My very loving sister mused out loud one day, that there may be reason to think that I should not be alive given the rampaging nature of my cancer. Two pieces of my colon are gone, as is a small section of the small intestine. It was touching the bladder, so a small piece of that is also gone. Meanwhile I still gave cancer cells in my pelvic area, both lobes of the liver, and legions in one of my lungs. The cancer has made itself quite at home. My sister may not be wrong, and she did not make the comment to make me sad or angry or anything. It was a comment that commended me on my positive attitude that had carried me through this far defying the odds.

What is positive thinking? The book, the Secret, talks about it as concentrating really hard on a topic to invoke the powers of the universe. In the latest stuff I have been watching, the videos of Dr. Bruce Lipton, it involves the ability of changing the very nature of your cells and genes.

You get fired from a job and can see new doors opening before you. Don’t worry, it was a lousy job anyways, better times are ahead. A storm rips your house apart, and you can see renovations coming up. Time for that new bathroom you were dreaming of. and the insurance company gets to pay for some of the repairs. A cup half full at all times. There is a cartoon in one of the New Yorker magazines of a guy going through the desert, obviously dying from lack of water and all he sees are a bunch of glasses of water that are half empty. I am not sure how this link will be good for.

I have always been a cup half full type of person. Very few things have taken me down so completely as to be powerless. But the above examples are easy to talk about. What constitutes positive thinking when you have cancer?

Is it a question of thinking the condition into submission? Surviving for longer than expected? Smiling and laughing your way to your inevitable demise some point in the future? Making light of the pain, the discomfort, the disruption of your life and that of other around you? What is thinking positive in relation to cancer or any other chronic condition? Will the condition go away?

Everything I come across on this subject seems to believe that we can make changes to either our environment or our bodies through the mind. If that were the case, I would suggest we all put our minds together on Monday morning at 9:00AM and think about child poverty and it will go away. It will be solved. Let us wake up every morning and concentrate really hard on our bodies to never get ill. To live longer and healthier. If the mind were truly in charge, we should be able to accomplish all these feats in a flash. No more poverty, pollution, murder, hunger and any other ailment that plagues the world at the moment. To say nothing of the end of chronic conditions. We would just use our mind sets and prevent them from happening in the first place.

Baha’is in a number of Islamic countries are being persecuted. Baha’is in Iran particularly are vilified and persecuted beyond reason. Elected leaders are jailed regularly. Their assets are confiscated. They are charged with being spies for Israel. Our headquarters are in Haifa, Israel. They were moved there when the area was under Palestinian rule. We are not spies. Our statues forbid our participation in local politics. Egypt has issued national identification cards without which you can rent apartments, get jobs, open bank accounts and so on. You basically cannot live without one. They have listed only three religions on the cards, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. The Baha’is took the government to court. They are effectively asking us to lie about our Faith. We requested that another option be added: Other. The request was refused, the court case lost. We are persona non-grata.

Whenever Baha’is are put in jail, we are asked to participate in a version of group prayers. The prayers take place in the privacy of your own home, but we are all asked to pray at a particular time, on a particular day in the hope that the power of all the prayers being said at the same time would invoke some sort of mercy for those jailed. My positive side says that maybe the prayers are working as things could be worse for the prisoners. On the other hand, none have yet been released.

Reality seems to dictate that there appear to be other powers at play. Powers beyond our us. Beyond our ability to influence them in any way. I was sure I would not get cancer. My mother died of it, but none of my siblings were affected. Yet here i am dealing with the condition. I am told that part of my success at dealing with things, the lack of huge Chemo side effects all have to do with positive thinking.

I know I have a good attitude. I am laughing a lot, joke around, and generally try to make the best of it. I keep telling people you have two choices to make, you can happy or sad. I tried the latter. It did not work for me. I am going to be happy as this condition evolves. Think of it this way. I want to make the best of the remaining years. Whatever time I have left, be it 2, 5, 10 years or more. Does not matter. I have a limited amount of time to spend with my wife, son, family and friends. We all deserve to make the best of it. We will talk about everything. Life and death. Good things and bad. The discussion is important. The conversations vital.

