I Have Cancer - 2009 December

The week that was - ended December 26, 2009

Dec 302009

That Neulasta sure does an amazing job with the white blood cells.

I had lots of energy all week, though it appeared to wane by mid afternoon. Took a lot of naps that appeared to help. Still end up in bed by around 9 every night. Strange new life.

Janet and I went out to buy a vacuum cleaner and came home with a 46″ Sony Bravia TV. What to do? It was on sale and hard to resist. Also upgraded our TV to HD to take advantage of the new TV. Nothing lie watching Dr Phil in HD. I jest. Never watch that pompous freak. Just an opinion. Don’t sue me. The picture quality is absolutely amazing. In spite of its size, it appears to take less room than the old CRT TV we have been watching for a few years. I was surprised, though, that the quality of the stuff on the TV has not improved. Still the same old boring stuff. Life’s small toys.

And, yes, we did buy a vacuum. A Dyson. Hard to know what the right decision is. Miele, Bosch, Dyson, Hoover? One store wanted to sell me a Seba. Made in West Germany. Hospital grade filters. Live for a lifetime. $800. We had trouble enough adjusting to the $600 price tag of everyone else, let alone make the jump to $800.

Finally went to the movies. Our traditional Christmas day outing. Sherlock Holmes. Had a great time. Not the best movie in the world. What a load of fun though. All tied up neatly at the end in preparation for the sequel(s). If I understand this right, Robert Downey Jr is guaranteeing his future by making movies that end up in sequels. Iron Man, and now this. Clever lad.

Went to see the Dentist, who called my oncologist who basically said do not touch that guy. We are delaying the January chemo by a week to allow me to see the Dental Surgeon, with fewer risks. The surgeon was quite nice. Friendly, with one of those smiles that is well practiced, but not genuine. His nurse was very sympathetic to my plight and could not understand why I was quite cheerful. I told her about the amazing support network I am surrounded by, and what a great oncologist I have. The Dental Surgeons attitude changed considerably once he spoke with Dr. Hedley. Interesting how we need validation for some things. Anyways, I have to see the surgeon sometime betweem the 14th and 18th of January.

Dr Hedley’s nurse, Shahnaz called to make sure I am OK. How sweet is that?

Diana and kids came over on Christmas Eve. Diana even brought the meal. What fun. A very pleasant evening indeed.

Still have my head of hair. Thinner. Who can really tell though???

Sitting in Judgement

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Dec 252009

Sitting in Judgment

Why do we insist on sitting in judgment of others. All the time.

We used to have to fill out these smile sheets when I was teaching a lot. It was a means for everyone to judge the instructor. Not the student. Just the instructor. They were ridiculous things. I researched the topic and discovered that they are totally meaningless. Notice I changed the tense of the sentence to the present from the past. They were useless then and they are useless now. We had to fill one out for the Art Therapy Moderator. Stupid things.

The research I did revealed some interesting bits of information. Amongst them is how quickly we make up our minds about each other. The first five minutes are crucial, and there is little you can do about it. This means that the students who are about to spend the next 8 hours with you have decided whether you are a nice guy or not by the time you have finished saying good morning. Nothing to do with your teaching skills. Stupid smile sheets.

I have read all sorts of things, including those theories of the 30 second elevator pitch. The theory is that you should be able to pitch your story to anyone in the time it tales to ride an elevator. Why in the world would you want to do this? Your story has surely more value than a 30 second pitch, and to a stranger at that. I realise that the idea is to be succinct. To have a clear understanding of what it is you do. Noting wrong with that. This theory just adds to the 30 second attention span that we are all developing. Short snippets of information, a la Tweet, as opposed to delving more deeply into a subject, or a company, or a person.

The actress Brittany Murphy died the other day. Young, beautiful, blond, and a Hollywood star. I had never heard of her. Read about it in the Globe and Mail. The paper allows people to register with them and add comments to all their stories. There always appear to be a number of people who have nothing better to do than entertain us with their inane opinions. None were positive, other than the few who offered some sort of condolences. Most were convinced that she had drug problems, and died of an overdose or further complications from the Hollywood lifestyle. One went so far as question whether the drug was cocaine or not. This at a time when no one was reporting much. The police were mute while they investigated, the family was not saying anything, and nor was the hospital. Turns out she died of a heart attack.

