The hard week continues. Off to PMH to see the liver doctor. We wait for 2 hours. Notice I am not talking about anything that happened in the morning. Nothing happened in the morning. We did not exist.

We finally get in to see the doctor. But it is not Dr. Gallinger, but someone called Nanji, a Fellowe. We are waiting in the consult room, which the officious nurse did not lock. It turns out to be a longer wait than we expected. Janet looks at me and decides to get me something to eat. Dr. Nanji comes in soon after she leaves. We don’t cover that much ground before she comes back with a bean salad from Druxy’s. I am very hungry and apologise to the doctor for eating while he talks. Was not expecting a 2 hour delay or would have come prepared. Then a very strange thing happened. Not sure if it happened because I was so hungry, or what. The doctor gave us the prognosis. He had spoken with Dr. Kennedy the night before, had looked at the CT Scans and X-Rays. No doubt about what was going on. No need for a biopsy. As he is talking, I realise that I am extremely calm. Almost like an out of body experience. We must be talking about someone else. But I am fully aware that we are talking about me, but I am still eerily calm and composed. I keep eating and ask my questions.

Colon operation first, then chemotherapy. We have to remove the primary source to stop the cancer from re-infecting the liver. Chemotherapy first is used sometimes when there is a chance of reducing the size of the primary source. In my case, the primary source is too advanced. Chemotherapy treatment could provoke the tumour and it might burst. Told you there was a monster lurking inside. Cannot take a chance on the colon tumour bursting as it would really mess things up. Can you just imagine all that poo going everywhere inside your body? Yuk!

So we remove the primary source, then recover, then chemo the hell out of the body for two months to kill any lingering cancer cells that are in the bloodstream or elsewhere. Some of the cells are too small for us to see. The initial chemo will kill them all. It should also reduce the size of the metastasized cells on the liver. That is important because it affects the amount of the liver that has to be removed. The less we remove the better. No kidding! But both lobes of the liver are infected. The procedure will required the removal of some of the liver, then more chemo while the liver regenerates. Apparently, the liver regenerates in 6 to 8 weeks. That is so cool. Then the other section is removed and more chemo for 2 months. Basically a year of treatments. And again, not to worry, a 5 year survival rate is quite common. Whatever. That door is closed.

Suppertime by the time we leave. Not much happened for the rest of the evening. Eat, mope, sleep, cope.

This is a quiet day. We hang out, eat, talk. Friends write and call. Pretty much nothing of import takes place. We are getting ready for the next day, psychologically. Don’t think they are going to do much other than talk to us about what is coming up. We are numb. I think that is a recurring theme in our current lives. It keeps coming up again and again. I don’t mean to be boring, but we are numb a lot. Trying to figure things out.

Wake up with a smashing headache. So maybe the liquid diet is not so hot after all. Not allowed to eat or drink past midnight. Colonoscopy is at 1:00PM. Keep away from me, I am going to be grouchy all day. My sister called yesterday advising me to eat very little and carefully after the colonoscopy so as not to upset my stomach. Not eating much anyways.

Waiting for the appointment is torture. Low energy to begin with. Don’t feel like doing anything. Nothing worth watching on TV. We wait. Still numb and trying to assimilate the information from yesterday. 3 years. We will take a trip, or two. Where would you like to go? What would you like to do? These are party questions, and movie subjects. If you were stuck on a desert island, which one book would you take with you? (My answer is a book on ship building). But think about it, who plans to be stuck on a desert island in the first place? And so it is with questions of life and death. If you knew you had 6 weeks to live, what would you do? The answers change when reality stares you in the face.

Lets go to Africa. South America. Vietnam. No wait. Lets just stay home and be with our friends. Renovate the house. Create Eden in our back yard and enjoy our last days where we are most comfortable.

Time for the procedure. Janet drives. I am very quiet, mostly hunger and headache. But the weight of the moment is unbearable. We both have the same reaction to these moments, think of something else. Have to do the laundry when we get home. Clean the house. Shit, we are already at the hospital. Park the car, make our way in to the waiting room. Each hospital has its own character. So far, we have been to Toronto General Hospital (TGH), Princess Margaret Hospital (PMH), and now Western Hospital (no acronyms for this place). This one is very active. They have coffee shops and a food court. Located in a more run down neighbourhood, the newly renovated hospital attracts all sorts of people. There is lots of activity in the halls and corridors. Not like people waiting, but people hustling and bustling around. Does not even feel like a hospital. Until we get to the colonoscopy room.