It is also vital that we be happy through it all. Is that positive thinking? Will it stop the spread of the cancer? I doubt it. Is that a negative expression creeping in? Not really. But we, collectively, wife, son, family, and friends will make the best of the remaining time.

Little value, that is, until someone else comes along and sees something in the research that warrants a further look. The research is taken to another level, until someone, somewhere, brings the research to a useful end.

There are more of these examples that we know about. PostIt notes are, supposedly the result of researching the solution to one problem and coming up with the notes that we all know and love today. A number of items we take for granted in the computer industry were invented and shelved. The inventors found little value in the objects. The mouse, Ethernet connectivity that the web runs on, the Graphical User Interface (GUI) used in all major operating systems, were invented at the Palo Alto Research Center (PARC) owned and operated by Xerox. The brilliant scientists and thinkers employed at PARC kept inventing, but no one commercialized their products.

It tool someone like Steve Jobs who borrowed their inventions, most notably the mouse and GUI to create the MAC. A bit of, are you using this? Do you mind if I take it? No please, go right ahead. It tool IBM to capitalize on the computer by taking it one step further. They commissioned their engineers to come up with a personal computer using off the shelf components. No new inventions. As expensive as they original PCs were, this kept the price down.

I was the Marketing manager at a hardware and software distributor called Ingram Micro. We are going back many years here, pre Web. We had a meeting with Seiko, a company that is much larger than meets the eye. After all was said and done, one of the engineers showed us a touch screen that would run on a MAC. You might take touch screens as a given, specially with the popularity of the iPhone. You have also all seen them used in restaurants and others locations. Touch screens were a rarity in those days. Their performance was spotty and people were just beginning to let their imaginations wander to see what they could do with these. We all looked at the yellow screen and thought it was cool and wonderful. It worked quite well. None of us could imagine what it could be used for. Nor could the engineers at Seiko. We have not heard of the product since.

You are all familiar, by now, with Bluetooth, the technology that allows you to connect your smart phone to the ear piece. Bluetooth was originally created to offer a secure wireless connection between two devices in close proximity to one another, no more than 7ft, about 2m. The technology now boasts a range of over 300ft, 100m. The rules for technologies such as Bluetooth are set by a consortium. These rules are updated on a regular basis. The Bluetooth consortium was revising their rules to upgrade the technology. They were approached by a manufacturer of chemicals who suggested that one of the proposals who get in the way of a device being used by the chemical company.

This came as a surprise to all in the room. What would a manufacturer of chemicals have to do with Bluetooth? This was a technology developed for computers. It turns out that the chemical company had developed these very small balls that contained a thermometer and a Bluetooth transmitter. They would drop these in the vats of chemicals and could tell what the core temperature of the vats were. Essential information when creating these mixes. Linear thinkers meet lateral thinkers.

I would theorize that linear thinkers are mostly doers, while lateral thinkers are, well mostly thinkers connecting disparate dots. There are always crossovers. People who have a leg in each camp.

One always starts wondering at some point how these stories will relate to what I am going through. Here goes.

I am now taking part in a clinical trial run by Dr Robert Buckman. This is being done with the blessing of Dr Hedley. I am the only colon cancer patient in the group. Everyone wants to know the names of the drugs i am taking. I showed the list to someone recently. They were surprised that none of the drugs are new. Dr Buckman has taken existing drugs and decided on an alternate use for them, changing doses and treatments. Meet Dr Buckman,the lateral thinker.

The success or failure of the idea is rarely the issue. Success of a medical clinical trial is obviously a desirable outcome. Time will tell on this one.

The other side is the amazing support of friends and relatives. The good side.