We all say things without knowing all the facts. We talk from a point of authority whether or not we know what we are talking about. We feel compelled to make sure everyone knows our opinion as misguided as it turns out to be. Making comments anonymously online does little to alleviate the situation.

I was reading an article in the Globe and Mail about Health Care. People felt free to judge others and their health related issues. If only people took better care of themselves, there would be fewer sick people in the world. No facts. No knowledge of the circumstances surrounding people’s health issues. I had to write in, asking that people not judge so quickly when they have little knowledge of the facts. In fact, the older I get, the more I realise that we feel free to make comments on subjects that we have little knowledge of.

I listen to the CBC. They have a number of call in shows. I have called in once. Never again. We all talk from a point of ignorance. Regarding eHealth, $1 Billion wasted. Not true. There was a lot of very fruitful work done. We will only know how much was wasted once a full audit is carried out. In the meantime stop talking about it. I read an article that talked about the simplicity of creating a database for eHealth. Ignorant columnist. Databases are difficult to create. Specially one that has to be scalable to meet the needs of about 13 million people. Let us use the system pioneered in Alberta they say. Articles have pointed out the shortcomings of the Alberta system, and how it will not meet the needs of Ontario. Alberta has 3 million users. Pay no heed, keep talking from a position of blissful ignorance.

And so we judge. She is too fat, too skinny, too blond, not blond enough. And so it goes.

Every comment you make about someone is derided by others as being judgmental. Specially if it is negative. Chinese are bad drivers. I am not allowed to say that anymore in front of Janet. It is derogatory. But saying something positive about the Chinese is OK. They are great business people. Janet and I had a long discussion about this. It does not help that we live around the corner from a Chinese community. I asked her why we are considered judgmental when we say something negative, but not something positive. I am still waiting for an answer. I am puzzled by this.

A close friend once remarked about how quickly I come to conclusions about people. She put it down to the extensive traveling and displacement our family has gone through. I did not say much about it. Seemed to make sense. Except that we make up our minds in the first 5 minutes. I was not so unusually speedy after all. I do make up my mind quickly. So does the rest of my family. We come across as harsh and judgmental. Give them time to prove themselves. How much time? What does proving oneself mean? Why do they have to prove themselves to me? Does this mean I have to prove myself to others? Why? Prove what? To what end?

The only person who can judge us is ourselves. Even then, we are poor at it. We often undermine our own capabilities. We waste a lot of time and energy on judging one another and people we do not even know.

I go shopping with Janet a lot. She does the shopping. I take pictures, or engage in a favourite activity. People watching. I am fascinated by people. The way they walk, talk, stand, sit. How women can rarely pass by a mirror without adjusting their hair. The body language is amazing. The insecurities, even in this very public domain, is flabbergasting. We are very uneasy in our own bodies. This appears to be true regardless of culture, I see the same things in other cultures when we go traveling. Every once in a while, you see someone who is very sure of themselves. It is like a breath of fresh air. They tend to stand straight, head held high, walk with confidence, and are oblivious to those around them. No one matters but them.

We are complex individuals.

Picture of the Week - December 25, 2009

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Dec 252009

Man Made – Man Polluted

This picture was taken in the ravine located at St Clair and Mount Pleasant in Toronto.

Someone abandoned a computer monitor at the bottom left corner. Parts of the monitor moved the next day further downstream.

This ravine is part of an extensive system that makes up this city. Parts of it are man-enhanced as is this part. The trick, of course, is to tell where the water line is. Short of putting an arrow, I can do little to help with that. The refelction of the overhanging trees should help.

Location: Ravine at St Clair and Mount Pleasant, Toronto.

Someone abandoned a computer monitor at the bottom left corner. Parts of the monitor moved the next day further downstream.

Tara, My Darling

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Dec 242009

A hearty congratulations on your wedding

May your wildest dreams be fulfilled

May you flourish emotionally

May you grow intellectually

May the flowers bloom in the garden of your love

May the angels sing sweet music in your heart

May the powers of the universe shower you with love and kindness

Ya Baha’ul’Abha

God Bless.

Short Temper

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Dec 212009

I found myself being really short tempered for a couple of weeks. It seemed to pass once the Neulasta kicked in. Maybe there was a connection?

