Date: June 9, 2007
Location: Trinity Bellwoods Park, Toronto
It stopped.
Farokh
Jun 092010
All things become normal after a while. Repeat something often enough and you begin to believe it. So it goes with Chemo.
I remember the trepidation of the first to or three sessions. What to expect? What will happen? You hear such stories from the good to the very bad. He went back to work after four sessions, to lost their hair and retired to the basement. I have indicated many times that my reaction to Chemo has been muted to say the least. I now take public transit to get there. I have taken public transit to come home as well. That will probably happen next week when I go for session 16. Janet and Devin are both working.
Public transit is a pretty good way to go. Takes me from almost the hospital front door to almost my front door. Cannot ask for anything more. Truly a non-event. My immediate reaction to Chemo is watering eyes. Not sure what that is all about. The eyes start watering and don’t stop for 24 hours. Next comes fatigue and the bowel system is thrown off balance. The rest is up in the air as it where. Some things show up and others don’t. Can never tell. We just wait things out. My last bout of Neulasta was not bad. No real pain, no more fatigue than usual. Am I building some sort of immunity to that as well?
I have always had a very strong immune system, which is why the cancer came as a bit of a surprise. That system is now holding me up. I am doing well, I am pretty sure, because my immune system is holding things up. They say the immune system gets compromised by cancer. I am sure mine has been compromised as well. Though my compromised system appears to be behaving very well. I am still forbidden from consuming raw meats. I miss that a lot. Sushi and steak tartar are two of my very favorite meals. Neither has passed these precious lips in over nine months. Sigh.
There I am sitting in the chair at the Chemo Daycare. I have been asked many times why I call it that. The answer is simple. Get off the elevator on the second floor and there are directions that basically say, Chemo Daycare, this way. Once at the end of the corridor, there is another sign that says something like Chemo Daycare reception. Not much left to the imagination.
Back to the story. There are two types chairs at the Chemo Daycare. Both allow you to lie down. The newer chair turns almost into a bed. You keep leaning back expecting to keel over at any minute. The chairs are great for sleeping in. The daycare is moving to the fourth floor in August. A whole new experience awaits us with new airplane like seats. I don’t think anyone will want to leave the place. New seats, new environment, new layout, same old drugs.
I keep digressing. I am lying in my chair, drugs coursing through my veins. Cannot sleep. Lying there watching my nurse go about her duties. I had a new nurse, Celeste. She was very official, as they all are when they do not know you. Check the Blue hospital card against your arm band, check your date of birth, check the drug regimen received against what is in the computer. The list goes on and on. My nurse relaxed when other nurses came by who know me and told her I am a trouble maker and she should give me a hard time.
Really, there is a story of sorts here. I am lying in the chair, failing in all my attempts to sleep. Warm blanket is covering me, pillow under my head. Drugs are coursing through my veins. You knew that already. I decide to look at the chart that the nurses follow in administering the drugs. There are six pages of instructions. Well, only a couple of pages of instructions, most of which is gibberish to me. There is a page that identifies the drugs I am supposed to be getting. Absurd amount of detail in there. Good for them to know, gibberish to me, though I think I might make a copy of it and browse the web for misinformation about what it is that is having a party in my body. I finally arrive at the first page.
There it is in all its glory. You are at the Princess Margaret Hospital. Your number is whatever. I am not giving that out, You might be jealous of the treatment I am receiving and decide to try it out for yourself. No such luck for you today. You will have to suffer through it in some semblance of virtual reality. The first page is also where it says that this is Session 15. On the same line as the session number is another entry which says, Intent: Palliative.
Yeah. There is that word. The end game. That is where it is all headed at some point. Palliative. I knew that. I have been told enough times about how complicated this is, and how advanced I am. That is all talk. Intellectual stuff. This is a bit stark. Sterile. Lifeless. You are headed to palliative, not today, or tomorrow. Sometime in the future. Five years? Ten years? More? Less? Hardly seems to matter. You are headed there at some point. Time to clean up the bedroom.
Death is such a bizarre concept. There is no coming back. No one has been able to put the experience into words. Here we are at the death bed of John Truro. Cameras rolling, microphone on, How does it feel Mr. Truro to be gasping your last breath? It feels like, well, let me put to you this way……. Just like in the movies where dying people talk to the very last minute. I watched a friend die once. It was nothing like that. The final half hour was very quiet. His deep breathing filling the room in the palliative ward. The priest came and went after uttering his blessings. The nurse came and stroked his head until the final breath was uttered. There was little left to say. Mixed emotions and feelings.
The person lives on for a few months. People talk about him. Then nothing. An afterthought. The name comes up in certain situations, but really, nothing vital is left. There is nothing wrong with this. Just the way life comes and goes. My father died in Swaziland. I was first on the scene. My sister joined me shortly after. We were left in charge of taking care of his few possessions. A few articles of clothing, and books. So many books. All in Persian or Arabic. We had no idea what they were about. We shipped them all out to some library somewhere. They would know what to do with them. That was in 1999. We closed his bank account. Buried him. Went back two years later to unveil the stone. Done. Finished. All gone. We obviously talk about him once in a while. He was a man with presence who commanded respect. He had in depth knowledge of the Bible, the Koran, and the Baha’i writings. One of the few who managed to reconcile all the messages in each with the others. But his light is extinguished. His name a mere anecdote in the history of life.