We spent last weekend visiting friends and taking full advantage of their hospitality. Saturday was spent on the shores of Lake Simcoe. Janet’s cousin Deena, rents a cottage on Lake Simcoe every year. We spend a day visiting. Her brother Bryan and family come up as well, as does Eva. All good making for a small family get together. I had a good chat with David Margolese whose company I always enjoy.

We spent Sunday and Monday at the Fraser farm taking full advantage of the company and space. The Frasers were all there, including the delectable and always charming Ceilidh.

Heather Fraser is doing some very interesting work in all kinds of places. We talked (again) about the work of one of her friends. A Dr. Robert Buckman. He, the Doctor, theorizes that we are better off treating cancer by slow doses of Chemo instead of the current methods of bombarding the body with a huge dose of the drugs. The theory is that the cancer cells start dying when bombarded, but soon retreat, in effect removing the threat. The magic happens once we stop treating the body to the cancer drugs. At this point the cancer cells return in full force attacking the body with renewed viguour.

The slow treatment allows the body to be treated with low doses of the Chemo drugs, in effect fooling the cancer cells into thinking nothing is happening, that they are not under attack. This treatment lulls the cancer cells allowing for a more prolonged attack. The current trials have been done on breast cancer patients. The treatments are called DalCM-P. Goolge it, or read this article. I have an appointment with Dr. Buckman this coming Thursday.

I have started my Chemo vacation in a very slow mode. I have been away from my computer for a few days, which is very unusual for me. I have a lot of projects on the go, but find myself in some sort of a limbo state. Still trying to come to terms with all the unsaid words about why we are on vacation. I am eternally positive in my outlook, yet cannot help but wonder about the future.

People insist on telling me that they could die early when they get hit by a bus. I finally found a link that talks about the possibilities of ending your life with said method. As my friend Stone remarked, it is not a competition. If people insist on getting hit by a bus, they are more than welcome to go before me.

I am also receiving information about alternative treatments. More specifically, two people have written me with information on Y-90, an isotope based treatment directed at liver cancer. It is also used for treating metastasized cancer that are now affecting the liver. Items for discussion with Dr. Buckman.

I have not been interested with the type of cancer that is afflicting me until now. The rare occasion when the question has come up has resulted in me answering with something to the effect that I have the type of cancer that eventually kills you. A lot of the remedies I am reading on the web refer to very specific types of cancer that are affected by the treatments. It might be beneficial for me to know what type of cancer I do have to make sense of the articles I am reading.

The amount of information is mind blowing and very confusing. Following the idea that each body is different and reacts differently to everything adds to the confusion. There are cases of people who have been removed from treatments that have survived. People given 6 months who have lived for a lot longer. The comments of people who have tried certain remedies and are waxing poetic about it can also be misleading. Are they genuine? What was their affliction? None of it is corroborated with statements from reputable hospitals or clinics or doctors. We will believe anything that we think will cure us, however absurd it may sound.

How to differentiate between the absurd and the items that make more sense. Does the guy who claims that eating hot peppers on bread with garlic for two weeks make sense? A pepper based diet will rid you of cancer in two weeks he says. That diet will also be rid of me in less time. He just might be right though. Do I throw caution to the wind and attempt his remedy? The temptation is there, going against all common sense.

The next few weeks will see me working on a few projects. I will attempt to make my camera bag. Finish at least one of the two web sites I am working on. Maybe render my new kitchen to paper, as well as the new design for the back yard. All these things take time and concentration. I ams till sleeping in the afternoons. For longer periods than before the vacation. These get in the way of the projects. Do as the body tells.

Time to see the psychologist.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for your thoughts, support, and prayers.

Take a couple of months off to reassess the situation.

Ponder the meaning of life.

Start working on all my projects.

Keep away from the routine of the hospital.

Janet was talking the other day about this situation. You start on this adventure in a bit of a daze. You ask a bunch of questions. According to Janet I was asking my fair share of questions. Except that I was repeating my questions. I was getting answers and repeating the same questions. As I said, in a bit of a daze.