The effects of life on the brain and emotions is staggering. I am not sure if those are the right expressions, but it seems you sometimes have little control for what goes on in your head and how it manifests itself. Everyone around you is really careful not to say anything that might upset me. Yet, there it is, the short temper coming out when the phone rings and people say stupid things to you.

One of my pet peeves is the security questions that people like Hydro ask you. What is your name? And now for security reason, we have to verify some information. Your address, postal code and phone number. All three pieces of information are public. Open the phone book. All there. Hardly security questions. I found myself getting more upset than usual at these inane questions. Also at sales people calling from Florida trying to sell me new doors and windows. Insane.

The honeymoon is over. This is a bit like a marriage. At some point you wake in the morning and realise a new normal has set in. Like it or not, this is your new life. Adjust. Get on with it.

I am not in any way, shape, or form, minimizing my plight and the chronic condition I am in. The past two weeks have really brought home the fact that it this is the future. We have to get on with our lives. This means that Janet has to get out more often. People have to be a bit less careful around me. I have to get accustomed to going for naps in the afternoon. I went for a drive this morning to buy bread and stuff for the house. Drove Leslie to her dinner party in the evening. I can do these things, and come home in one piece.

I am not being rushed to hospital for anything. I am as healthy as a cancer patient can be. My immune system appears to be very strong in spite of the cancer. No, it is not easy, but this is the new life. A combination of hospital visits to see Doctors, or get treatments. Then a week of good strong health.

The mother of one of Leslie’s friends died the other day. The mother of one of Janet’s cousins died the other day as well. Somehow, these episodes appeared more dire to me than what I am going through. Seems strange to say this, but all of a sudden, I thought, how terrible. My life went into the background. Theirs seemed so much more important.

I am making plans. Thinking of the future. It’s all good. Not that much energy to carry things out, and a bit scared about that. How can you start a project and do it only every two weeks? But there are options, and most of them can be done online.

Option 1. Become a WordPress expert of some sort. Create themes and plugins that I can sell to others. Maybe set up blog s for people. Others are doing it, and I can to. Certainly fits in nicely with my background. I just need to gain some expertise in WordPress. There are lots of books out there. Also need to become better at markting the blogs. But all that comes with practive and a lot of reading.

Options 2. Become a therapist of sorts to help others with chronic conditions. Take some online courses.

Option 3. A lot of people are pushing me into the art world. Daryl just bought me a wonderful water colour paint set, including paints, brushes, and paper. Included in the package is a free course from her sister who is a painter of some repute. I could become a painter, and incorporate my pictures, and maybe even some calligraphy. The possibilities are endless.

Al I need now is the courage of my convictions to do something. I cannot carry on like this for very much longer. The healthier I get, the more urgent is the need to do something, anything. Word Searches can only help so far.

One more thing, I have not shaved my head yet. It is thinning out, but there is still so much of it, that most people cannot tell I am losing it. For now, the hair stays.

The Week That Was - Ended December 18, 2009

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Dec 182009

Our friends came over for dinner last Friday night. We brought in food from Riz, always wonderful and tasty. Unfortunately, Daryl who organised the evening came down with stomach flue and could not come. We had a great time. I monopolised Judith all night which was wonderful.

My back had started hurting in the afternoon. This is listed as a possible side effect of getting Neulasta. The pain was not so bad. I went to bed around 9, and the pain was getting worse. I took a couple of Tylenol 1s, just so I could get to sleep. Woke up every four hours to take more Tylenols. The process lasted about 30 hours. This was the most painful back pains and the strangest experience I have gone through.

At the risk of offending some of you, it felt like someone had put firecrackers up my ass. Once lit, my hips would start this uncontrollable surge rising off the chair in spasms. Janet could not stop laughing when she saw it happen. It takes about an hour for the Tylenols to kick in. In the meantime, the lower back pain had started to spread up toward the middle back. This was a bone pain as opposed to a muscle pain. Heating pads did not work. But the Tylenols did.

I woke up on Sunday morning at 4Am, about an hour late for my Tylenols. No pain. I got up and went downstairs, ate something and just reveled in a pain free life. Janet and I discussed this a bit further in the morning and wondered whether this was the Neulasta finally kicking in. I spent Sunday full of energy but tired from teh previous day. Monday confirmed that the Neulasta was finally working. Only took a week.

