP about this and that my new oncologist doesn’t need to know about – September, here I come. Life is a medical storybook, ticking off more of those boxes.

In December 2023 I went with my son and his girlfriend to the annual Christmas concert at St Anne’s Anglican Church, one of my Toronto Christmas traditions. My friend, Angela, was in their fantastic choir and had introduced me to the concerts many years ago. The church, built in 1907, was a breathtaking one. Not only was the exterior a lovely Byzantine-inspired design, and the interior full of colourful mosaic work, it also had many paintings around the eaves. These paintings were the only religious works of some of the Group of Seven, Canada’s most prominent artists. It’s hard to describe how stunning the whole was. I have a video.

This is written in the past tense because in early June 2024, a scarce six months later, the church, a National Historic Site of Canada, was on fire and the interior was completely gutted. I went to look at it shortly afterwards, and it pretty much broke my heart. This month, they are holding an exhibition in that space, completely open to the sky. The front of the domed church is intact. Three walls are standing but badly damaged. I went with my niece to take a look. I can’t say the art pieces inside were impressive, but the whole experience left me very emotional. It had been pouring all morning, so I wasn’t sure we’d get there, but I set out anyway. I arrived pretty wet and waded through deep puddles in the parking lot to get into the site. I’ll include some of the things that were on display. A very nice touch is a bread oven made from salvaged bricks. Adrianna and I had a small pita each with the very good za’atar dip made by the baker.

Gladstone Avenue, Toronto. St Anne’s on the left and the old Cadbury factory on the right (Now Mondelez)

From the street, it looks almost normal, but the doors are covered in wood and the beautiful middle dome, pictured here, is gone. The church was inspired by the magnificent Early Byzantine church Hagia Sophia (532-537AD) in Istanbul

From the back, inside the gutted church, the real story. The walls are wrapped in white, with red tape. There were three hanging objects that were super heavy. Couldn’t move them. Also a giant nest. I need to find out more about each highly symbolic piece

Art piece, Pushmepullyou, was very Pompeii

One of two wooden sculptures on the old doors. Reminding me of a bishop

I got over to Fiesta Farms to shop. Prices are high but the selection of herbs and vegetables are what sent me there. A long time ago, Fiesta Farms was a reasonably-priced heavily Italian supermarket and I’d go to save money and find some good Italian choices. These days I can’t afford much of what they put on their shelves. It’s become elite. Long gone are the days of $2 locally made panettone. Anyway, I walked there and back, and that’s A Big Deal.

Intrigued by mini artichokes and some zucchini blossoms near the entrance. Didn’t buy

Many, many soups. One sounded good enough to imitate — beet and ginger. Will try it!

Across the road, the nursery version – Fiesta Gardens. Once my plant shop of choice

On the bakery counter. Am I the only one who doesn’t love cannoli?

The herbs and vegetables always look amazing and this trip I noticed almost everything was from Ontario or Canada. This will change when the cold weather hits and everything is US or Mexico. I can guarantee Mexico will be favoured. The boycott of US goods is everywhere. Feel bad for the farmers, though

Meanwhile, I’m walking in the neighbourhood again – it’s the easy option, and now that the weather will start to cool down, I will pick some other neighbourhoods to be dropped off in for some different vistas and a different vibe, no matter how subtle. Making that list.

On the way to Fiesta Farms, a lawn campaign poster bonanza

Are others aware of the French language schools in Canada? This one is a Catholic elementary

An enormous and healthy silver birch tree a street just north of here

At the Portuguese supermarket, I was interested to see how clean and sanitised the pig trotters are compared to Ridley Road Market in Hackney. These won’t offend anyone at first glance!

I hope I can find some of these ‘lantern’ sprays for the apartment this autumn

In the Italian and Portuguese neighbourhoods – this one blends them – there are always vines set up wherever residents can fit them. This one in a front garden close by

Utility (Bell) box art – everywhere. This one is close by

About a block away, this very brief stretch of road is open to bicycles only and there’s a small picnic table, a bike station, and a solar panel

I want to walk “new” neighbourhoods. I’ve lived in Toronto enough to know that there aren’t many areas that are unfamiliar. So it’s mostly a revisit. Meanwhile, I went to Chinatown and to Little Portugal so I have had a bit of a change of scenery – the main goal, along with walking, which I’m trying to extend. I’d better start that list. Where first?