You acquiesce to the advice given by the doctors. Specially if you like them. They seem to know what they are doing. Dr. Heldey has a huge collection of articles to his credit. Surely, he knows a lot of stuff about colon cancer and its metastasized state. He is very reassuring. All we can do is follow his advice.

There is a lot of talk of alternatives to the traditional medicines. There are no proofs, just a lot of information. It is very hard to sift through all the information. We have discovered that you tend to make sense of the information as time goes by, as the need arises to make sense of things. So much of the information is anecdotal. We have no idea if people are responding to the medication, the alternative choices, or not.

I have always maintained that I will not live just for the sake of living. I will not go through a regime that seems to be more work than it is worth. What price is life worth living for? All this work and you live an extra two years. Is it worth it? Probably to the people around you, but not for the person going through the chronic condition. At least not to this one. I keep reading about people going through all sorts of programs to live longer. Why the compulsion to live at any cost?

The health network has looked after me for the past year. Diagnosis, operation, Chemo. Everyone looking after the chronic. With a smile, a laugh and a hug. You, the chronic are being looked after by all these people. The chronic is not doing anything, while things are done to him. We are a bit powerless. Go to the hospital, give blood, get Chemo. Make sure you have taken your drugs before the Chemo. Go home, sleep, rest, make the best of the situation.

We have to move now from having things done to us to deciding what we need to do for ourselves. We have to follow through with some of the stuff we have been reading about. Make sense of all the messages we are getting. Again, sift through everything and make decisions.

I find the situation very confusing. Again not sure if that is the right word. I have a lot of projects to work through, a lot of time to figure things out.

I am not talking about construction projects, or the installation of a furnace. We moved into our house 11 years ago. Our furnace seemed to have trouble keeping the house warm. The air conditioner that was highly praised by the previous owner was barely useful. Nothing more than an air circulator. I talked with the representatives of about 6 different furnace manufacturers. Like most industries. there are very few actual manufacturers. What looks like a diverse field is dominated by a few companies that market several brands. All claimed to have the best unit on the market and cited one item that distinguished them from the others.

One had an electronic ignition which they claimed was useful in that it was more efficient. Do not need a pilot light. Just saved myself $10 a year. Another had an anti-static drum that would prevent the accumulation of dust on the air intakes. Fantastic feature guaranteed to work for three years at least. Another had a 12volt fan which could stay on for ever circulating the air around the house. Highly useful. I guess. I came away from the exercise more confused than when I went in.

We finally replaced our furnace about three years ago. We hired the same contractor this year to install our central air without going fro a second opinion. We trust the contractor. He did a stellar job the first time, and again now.

One of my cousins visited me recently. One of the first things she asked is whether I was having liver surgery. No, I said, no such plans. She suggested I might want to go to Germany for said operation. It would only cost about $2,000. I should not rely on the opinion of my one doctor here. She understands that we are living with the constraints of universal health care. They often will not perform operations or provide other services to save money. I should not let that hold me back. Germany has wonderful services.

I accused her of having Health Care prejudices. This opened a whole other set of issues which I will not go into, a waste of time.

This advice was given without having any idea about how our system works, or at least the system in this hospital. There is a panel of doctors who look after us. Major decisions are made by the panel, not the individual doctor. This is a truly amazing system. Not only do you get a second opinion, but you get five of them. By the time I was set for surgery, I had four separate opinions. Why go after another?

The situation gets more complicated. We do not appear to understand the why’s and wherefores of cancer. We do know that I do not have liver cancer, but colon cancer in the liver. Same situation in the lungs. I finally understand the meaning of metastasized cancer.

An operation of the liver is a waste of time. The cancer cells are busy in both halves of the liver. Taking one half out, letting the liver regenerate, means that the cancer will just travel from the other half back to the first.

