TICKIFIED!

Yesterday, we discovered a tick sauntering arrogantly across a kitchen chair.
Like he owned the place.

With a shriek and a screech, I sprang into action and applied a variety of Kung-fu, Karate, and Jiu-Jitsu moves to DECIMATE, PULVERIZE and plain ole SMASH that tiny tick into non-existence.

Then we all did the Heebie-Jeebie dance.
You put your right foot in.
You put your right foot out.
You put your right foot in and you thrash it all about.
You've got the Heebie-Jeebies, so you shake it all around.
That's what it's all about!
Ick.  Yuck.  Blech.

One of my sons placed the teeny tick corpse into a clear glass and then we all ran over to the computer to ask Mr. Google some questions!

What kind of tick had infringed upon our bug-free home?  Did we need to react with mass hysteria....call the police, call the newspaper, call the zoo, call the exterminator......and begin wearing Hazmat suits?  Did we need to rush ourselves down to the emergency room for an examination, some medication and maybe defibrillator usage?

Mr. Google was patient and provided lots of details for us.  I really like Mr. Google.  He is thorough.  He is detailed.  He provides articles, pictures, worse-case-scenarios and short videos on pretty much any topic we are interested in.  And this is what he told us.....our Ticky Trespasser was most likely a brown dog tick.
Brown dog ticks are reddish-brown and are the tick most likely to be found inside people's homes (ugh).

They can lay their eggs pretty much anywhere and are found anywhere in the world (crazy little opportunistic pest!)

They are not known to transmit Lyme disease but CAN transmit Rocky Mountain spotted fever (ugh and good to know).


We also read about some generic Tick Topics like:

Ticks are members of the arachnid family.  That means they are related to spiders not insects.  They have 8 legs.

Ticks have four stages to their life cycle:  egg, larva, nymph, adult.   They blood-feed at the last three stages (larva, nymph and adult) and then the females will seek to reproduce and lay more tick eggs. (WHEE!)

A female is bigger than a male (probably cuter, too.  The size thing is a good distinguisher since ticks don't shave their legs or wear pink hair ribbons.)


Okay, so now we were Tick-Informed and were feeling much less Terrified-of-Ticks or Tickified.

We eased away from Mr. Google.

"How did the tick get in here?" I questioned the kids suspiciously as if they had maybe snuck him into the house for some fun and games.

"Ugh....the computer said they often attach to dog hosts," quipped Liam, my eldest.  He rarely misses things.  Don't try to pull any wool over this kid's eyes....especially because that wouldn't be very nice.

"Hmmmmm...." I mused and we all cast narrowed glances at Yukon.  He sat up, wrinkled his brow at us and tilted his head to the side as if to say "What?  What'd I do?"

I clicked some keys on the keyboard and mouse-clicked on an article entitled "How to check your dog for ticks".  See what I mean?  This Mr. Google thing is HANDY stuff!   I mean, how did our parents do it before Mr. Google came around?
I just don't even know!!!

Mr. Google advised that we thoroughly check our in-house canine so we descended on Yukon.  We examined between his paw toes.  We peeked way way down into his ears.  We checked under his armpits (or paw pits) and all over his groin (awkward!)  We ran our fingers all over his head, neck, body, legs.
Nada.
No ticks.
Nothing.

"Wait!  Didn't Lochlan say he saw the tick earlier?" my second oldest questioned.  He is the detail guy.

We swivelled our eyes warily Lochlan's way.
"Did you?  See the tick?  Earlier?" I asked.  Apparently I had forgotten how to form long questions.  Ticks will do that to you!

"Um...." Lochlan stalled, trying to remember the exact details, "I saw a spider on my hand and I wiped it off."

"AHA!" I announced triumphantly, cocky with my newfound tick knowledge, "that was the tick!  Maybe he came inside the house on you!"

We mused on that for a moment before I shouted, "Eww.....TICK CHECK!" and all the kids snapped to attention.  We are avid hikers, after all and have been preparing for this moment for years.  We tick check regularly but just have never found them before.
The kids lined up facing me and pulled up their shirts.  I checked their tummies and backs, arm pits, arms, legs and ran my fingers through their hair.
Nothing.
No ticks.
Nada.

"Okay, maybe it was just a one time thing," I ruminated out loud, "where were you playing outside, Loch?"

"In the front yard!" my daughter responded quickly, "We were playing Ancaster Fair."

(side note:  "Ancaster Fair" is a game of genius imagination.  The rules are flexible but usually involve taking all the INDOOR toys and placing them OUTDOORS all over the front lawn.  The game is won when all the toys are outside, all the kids are inside and Mommy is standing in the middle of the yard pulling out her hair.)

"In the front yard," my daughter repeated, noting my flagging attention and shudders at the mention of the game "Ancaster Fair".