I spent Monday and Tuesday just doing things. I had energy. I went shopping. I did not nap in the afternoons, except for about 30 minutes around 5PM. Lasted longer in the evenings. Good times.

Wednesday started in such exciting fashion. Blood work followed by the last Art Therapy Session, which I have already covered. I went for Christmas lunch at David’s office. Did not last very long, but it was good to see everyone. Went home after for a well deserved rest.

Thursday was chemo day. I was a bit apprehensive hoping for an increased white blood cell count. I was confident that it had gone up based on my energy level. Sure enough, the count jumped from 0.9 to 8.4. We arrived at the Chemo Daycare at 8:30, and had to wait till 9:30 to be taken in. Left there all done around 12:20. I am handling the chemo a lot better than previous sessions. Next chemo is set for December 30.

In the meantime I have a tooth that has to be removed surgically. I am seeing the dental surgeon on Tuesday. They will have to decide whether the operation is possible or not, or whether there will be too much bleeding. Avastin makes bleeding a dangerous option.

Chemo tires you out. There is no other word for it. Stayed home all day Friday. Thinking of going out tomorrow afternoon.

Janet is off work till January. We might go to a matinee one day. Looking forward to that. And oh yes, we need a new vacuum cleaner. Our old one is now about 25 years old, hated and despised by all. I asked the salesman what makes a good vacuum cleaner. His answer was suction. So I bought this thing that has had amazing suction. But all good things come to an end.

Life is so exciting, no?

Picture of the week - December 18, 2009

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Dec 182009

Soho, New York

Graffiti appears in all places and is usually a sign of neglect and dereliction. The area was not derelict, or neglected. The building to either side are newly renovated. I took several shots of this building, setting up a tripod to make sure there was no hand jitter. After the third shot, this couple showed up, the guy basically ordering the girl to sit in the frame so he could take her picture. A very strange situation.

Stuff like this happens all the time. People either do not understand why you are taking a picture, or want to get in on the act. Too funny.

Date: 2007

Location: Soho District, New York City

Stuff like this happens all the time. People either do not understand why you are taking a picture, or want to get in on the act. I was pondering a picture when we were traveling in Barcelona. I set up the camera and was deciding whether to take the picture or not. Deciding finally that I could not do justice to the subject with the camera I was using. This was an old film camera. The kind of thing that makes you look more professional than you actually are. I heard this woman behind me suddenly cry out that she wanted to take a picture of the building as well because I was. Too funny.

Art Therapy - Session 7

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Dec 162009

The final session.

4 people showed up.

We had to do 2 paintings.

The first:

Love

Paint what your holding on to. The first step was to write down what I felt I am holding on to. Not as easy as I thought it would be. Do you just think of the positive things, the negative things. Are you actually holding on to the negative things, or trying to get rid of them? I made a list, deciding that your are hopefully getting rid of the negatives, holding on to the positives.

Love, Relationships, Faith.

Now what? The final answer. The painting above. The relationship as evidenced by nature living together. The nourishing sun, the mighty tree strong of trunk, providing shade for the grass and the flowers that thrive in its shadow. A central strength protecting the more frail. Someone asked about the flowers on the right being different from the ones on the left. I got tired of painting individual blotches and took a wild fancy tot he easy way out. Nothing symbolic there. What about the open space on either side of the trunk. Unless you are talking about a willow tree, there is always white space on either side of a tree trunk. Nothing symbolic there either. The moderator loved this and saw all sorts of deep meanings in it. That felt kind of good.

The second:

Amulet of Light

We were asked to paint one last time and give the painting as a gift to the person on our right. This was the gift given me.

This represents one of those things that heroes in movies hurl at the enemy in the hopes of witnessing total annihilation. It is very pretty and quite cool.

This one was easy for me. I painted a big blue canvas with a green ribbon around it, and a touch of red on the ribbon. This went to my friend of the anxiety attacks. As I said, too easy.

We had a pot luck of sorts. Difficult to have a pot luck between the hours of 10 and 12. One person brought a salad. The rest of us brought sweets, shortbread cookies, brownies, lemon tarts, and my Iranian nuts and Baghlava.

