When a Hysterectomy Closes the Baby Door, You Cope with Humour

On May 6th, 2021, all non-essential and elective surgeries in Manitoba were postponed for the month because of the rising number of COVID-19. This included hysterectomies.
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“So, are you sexually active?” asked my gynecologist.

I tilted my head, pressing my lips together. Stifling a giggle. “I’ve had sex … and I remember sex.” We both burst out laughing. I said “I’m basically a virgin.” 

Humour is my coping mechanism. I’ll laugh if I can’t find a street. If I almost lock myself out of the house. If I walk into a wall. I’m the one who couldn’t stop laughing because I was stuck in the Arborg Co-op’s car wash. 

This was a little different though as I sat on an exam table naked from the waist down with a thin piece of paper over me. I felt humour would break the ice as I awaited my third pelvic ultrasound.

My ultrasounds have never been the “fun, happy, you’re having twins” kind. If they were, I’d have the cast of The Sound of Music and their backups. Instead it’s thyroid nodules and two unnamed uterine fibroids.

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It’s Time to Rename Fad Diets – You’re Not on the Real Keto Diet

Meet the keto diet.

However, in the epilepsy community, it’s known as the ketogenic diet and it can be traced back to the 1920s.

The modern day keto isn’t keto. Someone realized they lost weight on the keto diet and, toot, toot, all aboard the temporary weight loss train!

The ketogenic diet isn’t a diet. It’s a treatment for children and teens with uncontrolled (refractory) epilepsy. In 1994, it gained mainstream attention as a seizure control treatment when a young boy with refractory epilepsy was kept seizure free thanks to the ketogenic diet. I live with epilepsy, and I learned about the treatment as a teenager.

Continue reading “It’s Time to Rename Fad Diets – You’re Not on the Real Keto Diet”

Losing Grandparents Doesn’t Become Simpler with Age

On December 2, 1984, my Gigi Karatchuk died at the age of 67. Baba died two years before him when I was six years old. I always understood death, but trying to process grief and primary school math is complex. Decades later, we lost our maternal grandparents, and those emotions resurfaced.

Losing grandparents is difficult, and it’s unique for each person. There isn’t a time limit because grief shouldn’t end. You will forever feel the loss when there’s an empty chair. You will have your moments and memories. Embrace your loss. And never be afraid to cry.

My Gigi Karatchuk died on December 2, 1984 at 67 years old, and Baba died also at 67 years old on October 12, 1982. My older sister is the one wearing the striped shirt, and I’m the one sucking my thumb. Photo, 1980

“Grandparents are only with us part-time.”

That was the gist of a late-80s MTS commercial.

As young grandchildren, we’re fortunate to remember and make memories with our grandparents. When our grandparents are still with us in our teen years, or our 20s, 30s, or 40s – we believe they are invincible.

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My Tragic Childhood Cat Tales, The Legend is True

As a child, I loved cats.

However, the title of “Tammy’s Favourite Cat” was dubious because they all died. Natural causes. Alright, semi-natural.

My history with cats is traumatic – and a tad gory. Feline lovers, you may require tissue.

I grew up on a dairy farm in the hamlet of Geysir outside Arborg, Manitoba. Hamlet sounds so quaint.

Our farm was overloaded with cats. In the evening when all 70 to 80 meowed at once – it was Alfred Hitchcock-like. A main contributor to the feline population was Puffballs, a tabby tomcat who visited every winter. Then he’d ship off, and lo and behold, the following spring would bring baskets of kittens! Most resembling Puffballs. Luckily, we had a large barn.

Like a beehive has its Queen Bee, we had a monarch cat: Lucky. A sleek and sophisticated tabby with her own sleeping area and milk bowl.  When Lucky birthed kittens, a hush fell throughout the farm. Lucky’s kittens were coddled – and the first-born was held up by a mandrill … wait, that was The Lion King.

Lucky birthed my first favourite kitten, Rainbow, who was brown with orange dots. We kept Lucky’s kittens in a silicone castle with padded carpet. So, an extra large red plastic crate with straw. One day, I couldn’t find Rainbow. Until I dug into the straw. What kitten dies when they’re barely a month old? The start of the curse.

I moved onto Gizmo, who looked similar to Rainbow.

Gizmo, far right-hand side. Isn’t he adorable. Just look at the fear in his eyes.

*Graphic Content Ahead*

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