On this cold February day, I was happy to snuggle in bed, rereading posts from years past and selecting favourite bits for this week's Saturday Synopsis. Three years ago, while experiencing fatigue and nausea as I adjusted to my maintenance drug for ovarian cancer, I read Katherine May's excellent book Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. Its publishing in 2020 was timely, as the pandemic forced lockdowns across the globe that contributed to feelings of loneliness, isolation and depression—what I described as "a collective wintering that so many of us are slogging through." Whether painful periods are experienced collectively or individually, May argues that it is our responsibility to find the wisdom in our winter and to pass it along to others who will winter after us. It reminds me of something a fellow cancer thriver said to me two years ago and that I've quoted many times since: "if you’re going to go through some s**t, you might as well learn from it."

Two years ago, I published one of my most memorable posts of the almost 1,300 I've written to date: In your words: cancer's impact on loved ones. It summarized and organized comments I had received to the question: "How has a loved one's cancer affected you?" Many of the people who responded to me had lost a loved one to the disease and continued to feel grief. Some had supported family members who survived, but their relationship changed. Some grew closer to their cancer-afflicted loved one or rose to the challenge of caring for the person. All came face-to-face with the fragility of life.

In case you're wondering why there's a cat in this week's visual, here's the reason. When Mel and I were leaving our local Farm Boy this afternoon, we walked past a parked jeep in which the driver was holding a gray cat. Where I might have expected to see a small dog, there sat a fluffy feline. We smiled, and so did the man in the car.

"Lots of people will tell you to follow your bliss: 'Seek your passions, and money will follow.' This is true, but impractical. When you are starting out almost no one knows what their passions are, and you become paralyzed because you can't give your all until you find your passion. A better strategy is to forget your bliss and to find your passion by mastering something, almost anything. As you master some skill, giving your 100% to it, you will inevitably move toward your passion, step by step, all the while earning a living. Most likely it will take all your life to find your bliss. So don't wait for your passion. Just master something."

— Kevin Kelly, founding executive editor of Wired magazine

Write down your questions. Healthcare professionals are busy and, while they're happy to answer questions, they'll conclude an in-person appointment or a call as soon as your questions run out. It's easy to leave an appointment, only to later remember one or two things that you had meant to ask. So compile your questions before an appointment and don't be shy to say, "Let me check my list to make sure that I've asked all the questions I wanted to." And if you have doubts, ask the same question more than once; receiving confirmation from a few members of your healthcare team can be reassuring.

I've learned what I can control is whether I am going to live a day in fear and depression and panic, or whether I am going to attack the day and make it feel as good a day, as wonderful a day, as I can.

— Gilda Radner

I discovered that I wasn't alone in the forest: day or night, I was surrounded by loving family and friends, like familiar flora and fauna. I learned that the forest was not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I came to see that there was much beauty in the forest, especially in the faces of the many people who took care of me. I met others who had also spent time in the forest and gleaned helpful information from their journeys with cancer. I heard that the lessons I had learned and shared were helping people who entered the forest after me. I became less fearful of the forest and less fixated on whether I would one day emerge from the woodland. I understood that I could live and be happy in the forest without giving thought to life beyond the trees.

"Wintering is a season in the cold. It is a fallow period in life when you're cut off from the world, feeling rejected, sidelined, blocked from progress, or cast into the role of an outsider. Perhaps it results from an illness or a life event such as a bereavement or the birth of a child; perhaps it comes from a humiliation or failure. Perhaps you're in a period of transition and have temporarily fallen between two worlds. Some winterings creep upon us more slowly, accompanying the protracted death of a relationship, the gradual ratcheting up of caring responsibilities as our parents age, the drip-drip-drip of lost confidence. Some are appallingly sudden, like discovering one day that your skills are considered obsolete, the company you work for has gone bankrupt, or your partner is in love with someone new. However it arrives, wintering is usually involuntary, lonely, and deeply painful."

— Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times

People who insist on positivity may end up minimizing other people's feelings because of their own discomfort with unhappiness, shaming others when they don't have a positive attitude, alienating and isolating those who are already struggling, or shutting others down, thereby preventing them from voicing what they're experiencing. When we internalize the belief that we must always present a brave face, we may end up brushing off our problems rather than facing them, hiding our true feelings behind more socially acceptable emotions, or feeling guilty about being sad, angry or disappointed.

Last summer, inspired by my sister's garden (about which she texted me: "Garden gone wild! It's taking over my yard. Neighbours are coming to tour it. Lol"), I decided to plant a few seeds in containers on my balcony. About six weeks after my late-July planting, I had a tiny crop of lettuce, kale and chives. It was a positive reminder of growth, family and renewal at a time when I was unexpectedly dealing with a cancer diagnosis and surgery.... Talking to my mom this afternoon about vegetable gardening was a mix of fond memories from the past and delightful anticipation of the future. Perhaps that goes against the maxim to focus on the present, but it felt right to spend some time lost in happy recollections and cheerful expectations. This is the most I've contemplated the future in months. Maybe the Chinese proverb "Life begins the day you start a garden" says it all.

— Wendy Cope, "Being Boring"

So many of us are in need of something positive, humorous or uplifting in our lives. I find myself gravitating to stories demonstrating the best in humanity, such as two young boys who got off their bikes and stood, with hands clasped behind their backs, to pay their respects as a soldier was laid to rest in a nearby cemetery. Or the doctor who dressed up as Batman to fulfill the dream of one of his young cancer patients. Or the woman who made two-person mitts so that she and her husband could hold hands on winter walks. Or the people who gave pairs of roses to passersby: one for themselves and one to give to someone else. Or a community fridge and pantry set up in Hamilton, Ontario, where people are invited to "Take what you need" and "Leave what you can." Or the woman who lives near Wakefield, England, and mistakenly joined a Facebook group for people in Wakefield, Quebec, only to receive a care package from her new Canadian friends when she apologized for joining the wrong group.

My deepest thanks to everyone who contributed to this post. I applaud your willingness to share your story despite the pain.

"Early research has shown an opportunistic salpingectomy—the removal of the fallopian tubes as an elective procedure—can help reduce the risk of ovarian cancer. Last week, the global nonprofit Ovarian Cancer Research Alliance released a statement encouraging women of average risk to have their fallopian tubes removed after they are done with childbirth and when they have a pelvic surgery for another health issue planned."

— Stephanie Dubois, "What experts say you should know about ovarian cancer"

"Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy."

— Dale Carnegie

"Good manners and soft words have brought many a difficult thing to pass."

— Sir John Vanbrugh