After a long break, I went for pho again. I need to try some new places. This is Xe Lua in Chinatown

Little Portugal intersection. We had a huge rainstorm that day and the skies are bleak

After leaving St. Anne’s, spotted this familiar rooster in the heart of Little Portugal

In Little Portugal. Crab apples, anyone? Whoa

This week, the restaurant went on holiday. Everyone is gone for a couple of weeks. It’s quiet! We’ve been asked to water the plants while they’re away, and it sounds like we might get a meal in return. Finally!

Coming in from a walk. The tables are gone and the chairs are housing plants for now

There’s been a fair amount of rain, and I’ve had appointments, so I’m trying to make the most of being at home. I started a program to combat my pre-diabetes and felt that, while I have a lot of diabetes knowledge from my teaching days, I needed a refresher-update. If I learn only one new thing a week, I will consider it a good move. The provincial health insurance covers the program, so it’s free. There’s homework each week, followed by a one-hour Monday morning touch-in about challenges and triumphs and a place to ask questions. Chief takeaways so far – An overnight fast of 12 hours (max 16) is recommended (and I’ve noticed I feel healthier in the morning now, so triumph.) Snacking means insulin is pushed into the system, so I have been doing that less often. This week was about exercise. This will be a tough one but if I can walk 20 minutes a day, especially during ‘fasting’ times it could make a difference. If you’re in Ontario, BC or Alberta, look here.

Not just walking. Also getting some sewing in and, looking at my latest, considering a new doll

Wondering about the Old Man? He was spotted in his now-flourishing garden, squatting with some support. Envious of that! My knees definitely won’t let me

The back patio is all packed up for the season. I’m a bit sad, especially if we get a meal – I’d have liked to have had that backyard woodfire smoked version of things

These are my everyday hours. Nothing to shout about but real. Now to decide what to do next. My work hours continue to drop, and that isn’t going to change any day soon, if ever. On my list, anyway – a couple of medical appointments (stop, already!), a visit to a different neighbourhood but also doing a bit of street art photography in Little Portugal – I simply couldn’t cover the whole area, two out-of-the-way eating places, a new doll – meaning a visit back to the fabric recycling place or a thift store or two, a visit to a historical site I haven’t been before – need to figure that one out soon since the next open day is coming up. Every day isn’t full of excitement, but I’m doing my best. I’d just love a companion for some of it. Seeking a foodie and a flaneur friend. You in?

26th August 2026

Breast Cancer Journey: Six-month check up

Thursday, 20 August, 2026

Women’s College Hospital has a Transition (After Cancer Treatment) Clinic and that’s where I was headed. This date was stamped in my memory as where I’d get answers, six months after my last mammogram in February and about nine months after my last oncology clinic visit. I’m not exactly sure why some people report having their follow-ups (including routine scans) every three months, but at my hospital group it’s every six months and no routine tests other than the yearly mammogram.

Anyway, I was looking forward to this visit and, all in all, I was happy with it. Yay.

I got there a little early and went in right away. A nurse practitioner saw me for most of the time I was there, during about forty minutes of questions from both of us – duly recorded and answered. No stone left unturned. Another yay.

The doctor came in briefly – Carol Townsley. I liked her for the ten or fifteen minutes she was there.

Takeaways – I’ll have an X-Ray for my hip and thigh pain; Go ahead with my ultrasound (ordered by my doctor’s office) for the lower abdominal pain; Repeat the bone density scan to see what therapy I might need to avoid osteoporosis (my hormone blockers and cancer treatments weaken bones); Get some bloodwork to check in on my Potassium and Ferritin levels. It’s not a lot, yet a lot. I chose not to do the lab work and X-Ray that same day – because it’s a lot.

So far so good. Another mammogram in February, followed by another check-up at this same clinic. The doctor told me that any time I had concerns or questions, to call in and she’d meet with me by phone. I looked forward to this visit and was happy with it. Almost every cancer survivor you might meet will tell you that after treatment with its intense and regular scrutiny, it’s normal to feel at sea and scared. It’s a long stretch of six months now, but I don’t feel abandoned and that’s a good thing.

Who I am now. Or is it? I have to say I love how the beauty feature on edit ignores my after-cataract-surgery eye bags, and that angles help. This is not a deflection but the whole truth. The long curls are gone (not missing them, surprisingly), and the boobs are a whole other story; my inner thoughts aren’t very different. I’m still me.

Index of all my Breast Cancer Journey Posts