So yesterday I turned in my final assessment for this semester. "You know what that means?" I said to Mr Bea.

"Toga!" he replied. But then he had to stay late at work, so it was a girl-only night after all. I decided to stay on the couch (sans toga, although my top was slightly Grecian in style) with a soothing home-made orange and cinnamon infusion*, watching TV and working on my IIFF entry. And then, of course, I donated what I would have spent, had I gone out, to the Queensland branch of the Cancer Council as part of their Girl's Night In appeal.

I guess, to me, cancer and infertility have long been related, ever since I watched my mother plunge head-first into menopause after chemo and radiation therapy. Years later, when I found out shortly after our wedding that she wasn't just an isolated blip on our family tree, I wondered seriously if I should be producing genetically-related offspring at all. But my mother remains opposed to having her genes tested, and such a high percentage of breast cancer cases - even amongst men, like my grandfather, who succumbed to the disease when I was five - are not related to the classic BRAC mutations at all, although new genetic markers continue to be found all the time.

In the end, what I came to notice about my family tree was this: not the people who had been affected by breast cancer, but the people who weren't. Dozens of them. Even on my mother's side. Whole groups who had lived to die of some other curse. And another thing: my mother survived. She has been in remission for fifteen years. It's true, she's been lucky, but breast cancer patients are getting luckier all the time - thanks to the efforts of organisations like the Cancer Council.

Even so, infertility has brought the spectre back to me these last few years. For one thing, there was that time we thought Mum's cancer was back. We'd already been trying some time. I dropped by the house and, unwittingly, she demanded grandchildren before she died - which event, she warned me, was imminent (a couple of months later, she turned out to be fine). On the other hand, despite reassurances from several doctors, backed by studies, I remained afraid of hormone treatments for a long time. I also fretted as time slipped away - I was supposed to have my kids young, before I started screening (which I'm due to start in 2008 - after, I was told, I'm finished breastfeeding, ha ha), and I also wanted them to be old enough to understand about treatment, should that happen and, well, I just wanted to feel like I had time to watch them grow up some.

I don't want to sound too dramatic. There is an excellent chance I will never face a diagnosis of breast cancer, and there is a good chance of cure if I do. It's just... well, you know how it is. You see just enough so you can't take things for granted anymore. I'd like to say that's the precious thing about it, but really I just wish someone would make the disease go away.

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*I bought a new one-cup infuser. It's great! I peeled half an orange, threw in a cinnamon stick, and poured over some boiling water. One of my favourites.


Other Bloggers Who Spent The Night In To Aid Cancer Treatment
Vee of The Sweet Life - and her pink-frangipanni-scented bath.
Ellen at Miss E's Musings - sitcoms, couch-potatoing, and snuggling with the dog.
Pamela hasn't had time to relax or have fun this week, but made a donation anyway.
Melissa (the Stirrup Queen) spent time browsing the bookstore on their evening in (the store) to work out how much to donate to their local cancer charity.
Rachel stayed in, and gave her daughter, Hadas, a good start as she went out to help the local door-knock appeal.
Samantha enjoyed grilled tomato and cheese sandwiches on a boy-girl night in, and sent a donation to the American Cancer Society.
Serenity curled up in front of Mythbusters and then had a great night's sleep, with proceeds going to her local breast cancer charity.
Email me at infertilefantasies at gmail dot com or leave a comment to tell me about your night in.


Cancer's Reality - from Fellow Bloggers
Toddler Planet - inflammatory breast cancer, a rare form.
KarenO - breast and ovarian cancer in the family, and the BRAC2 mutation.
Vanilla Dreams - (password protected) - living with infertility after ovarian cancer.
Cancer Baby - she was named Jessica, and she was loved.
Imstell is a mum blogging in the aftermath of treatment for inflammatory breast cancer. Thanks, Whymommy, for pointing her out.
Lisa P sadly passed away earlier this year. Halfway through her battle with infertility, she was struck down by Hodgkin's lymphoma. (Check the comments on the most recent post.)
Email me, or leave a comment, if you know of other bloggers in our community who are writing about living with the reality of cancer who would like to be linked here. It might be themselves, or a close family member.


I also found this story offering hope to children whose parents have survived cancer for ten years or more. It seems they have an improved chance of remission if they end up facing the same cancer.