"Hmmmm......." five sets of eyes sized up our small, very urban, short-cut, front lawn.  Toys were spewed haphazardly over the grass in a crazy, colourful collection.   A surfboard was fasted to the umbrella tree.  Sidewalk chalk was spilled onto the sidewalk.  Several bikes, bike helmets and a guinea pig named Maple completed the chaotic scene.

Was that toy explosion the scene of tick infestation, I wondered?

The lawn provided no more clues.
The dog had been checked.  The kids had been checked.  Paul was gone all day.  I decided to check him later.
Nothing more.
No more ticks.
Nada.

We all felt pretty grossed out though.  All day, we had Phantom Tick Sightings.

"Look, mom, a TICK!"
"No, Sugar.  That is an ant."

"Look, mom, a TICK!"
"No, Buttons, that is a spider."

"Look, mom, a TICK!"
"No, Noodles, that is a caterpillar."

"Look, mom, a TICK!"
"No, Honey-Cakes, that is a cat."  This was getting ridiculously out of hand!

Today, I woke up with a resolution.  I decided we needed to learn some more about these Tick Terrorists.  Ignorance leads to Fear and Hysteria and we would NOT be ignorant!  No tick was going to scare us away from our very own front yard.

Education is Ammunition and all that!

We researched types of ticks found in Ontario.  Liam and Donovan each picked one and are working on a research paragraph complete with a drawing of their ticks......Deer Tick and Brown Dog Tick.  Gwen is doing a simpler research assignment on a Lone Star Tick and Lochlan.....well, he coloured a picture of a tick.  And that is because, yes, you CAN find Tick Colouring Pages online.  Good to know, right?  You are all going to Google, Pick and Print your own colouring pages now, aren't you?

Today, maybe you have your very own Tick Tale.

Maybe you have been calmly picking ticks off your torso for years and you wonder what the hype is all about.
Maybe you have just had your first tick-sighting like our family.
What did you do?
What have you learned?

Maybe you care to share?
Please let me know your story and we can stop being Tickified together!

Cheers!
Brigette-the-Tick-Terminator!

It's a Dog's Life.

I have a confession to make.
Please do not judge me too harshly.
I am ashamed to admit it openly but I think that being honest will help me be a better person.

I have a confession to make and it is that I have trained-dog-envy.

There.
I've said it.
It's out there in the open.
I have honest-to-goodness, slack-jawed, eye-popping envy when I see owners with their dogs pitter-pattering in step with them on walks down the sidewalks, at soccer games, in the mall, at the local Barkery (for goodness sakes) where you and Fido can share a Double Doggie Latte and Human Cupcakes too!

I have that envy because I am still at the stage where sweating profusely during walks is a norm and the arm-lurch a position that is almost comfortable.
I am certain my biceps are ginormous because nothing says WORK OUT like the 80 pound-doggie- lurch- of- doom!
I'm considering a WORK OUT VIDEO.  Because, why not, right?
Like the other day, I saw a work out video that incorporated 80s dance moves and fashion and I had to just stop everything and watch because it was like some sort of awesome train wreck of disaster on that video with all that hair and fluorescent tight clothing!
So, move over Jillian Michaels and your Shred it videos!
Make room for Brigette VanHuisstede and her Lurch It, Baby One More Time video.
It would feature me and my 80 pound chien lurching it like there was no tomorrow.  At the end, I would flex my biceps while the sun was setting behind me....maybe I would also be standing somewhere picturesque like the open, dandelion-flecked field near my house.
This could be good, people!
Sign up now!
(for the video).

But back to my envy issue.

Let's just be all open here.

I have this neighbour.  She lives across the street from me and I am certain she is The Dog Whisperer.  She is often outside, weeding, hanging laundry or doing some other sort of outside activity and there is often one, two or three dogs with her.  They are not leashed.  They are not sporting a 53-point harness that is also attached to a leash.  There is no wooden, chainlink or invisible fencing bordering her corner lot.  And yet those dogs stay on her property, listen to her commands and calmly follow her around.  It is a beautiful sight.

There is Roxie, the Jack Russel terrier.  She is white with a brown eye patch.  She is wild, rambunctious and has the energy of a two-year-old hopped up on sugar.

There is Ralph, a black lab.  Steady.  Solid.  Lumbering and friendly.

A new addition is Zahara, a miniature husky.  She has one brown eye and one blue eye and is immediately reminiscent of a wolf.
These dogs frolic with one another but mostly they just hang out.
All calm and stuff.

When I walk by her property with Yukon in his 91-point harness, leash and practically a saddle and a bit, I feel like a circus show going by.  I would wave but I have a death grip on the doggie who sees his friends and just wants to play.  I have learned that it is cool to unhook his leash, fall back onto my butt-cheeks with sheer exhaustion and just enjoy the moment.
Yukon joins his friends.  They bark and lick and jump all over each other.

Yesterday I took my middle son to his soccer practise.  Everyone seems to have a dog there, so, I thoughts to myself yesterday, "I should bring Yukon!  It will be great fun to have him there, getting all socialized!  He is homeschooled, you know!"
So I did.
The moment that I opened the car door and he leaped in a golden arc of joy towards all those PEOPLE and BALLS, I had several thoughts.