Nothing deep was discussed. It was a light morning.

One person drew a bunch of boxes in various colours representing the pack rat that she is collecting all sorts of stuff. She is gradually learning to let go of things. Cleaning the basement. Throwing things out. What an effort that is.

Another painted a bunch of flowers each representing an emotion. Red rose for love, purple iris for hope, bluebells, and daisies. I did not take notes, so I forget what those represented. The daisy was very bright. The bluebells sweet, fragile, and pretty. Finally, a large bush of thorns. An obvious one. The thorns were paler than the other flowers. A fading past, with the other flowers representing a more optimistic future.

The last person painted something very abstract which I cannot begin to describe. She went on at length about the colours fading into one another, but I was not clear what any of it represented, and no one else appeared to be very clear either. A big was made about the right side versus the left side of the painting. She said she is holding on to herself. Letting go of her anger.

That is about all there is to say.

Poems

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Dec 152009

I have been sent a couple of poems of late and thought it appropriate to share them with you. The first is courtesy of Daryl Aitken, the second from Doug Miller.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Poem by Billy Collins, poet laureate

Dharma

The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.

End

My thanks to all.

Self Worth

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Dec 142009

I am a useless git.

I have little worth anymore.

I lie around all day, barely able to do anything.

I am always tired, sleeping, doing stupid word searches. A load on society to say nothing of my friends and family.

I can barely contribute to conversations, in an intelligent way.

I certainly cannot do any work. Takes me ten times longer to do things now than it did before the operation.

Life is meaningless.

Is this all there is?
Wake up in the middle of the night to clean the bag?
Or wake up every four hours to take diarrhea pills?
Or wake up every hour to burp the damn stupid bag?

Waiting to see what new side effect is going to strike next.
Popping pills to kill any upcoming pain.
Listen to your voice running at half mast.

Surely there is more to life than this?

What is the purpose of all this suffering. Not me, but all the people who have chronic conditions?
Those who can barely get out of bed.
Those who lie in bed in wait of some sort of resolution. Some relief.

We are no longer the person we thought we were?
Who are we?

What is the point?

I am not sure there is a point as such. I am not suicidal or anything. At my deepest depression, I am still positive and look forward tot he next day.

But the question of what is the point is a troubling one. There does not appear to be a clear answer. Leslie and I had a long conversation about this. At one point she made a very interesting point. Someone suffered a great deal to bring us into this world. We owe that person to make something of our lives.

That in itself is enough to make life worthwhile.

You spend your life doing whatever it is you do. Waking up in the morning and going through your routine. Some less boring than others. I cannot help but think of a woman in a country like India who wakes up in the morning to go get water from the single source that is available in her neighbourhood. She carries the pail of water back to her house. Carrying a pail of water is no mean task. The water spills all the way back.

This woman does this every day. She has to get to the water before the tap is shut off. No water if she gets there too late. Then what? This routine is repeated every day. Her stove burns wood. It is located indoors and will eventually pollute her lungs. Would you want this life?

Half a world away, we shop oblivious to the fate of so many. This is not a criticism. This is just the way life is.

We went to Swaziland in 1999 to bury my father. My sister and I would go shopping in the local area. I spoke with one of the sculptors selling those carvings of animals. There are a lot of these people peppering the countryside. I had a number of questions for him. where does he get the wood from? How long does it take to carve a piece? The usual questions to ask.

The wood, ebony, is getting harder to find. It comes from a particular area of Swaziland that is to be flooded when a dam is finally built. The wood will then come from a place like Madagascar and will cost more. It will also be more difficult to provision. The government did not change their mind about the flooding of the valley. Takes a couple of days to make a carving, a couple more days to polish and finish the product A week’s work which he then sells to us for maybe $5 to $10. That is before we start bargaining so as not be ripped off.

We fly back to our mansions in Canada.

We took a trip to the South of France. I was looking at some table cloths and asked the guy selling these things about the availability of larger sizes. Without batting an eyelash, he asked if I come from Canada. Why yes, why do you ask? You guys live on Ocean Liners – a paquebot. It is almost embarrassing when you think about the amount of space we have at our disposal. Stuff we take for granted. Living in our mansions in Canada.