Why in the world would I want to second guess my doctor anyways? What makes me think for a second that I know better than my doctor. Should I go to Germany for the operation, who will look after me post operation? I have an appointment to see my surgeon tomorrow morning. This is 9 months after the operation. We talk and make sure all is right. It is not a long meeting. Am I supposed to after another local surgeon look after my needs following an operation in another country? Does not make sense to me on any level.

We were told that we have the right to a second opinion at any time prior to the operation. We were told to feel free to go to the Mayo Clinic or anywhere else we thought might provide some additional information or help. No one here would hold that against us. After being in this system for a year, researching, reading and contemplating alternatives, I can say that the doctors appreciate it when you know more, when you take the time to educate yourself and take charge of your destiny. At least my doctors do.

I think a second opinion is required because we do not like or trust the first opinion. We are hoping that the bad news is not as bad as it appears to be and want to hear a second voice.

I generally deal with people I trust. I trust my family doctor. We have been together for fifteen years and understand each other. She is a modern medicine woman, dispensing drugs to heal all. Anyone not comfortable with that should seek the advice of a traditional medicine person.

I trust my oncologist and his entourage. I trust my surgeon and her entourage. I am happy with the decisions taken. I will add resources as I see fit, as I can accept them, understand their significance.

Had an appointment to see the surgeon, Dr. Erin Kennedy. She was ecstatic. Have never seen her so amazingly cheerful. You look great she says. Have you seen your CT Scan report? Yes, we say, met with Dr. Hedley. Don’t pay any attention to it, she says. The increased size of the tumours is minor and to be expected. Ignore it and move on. She was positively bubbly over this.

We told her about the blood results that I posted earlier. Oh my God! The news gets better and better. She looked at my scar, which I must say looks remarkably good to me, and was even more excited. I have my hair, my scar is beautiful, my blood results positive. All is good with the world. She gets extra points.

Discussed the longer lasting effects of the last chemo. She is not surprised and mentions casually that the F5 chemo drug is cumulative. We should expect the effects to last longer. Great.

Next appointment on January. We will be seeing her for a long time.

Tuesday, Nov 24

Nothing really remarkable happened. I am tired, more so than usual. Slowly getting psyched up for the chemo on Thursday. Hopping that this week, the effects will not be so long lasting, in spite of what Dr. Kennedy says.

Wednesday, Nov 25

You have read all about that fateful day in my Art Therapy page. Devin picks me up from the Art Therapy session and we sometimes go out for lunch or something. I am too tired to go anywhere. We come home. I eventually do what I do every day, take a nap in the afternoon. Devin has to go to work. He plays the piano, plays on the computer, and finally goes. I spend the rest of the day reading articles, and doing my Word Searches.

Thursday, Nov 26

Drive Janet to work and myself to the hospital for blood work. Chemo is at 1:30. Doing my blood work at 9:00 means they will get it on time for the chemo session.

Drive over to Paulee’s house to pick up her dead computer to take to Steve’s. Her hard drive has crashed. It is fatal.

Go to the pharmacy to pick up my drugs. They do not have a renewable prescription. Call the Doctor and leave a message with the wonderful Susan, his assistant. She faxes the renewal over to the pharmacist, the equally wonderful Farrah who fills it right away. I go to Dash kitchens to grab a bite to eat while all this is going on. I am beginning to shake a bit from lack of food.

I call the Chemo Daycare unit before taking my drugs to see if chemo is a go or not. The nurse gives me a bit of a hard time until she recognises my name. Everything changes, and she is sweet as pie. No chemo this week. My white blood cell count has gone from 6.7 to 0.8 in one week. Too low for chemo.

I am very disappointed. You psyche yourself up for the drugs only to have them canceled. I have to go in to the daycare to have the pin removed from the Porta-Cath. The nurses are as cheerful as always.