No waiting. We are whisked in by a very authoritative, fast talking and no-nonsense guy. Change into the gown, and yes, wear two of them so one can see your bare ass as you parade around. Then in to the operating room. Dr. Kennedy is there, and the guy turns out to be her assistant. Not sure if he is a doctor of some sort as well, though I doubt it since he gave his name as Goodwin. Could be a technologist of sorts.  A bed is rolled in. Goodwin, Dr. Kennedy and another person named Christopher have a conversation. They obviously like her.

Intravenous needle is inserted. No explanation of what is about to happen, other than we are diving in for an inspection. I lie on my side and whatever tools they are using are inserted in my rectum. Don’t feel a thing. I am watching everything on the monitor. Yes, I am awake. Find out later that they needed me awake to find out when I was in pain. Are you kidding me? I was very vocal about that. You see these animations on House and CSI, but nothing like watching a camera winding its way through your system. They finally stop at the tumour. You half expect something to rear its head and start doing battle. Too much TV.

They poke around for a while, back and forth, with each activity eliciting sharp pain noises from me. This is not pleasant. Some poker type thing keeps poking at the tumour. They really do not need to provoke this thing, it looks mightily pissed all on its own. It is finally over. They have taken a couple of biopsies and we are headed home. They will be in touch as to the next steps. I am seeing the liver guy on Thursday, and Dr. Kennedy will try and be there.

We go downstairs to the food court. Janet had packed some food, and I use the term loosely. Tea, Jello, water, Gatorade. I don’t remember eating anything too heavy. My sister’s advice to take it easy goes out of the window. I am way too hungry to care. Can’t help but think of all those movies in which they tell people to drink slowly as they are rescued from the trek through the desert. I eat like this is the last pathetic meal I am going to have. We go home.

I am tired, and sleepy. A combination of the drugs, and the sleepless night before. I am gone for 3 hours. Deep sleep. Don’t feel good when I wake up, but am hungry. Eat something and go lie down. Really do not feel good. I am getting to the stage where I can tell if I have a temperature or not. I have a temperature. Go to bed with a temperature of 38.5. Janet calls Ruth who asks to speak with me.

Where are the pains? Remember where I pressed and how? Do that to yourself and tell me what happens. Do this, do that. The prognosis? Remember the biopsy? The one in which they poke you and CUT a piece of your innards? It turns out the body does not like to have its innards tampered with. They should have put a BandAid on while they were cutting away. The temperature is a reaction to the cutting. Take two aspirins, or Tylenols and sleep it off. And then she says take the Tylenols once only. Well that is a given, can’t take the same Tylenols twice. I am so funny.

We talk about the the consult with Dr. Kennedy and the 3 year remaining life span. Ruth goes very quiet and wants to know why I even asked for a number. I didn’t, the number was volunteered. She is not happy. I am young and strong. These numbers are based on averages of some kind and are totally meaningless. Close that door and never open it again. She will not broker any discussion that puts any kind of life expectation on anything. I love Ruth. Going to elope with her.

Neither Janet nor I dare take a sigh of relief. Thursday is around the corner. We will wait until that day is done and take a breath. I go to sleep again, after taking my Tylenols.

Appointment with a Doctor Erin Kennedy at 10:20. She has a fancy title that appears to let us know that she knows wherefore she speaks. Colonoscopy already set for the next day, even before we have our chat. As I said, this is going to be a very hard week.

We are ushered into the consult room. The nurse locks the door behind us. Is she afraid we are going to bolt? Hah, I can still laugh at this. Dr. Kennedy walks in and sits down to start the consult. She appears to be in her mid 30′s at least, pleasant smile but all business. She has our file in front of her and lays it out flat on the desk. She then jumps right in with the diagnosis of what I have. Colon cancer which has metastasized to the liver. But not to worry, she says cheerily, people have rebounded to live at least 3 years without any problems. Janet and I look at each other, hold hands, and tears well in our eyes. It becomes obvious to her that she moved just a bit too fast. I think she thought we knew more than we did. I mean we had discussed the possibility of cancer, but not in such certain terms. It was brutal.

We have a discussion of how the hospital works. Will she be consulting with Dr. Gallinger before proceeding? Will they do chemo first, or operate first? Her tone is a bit gentler. They are never sure how to proceed. There will be a discussion amongst the doctors involved. In fact, there is a small panel of doctors who discuss cases and arrive at a decision. We are not invited.

The consult is short. 30 minutes and we are out. She is not in a rush or anything, and would have given us more time if we had more questions. We are in a bit of a shock. We leave and spend the rest of the day getting ready for the colonoscopy. Whoever came up with this regimen is laughing sadistically somewhere. 8oz of this liquid to be ingested every 10 to 20 minutes. Took between 3 and 4 hours to finish the whole thing. I lived in the bathroom for the rest of the evening. There is little else to say about the day.