Some people living in third world countries do not know if they will get to work or not. They stand at the side of the road waiting to be picked up by someone driving a pick up truck. This is as good as public transportation gets. They do not get to work if no one picks them up. They probably worry all day about getting home after a full days work.

We talked to a guy in Costa Rica who walks to work every morning. Takes him one hour. The roads are not necessarily paved.

We get to drive to the corner store. Walk an hour to get to work? Get real. We live in mansions in Canada. Drive Ocean Liners.

Life is beautiful. Look around you. The guy in Costa Rica was not complaining about his life. The girl trying to get to work in Honduras was not complaining about her life. The guy in the South of France was not complaining about his life.

I lie in bed sometimes and look out of the window at the tree swaying in the wind. It is always so beautiful Radiant with all its leaves in the summer, barren and ghostly in winter, forming a silhouette against the sky. Beautiful in different ways at different times.

The picture of the week was taken at Danforth and Carlaw, in Toronto. A guy came out the back of one of the stores. He looked like a waiter. Taking a cigarette break. He asked me what I was doing. You get a lot of that when taking pictures. I told him I was taking pictures. Of what he says. Whatever. Garbage bins at the back of a restaurant are not picture making material, at least not to the waiter who takes them for granted.

We take beauty where we can find it. All we have to do is open our eyes.

Is life worth living? I think so. In spite of the bag.

Is it difficult? Sometimes. OK, lets not kid ourselves, very difficult when you have to deal with the unknown.

The biggest unknown when all is said and done is redefining who we are. We are no longer the person we thought we were. Whether we had an accurate picture of ourselves or not, we have to start redefining ourselves. We are 20 years old again. Except, we are not starting from scratch. Nor do we have the energy and recklessness of youth on our side. We now have fear and uncertainty. Almost a sense of being betrayed after years of hard work.

What is our worth? Not to society even, but to ourselves. There is a lot written abut identifying ourselves through our vocations. This appears to happen whether we like it or not. An introduction at a party that results in the line, So what do you do? I mean for a living, results in establishing our worth. I am a doctor elicits a different value than I am a garbageman. In a bizarre way, both vocations save lives. Without the garbageman, a city would stink and the risk of disease would grow daily.

In spite of our best intentions, we identify people through their vocations. We identify ourselves the same way. Even if it forms the basis for the start of a conversation, the question is invariably asked. Why not ask the person what their religious beliefs are? Or their political leanings? Too volatile for sure, but it would never enter our minds to ask any other question. What are your hobbies? Huh? The vocation question is the safest bet on which to start a conversation. Incidentally, my favourite answer was given me on a plane ride. The guy beside me sold buses. Those big buses like the ones Greyhound and stars use. I had to laugh. It never occurred to me that people actually sold those things.

Chronic conditions change things considerably. We are no longer identified by our vocation, but by our condition. What do you do? For a living I mean. I survive, and you? What would be a safe answer. The cancer reply makes people cringe. I have changed my status on my various social sites to Retired, or On Sabbatical. The first elicits questions from some people, while the second just means you are away for a short time and will be back. No questions. I think everyone should go on sabbatical every seven years or so. Good for the soul.

A vocation. No longer Farokh the computer guy. Though I must say I find it hard to leave that world entirely. How about Farokh the photographer? The writer? The therapist? The God I wish I knew!

I am reaching a lot of people through this blog. You, the readers, are gracing me with your patience and thoughts. You have provided me with a venue through which I can ponder and voice my concerns. This is invaluable. Does not provide many answers, mind, but we have time on our side. As strange as that sounds coming from someone with a chronic condition, we do have time on our side. In my case, at least a couple of years in which to decide what my next vocation will be.

Finding oneself, discovering the new person within, reassessing your value to society, all make for an interesting journey to embark on. Fearlessly. With an open mind.

Older Entries

The week that was - ended December 26, 2009

Sitting in Judgement

Picture of the Week - December 25, 2009

Tara, My Darling

Short Temper

The Week That Was - Ended December 18, 2009

Picture of the week - December 18, 2009

Art Therapy - Session 7

Poems

Invictus

Poem by Billy Collins, poet laureate

End

Self Worth

My Pictures

Recommended Reading

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