On my way out, I run into an East European couple we met on our very first chemo session. She also has colon cancer and the requisite bag. She was waiting for her blood results. Her chemo was postponed the week before because of a low white cell count. I sat and talked with her for a while. She does not appear to have anyone to talk to about her cancer. We talked about the headaches that we get that feel like migraines. Tylenol has no effect on them. Only sleep seems to cure them. We talked about our continual exhaustion. She did not know that she could get her blood work done earlier in the morning, so she does not have to wait in chemo daycare for the results. She sounded tired. I hope I run into her again. Her husband is always with her.

Friday, Nov 27

This is my date day with Devin. He asked me what I wanted to do. I slept, virtually the whole day. I was exhausted. Not sure if it was the let down of not getting chemo or what. He went out to his club and ran a couple of errands. I stayed home. It was a truly bad day for me.

The only thing that happened to cheer me up was hearing from one of the participants of the Art Therapy session. We are now exchanging regular eMails. This is fantastic.

Nothing more to say about Friday.

Saturday, Nov 28

Miraculous recovery. Janet forced me out of bed. She did not have to try very hard. We decided that I have to force myself to get out of bed and do things. We went to the market and bought some food. It was great to see some of the merchants who know me. Big air hugs all around. Murray and his son Allen are particularly attached.

Came home and took a nap.

Went out later in the afternoon with Judy and Arlin to the Mercer Gallery to see an exhibit on advertising in magazines of the 60′s, 70′s and 80′s. It was very cool. Had coffee after and came home totally exhausted, but in a very positive way.

I cooked supper. Spaghetti with my patented tomato sauce. Delicious. Sorry for not inviting any of you. Maybe next time.

Sunday, Nov 29

Fetneh came for a visit. Always a welcome sight. We had a great time. And yes, I had to take a nap in the afternoon. I was exhausted by the time she left. I think I may have a recurring theme in my life. But again, a good and healthy feeling. We talked about all kinds of things.

Carys, my four year old niece was dropped off to spend the day with us. Paulee was going to a healthy living show. Carys is very shy and it her virtually the whole day to warm up to Fetneh. It was a delightful day. I played with Carys for a while, but could not keep up with her. Damn.

Janet spent a major part of the day with her Dad. Good thing. Glad Fetneh was here to keep me company.

All-in-all the weekend ended on a high note.

Devin and I drove Janet to work in the morning. We got to Wellspring about 30 minutes too early. We had a coffee and read the paper.

Art Therapy. I had no idea what to expect and decided to try really hard to keep an open mind. It was not difficult. Last time I had anything to do with painting or drawing was in boarding school in England. I had the dubious distinction of almost failing that class. I mean really, who “fails” at art class? There were too many other things going on in my life at the time, like surviving in an all-white school as the only coloured person. Minor issue.

The room was small with a large square boardroom table. The instructor was still setting things up after the 10AM start time. It really matters little. What else do we have to do? Places to be? The table was covered with a couple of pieces of rubber mats. The type that some people put on their dining room tables to protect the surface. I gather that it was the first time for everyone based on the reaction to the mat and the discussion regarding its fabric. This did not bode well. The mats were covered with dry paint from previous such classes. By the time the dust had settled, there were six women in the room and moi, the sole male. Perfect ratio.

About 35 years ago, in Montreal, I went out to dinner with a bunch of friends and my sister Fetneh. There were 8 of us, if I recall. The waiter kept giving me the hairy eyeball. I was starting to wonder if I knew the guy and had offended him somewhere. It suddenly occurred to me, as I looked around the table, that his look was more quizzical than hairy. He was wondering what a douche bag like me was doing with seven women. The harem, such as it was, consisted of my sister, my oldest friend Nahed Rushdy and a bunch of other platonically related people. Nahed and I grew up in Ethiopia. She pointed out to me the other day, that we have known each other since grade whatever in the 60′s. Just to say, I have been in this situation many times.