Emotionally a bit stunted. Quite numb, but getting ready for the next day is a welcome distraction. The rest of the day is a bit of a blur. Little conversation. Drink, poo, drink, poo, sleep, poo, sleep poo.

We spent the whole day on a liquid diet. Chicken broth, Gatorade and Jello. We were surprised by the level of energy I had all day. Considering that I am usually crashing by dinner time, I seem full of vigour. No headaches, no slowing down. Go liquid diet!

I start the day very tentatively. Not sure if the runs are gone or not. Still a lot of gas but little else. Janet went downstairs a short while ago. I follow suit. Have a small breakfast. Don’t trust my body today. We are going to Kali and David’s for brunch, Nancy and Anne Sutherland are coming at 2:00PM to discuss a course they are giving at OCAD. Daryl, Ann and Frank are coming around 4.

We have to go shopping for all the stuff I need for the colonoscopy day. We end up also looking for some Chausson aux Pommes. We drive around everywhere but cannot find any. Marc who owns Jules tells me they take too long to make. He just does not have time. Janet and I decide we will Google this and make our own,

We finish our shopping. I am very concerned about the liquid diet thing. Mostly because I can neither eat or drink from midnight through to the time of the exam at 1:30. I am terrified of that. I need to eat regularly.

Kali and David are very gracious. But I have made a mistake by not eating anything since breakfast. David serves me first. We talk a lot, and they try to keep me positive. The meal is wonderful. David is an amazing cook. We sit in their living room and Dev’s name inevitably comes up. I tell them about Dev’s reaction the night when I crashed because my meal was delayed by half an hour. I start to cry. It is one thing for me to have to go through this, but why should Dev suffer? What an experience for him to have at this young age. I leave the room only to return and find that everyone is crying. So much for strength and resilience.

We come home, and I go to lie down for what is now the customary afternoon rest. I cannot sleep, but I do rest for about half an hour. I hear Nance and company come in, and eventually go downstairs to say hi and whatever. I eat something and leave them to work. I watch TV and play FreeCell. It seems that is all I do, no energy to read, which is too bad. It might come back at some point, the reading thing. Daryl shows up and I give her a report, followed by Ann and Frank who also get a report. I am getting good at reporting. Got it down pat. Ask me a question, and I have got the answer.

Everyone leaves, Supper is wonderful. Watch more TV.

This is all a lot overwhelming. I know you are supposed to be gracious about things, but the level of support and concern is amazing. I have a hard time handling the kindness and love. It also becomes interesting to watch how people behave. Ann and Frank take complete ownership of the relationship. They will call whenever they feel like it. The Clan is very supportive but call Janet mostly. Judith pins me on the berry to stay up to date. All these small idiosyncrasies that show off people’s inner character. Very telling in some way.

I have to write a note to Ruth letting her know that I love her and we have to run away together to some far off island. I know I have written about this before, but she is truly amazing. Probably go to bed around 10 to get ready for tomorrow. I am hoping the next two days provide some answers. There is little doubt that the bowel is the epicentre of the troubles, just need to know what the hell it is.

I expect I will be very emotional this week. Maybe a box of Kleenex would not be a bad idea.

Another good day. Had a great breakfast Have no felt this good since this thing started. If I did not know better, I would swear that I was on the mend. Janet is off to Pilates. Dev is at work. We are going to the market when she gets home. I have the runs. What [...]

Go to work at Monarch. Yama wants me to go in and hang out a bit. Do a bit of work, Ron wants to have lunch but he has to go to a meeting first. I should know better but agree and hang out for another 45 minutes or so. He is, of course, nowhere [...]

Get up and have breakfast. Ensure, egg, bread and jam. And I can eat the whole thing. Is my appetite back? The day was OK but ends on a downer. Thinking too much. I crash. Go to bed early. Everyone is calling. Paulee, Leslie, Fetneh, Morris, Frank. I went out for a coffee with Morris. [...]

In good spirits. I keep the car. I have a great day. Rest at noon again, but end the day in great shape. Taking things one day at a time. This makes it 2 good days in a row. Rob comes over to smoke a cigar. We have a great conversation. We talk about the [...]

Janet is going back to work this week while appointments are being arranged. We drive in to work, and I go to see Monarch to do some work. It is good to be out. We have made a decision that I should graze all day. Eat small bits of food, but eat all the time. [...]