Thought #1:  This was a colosally bad idea.

Thought #2:  This could totally get rid of any left-over lymphatic cording that I have hindering my arm movement.  Boo Yah!  I should let my physiotherapist know!

Thought #3:  Why didn't I just bring my lawn chair and cell phone and join all the other parents sitting there quietly watching their children practise soccer drills in the hot, humid evening hashtagging key parts periodically?

Thought #4:  I didn't have time for Thought #4 because we were dashing across the parking lot towards Donovan's practise field.

But then.....seven gadgillion soccer balls rolled by and Yukon didn't immediately eat them.  When I said "Leave it", he ignored them.  Woot.  Treat. Treat.  Treat.  (that's me rewarding Yukon for listening to my command.  With treats.  Which are tiny pieces of his dog food.  Sometimes I treat him with ice cubes.  Because he will eat ANYTHING).

And then, forty-mazillion children ran by waving their arms unrestrainedly and speaking in high-pitched excited tones.  I could feel Yukon tensing up 80 pounds of muscle but I said, "Stay with me" which means stay with me and he listened.

Tongue lolling.

Slobber dripping.

Paws pitter-pattering.

And I thought to myself, "Dude, you're doing it.  You are Whispering Dog, Girl!" .

We sat together on a hill over-looking the soccer field.  The sun was setting.  A breeze whipped through my hair.  My dog sat at attention by my side and he was calm and attentive.

It was a good moment.

Me and the Chien.

The Best of Times; The Worst of Times!

About nine months ago, our world was rocked.
I found a lump and tests confirmed that it was breast cancer.  The oncologist gave it a longer and more complicated name, but we just decided to call it Trouble.
Trouble entered our life and made us feel all freaked out.

"What?" I cried out, "Cancer?  I can't have cancer!
I'm too young!
I have too many kids!  Who will be there to raise up Liam? Donovan?  Gwen?  Lochlan?
What about Paul?  My husband needs ME to be strong!
Plus I am WAY too busy to be sick!
Who will teach the kids?
Take care of the house?
Do the laundry?
What about all the things I still want to do?
The places I still need to hike?
The growing old that I want to do?
There must be some mistake!"

But God doesn't make mistakes.
He heard my cries - I mean, it would have been hard NOT to have heard them.....they were pretty loud and wet.
He heard the cries of Paul, myself and our children intertwined, like a messy harmony being raised up to heaven.
He heard our cries and He delivered us from our distress.  Not the trouble, mind you, but the distress.
He took our sorrow, our anxiety and our pain and He comforted us with His love.
I am here, He said.
Do not be afraid, He said.
Do not be discouraged, He said, see all these people who love you.  They will help you out for a while.

"Aaaaaaaaaah!" I raged, "I can't do this!  It makes me feel sick and I am a terrible sick person!  I don't want to have needles!  I don't like relinquishing my rigid schedule!  This is too hard!"

Be still, He said, and know that I am God.  I am your strength.  I am your refuge.  I am always here even when trouble comes to visit.

And so the days rapidly turned into weeks and the weeks into months and here I am:  Chemotherapied, surgically-altered, and radiated to a fine, reddish hue.

"Wow," Paul and I said to each other today, "it's done!"

We met with the Radiologist today.  We will meet with her again in a few weeks.
Then a mammogram in a few months for Miss Remaining-Breast.
And a follow-up appointment to be followed by a yearly follow-up appointment.
And some medications that need to be taken daily.

But, other than that, we are DONE!

I left radiation for the last time today.  Radiation Rush #25.  Two of the Radiation Therapists shadowed me and Paul as we made our way to the celebration bell hanging in the hallway.  There is a bell in the bowels of the Juravinski Centre too!  It has an identical purpose to the one hanging in the Chemotherapy Suite on the third floor; the bell hangs ready to be rung with GUSTO in order to celebrate loudly the completion of treatment.

With Paul and the two Radiation Therapists as my audience, I rang that bell.

Loudly.

Tonight, Paul and I went out for dinner with Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan.  It was a glorious celebration!  We are so thankful that the treatments are complete.  We are so thankful that this journey has been characterized by many joyful and blessed moments alongside the bloody and yucky ones.
One of our kids even described it as "fun".

I'm not sure I would have gone with "fun" as the adjective to describe these past nine months.
Perhaps "fortifying" or "uplifting"or "interesting and educational".
Whatever the correct adjective may be, tonight we give thanks.
Thank-you, God, for always hearing our cries and delivering us from our distress.  For comforting us.  For stilling our storms.
You are so good.
Your love endures forever.

Cheers!
Thank you for reading and for your prayers for our family.
Much of today's blog is inspired by Psalm 107 and Psalm 46.
Go forth and check them out.

God bless.
Brigette & Paul, Liam, Donovan, Gwen and Lochlan