The assortment of people was varied. You have to understand that all the goings on at these sessions is strictly confidential. So you can’t just go and blab it out to everyone. You stand on notice. The lady sitting beside me also has colon cancer. Her surgery is done and she is mending. She was very sweet and gentle in her manners. She does not need chemo therapy, lucky her. We will talk more next week. I have to digress again.

I used to be a computer trainer.  I noticed at a particular point that people tend to sit in the same seats when they come back for more training. Does not matter if the training is at their location or ours. The person would come back for their second training day, be it a day, week, or month later, and make a bee-line for the seat they had occupied the last time they were there. They were also quite put out and almost disoriented if someone had beaten them to their seat. It is a very peculiar behaviour. Not sure what it means, or how you would go about studying it.

I am sure that we will all sit in the same seats next week. I might even go in a bit late to test this. The instructor set up the room. Lots of paper, bowls of paint of all the primary colours and a couple more, pails of crayons and chalk, markers of all colours. Once settled, we were given our instructions.

We are going to paint, and discuss our paintings with everyone else. No judgments, All positive. No matter that you cannot paint. Let the child within you rear its tempestuous head and take over. Relax. Cry. Put your hands in the paint if you want the tactile feel. Everything is confidential. No recriminations. We are all in the same boat. Cool.

Our first assignment: paint your name. Not necessarily literally, though that is what we all did, but what you feel your name represents. Are you happy with your name? Do you love or hate it? Does it evoke joy? Whatever. The lady next to me folded her sheet in half. These are large sheet measuring 24 by 18 inches. She was being practical since there was little room. I followed suit. I was also being practical. How could I possibly fill up that amount of space?

Some of us sat there looking pensive, trying to not look concerned over the fact that we really did not understand how you could paint your name. Most went ahead and wrote their names down in BIG letters and started to colour them in, adding more and more detail. I decided to draw my name in Persian, just to be a bit different. I can neither read nor write the Farsi language, but I can write my name. It is a complicated language, beautiful, lyrical, but complicated. I painted some grass at the bottom of the page, a tree on the right, and a giant sun above and to the left. My name was front and centre. The sun is shining on me. So many interpretations!

People revealed a bit of themselves in the paintings, which made for a very interesting session. One person drew a heart in which she drew the faces of her family. She cried when she told us what that was about, specially when she said she wants to live. Very poignant. Others added some elements of what they like to do around their names. Statements of fashion design, traveling (planes), and water. Lots of water all around. Seems water has a very calming effect on people.

One person had splotches of purple, and brown and various other colours all over the paper. It was all covered and looked a bit peculiar. Turns out it was her garden of lilac trees. Made perfect sense. You could see the garden come to life in all the splotches and stains covering the wrinkling paper.

Another drew a house with a path leading up to it. Her name was written inside in all its blazing glory.  She craved the safety of the roof over her head. She said she had no idea why she drew what she did, just came to her.

There was a fair bit of chatter, but nothing of any consequence. Strangely no one asked for an explanation of my choice of language. Devin thinks I should take up calligraphy. So I went out and bout some pens, paper and a book to see where it takes me.

The next assignment was to paint our safe place. This smacked a of of the meadow exercise in the relaxations and visualization session. Devin said I should have painted a swarm of mosquitoes. Not very safe. This one took a while. I have never really thought of a safe place. My bed? That is where I go when I am tired, or need to get away from everyone. But I would hardly call it a safe place. Specially when one of the cats decides that any time is good to lie on my stomach. What or where is a safe place? This one took a while. I watched as the others threw themselves into the project with great gusto. The person to my left, of the roof over her head fame, was also deep in thought. Another participant had closed her eyes and deep in thought. It turns out she was doing a deep breathing exercise and centering herself. Interesting concept.

So I sat there. The person to my left requested pencils to draw with. And so we sat, contemplating the safe place conundrum. My colon cancer partner had found a safe place of sorts. She watching the birds swooping in to their nests in the building across the driveway. They felt safe. She felt she had found something. I finally found mine.

Ramone Alones

The text which you can barely read says:
Nothing like a great Cuban cigar on a warm evening surrounded by friends and family enjoying the times, dinner, conversation.

My painting generated far more conversation than I expected. They wanted to know about cigars, do you inhale? What makes a cigar good? How much does a cigar cost? Do women smoke? The caption under the title: Ramon Alones reads: The ultimate Cuban cigar. 45 minutes of bliss. 45 minutes? Are you kidding me. Hence the safe place. Sit, smoke, enjoy the company and the moment.

One person drew a church, and her house, her garden, and family. Another her time at a cottage that she found peaceful under the radiant sun surrounded by water. Another drew reference to her cottage that always brings solace and peace. My colon cancer partner gave up on drawing the building across the way. Her drawing was the most moving for me. Her thinking evolved into drawing a bunch of rectangular boxes in a bit of a pelle mele from the top of the page to the bottom. Somewhere in the middle of the page, two of the boxes leaned against one another. She drew herself in the triangle that was created by the joining of the boxes. There was great emphasis on the person. She surrounded herself with more protection, dark lines that enclosed her in the space. She equated her safe place with somewhere to feel comfortable and warm, a place to make peace with yourself. I will have to spend a bit more time with her. She is proving vulnerable and terribly interesting.

This is a long post. There is more.

These paintings generated a lot of conversation. Not sure how much of it was intended or not. The instructor was content to let people speak their mind and comment. He was quiet through most of the banter. There was a great deal of respect amongst the participants. No recriminations or judgments. All talked and participated. I took a lot of notes.

How do you define a safe place? Is it internal or external? Mention was made of the people who get caught in disasters losing their homes and belongings. How distraught they are. Have they lost their safe place? Should they consider the material belongings as safe? Is it not better to internalize the safe place? That way you have with you always, taking it with you through good times and bad. Radiating from the inside out.

How do you deal with the well meaning people who surround you with the best of intentions? You keep having to explain yourself and what you are going through. People just don’t get it. They ask the same questions, over and over again. We are dealing with the pain, both physical and emotional, why don’t people understand? We are trying to remain optimistic as we travel this long journey, trying to forge a new identity, a new reason for being. Why don’t people understand? Relatives and friends, all well meaning who criticize you for having a messy house instead of pitching in to help. Why don’t they understand? Should we expect them to understand?

What expectations should we have of others? How do we get support mechanisms in place that would ease the pain? What role does religion play? Is it a panacea? Or a placebo? Giving you false hope and expectations? How does God talk to us?

We talked about making a connection with life, with the earth, digging your hands in the garden and feeling the soil.

Water was in three or four of the drawings and paintings bringing peace and tranquility to people’s souls. Water, vast, in constant motion, calming, at peace with itself.

A couple of people cried, albeit briefly, stifling back the tears and immediately apologising for it. Everyone was quick to offer them tissues. Why apologise? Of all places, this is the one where no apology is required. Don’t they know that we all cry? All the time? We apologise for all sorts of things.

I had a surprisingly good time at this session. It lasted over 2 hours. The instructor had a difficult time bringing it to an end. The group was not willing to let things go. I am looking forward to next Wednesday. Look forward to your comments.

I ran into some digestive problems in the middle of June 2009. Janet (my wife) was out of town on business, which was not a big deal at the time. Unfortunately, things have gone from bad to worse. This diary is an attempt to make sense of it all. I found it impossible to keep the blog up to date when this whole thing started. All entries were entered after the fact, or after the events had taken place. Some emotions may have crept in ahead of their time. The blog is up to date now, with entries occurring about once a week.

I was diagnosed officially with colon cancer on August 10, 2009. My operation took place on September 2, 2009. That is pretty speedy. And in these days of the U.S. discussing the benefits of public health care, it is important to highlight the speed with which the diagnostics were carried out, and the operation planned.