I came to the conclusion a few years ago, that we live through a few generations, then disappear. This explains the number of photographs of people that appear at flea markets all over the world. Piles and piles of pictures. Of no one in particular. Someone at some point. Someone to somebody, but now, no one. A smiling face in a pile of other smiling faces.
My friend Kali, who joins me for lunch every couple of weeks, asked me the other day what I though my legacy would be. What a question. Do we think in those terms? My pictures was the reply. I cannot imagine what my family will do will all the stuff I have that deals with photography. The books, cameras, and other equipment. I keep a lot of it for sentimental reasons. Others I should discard. I just had one of my film cameras repaired. The camera is 40 years old. I will use it again. What will they do with it?
Palliative? Not yet. I still have a lot left to do.
Date: June 2008
Location: St Clair and Mount Pleasant ravine, Toronto
Who knew there was a ravine there. Well traveled as it turns out. I found it while trying to save some money on parking expenses. This part of the ravine is well groomed and looked after. Which makes the presence of graffiti even more surprising. There is lots of graffiti under and around the bridge. This is just one example.
I am waking up very early these days. I guess it is a result of getting so much sleep during the day. Not sure. I was awake around 6 and finally rose around 7. I was looking forward to a cup of coffee.
Got dressed, went out for a walk. The staff at the hotel are so nice. Not just a question of opening and closing doors. Very pleasant and helpful. There is a coffee shop across the street, small joint, thought I would give them a try. I had a coffee at the hotel the previous day while waiting for Janet to get back from her facial. It was really bad. The doorman recommended the shop across the street, except they were closed. I walked around a couple of blocks. Nothing was open. New York was asleep.
There are few things better in this world than a city waking up. I think that should be a subject for a bunch of pictures. Staff at restaurants prepare for the new day by cleaning the sidewalk in front of their stores. They not only sweep, but wash their sidewalks in preparation for the crowds. I remember people doing this in Iran, except they did it in the evenings in order to cool things down, as well as to wash things.
I took a few pictures, not a lot, and one of them may show up next Friday or something. I have to look at it a few more times before deciding. A bit of exhaustion, a bit of nothing really worthwhile in our neighbourhood. There are a lot of restaurants, stores everywhere, buildings that could use a lot of work, spaces for rent. The city is still vibrant and alive. Not as alive as it used to be, but alive.
I got back to the hotel at 8 in time for the coffee. Nothing was open before 8. Imagine that. On a Friday no less. I would have believed that for a weekend, not a weekday. Ordered a double espresso and banana cake. Both were good. Ate them outside the coffee shop. They had a table and two chairs set up. The slope in the sidewalk meant that you felt like you were falling off all the time. Ordered a coffee for Janet and went back to the hotel around 8:30. Janet was still asleep. She did not like her coffee much.
We finally left the hotel around 10 to start our adventure. Hunted down a place to have breakfast. Service is New York is spotty at best. Most places are good, a few are great and a lot are pretty mediocre. The staff barely talk to you. They had to wake up early to serve you. What more do you want? The staff members who actually deliver the food are different from the waiters who take the orders. The serving guy served out breakfast to the wrong table. I don;t know about you, but if I had ordered eggs over easy with bacon, and received an omelet instead, I would be just a tad suspicious of the food. Not this guy. Dove in and started eating. The waitress later apologized for the mix up and did not charge him for the meal.
Wait just a minute here. Serve me his dish and don’t charge me either. How come he does get charged for eating my breakfast? I had to wait a while longer for mine to be served. No fair.
I went to the local AT&T shop to see if I could get a pay as you go SIM card for my iPhone. No such thing. Anyway, the salesman says, the pay as you go is not worth it for the iPhone. You use up the amounts almost instantly because of the amount of traffic that the phone generates. What about other pay as you go options? He winces. You have to buy the phone. The plan is minimal. $4.00 for 200 text messages. That is really all I wanted the phone for anyways. A phone with a regular keyboard is $80. You kidding me? For pay as you go? Not worth it. Not for the remaining 2.5 days. Amazing how bereft one feels without a phone.
Don’t go all Crackberry on me. My first cell phone was a motorolla flip phone. a huge unit that looked like it was made for the military. Janet made me get it when I was taking a trip to Sault Ste. Marie on a training gig. Must have been about 15 years ago. I wanted one just to keep in touch with Janet through text messages. She is shopping, I am walking around. You get the idea.
Janet decides to shop in this Japanese store called Uniqlo. I looked for a place to sit down. All the benches within site of the changing rooms were taken. I sat on the stairs. This young girl comes up to me and says I am not allowed to sit on the stairs. I tell her I am not feeling well. She says I can go up the stairs or look for the other benches. I explain that the benches are occupied, and I cannot go up the stairs. She has no sympathy. There is an elevator and there are other benches. The stairs are very wide. I am not in anyone’s way. I express my disappointment in her attitude and leave the store. There are no benches in NY, but there are sprinkler systems you can sit on. I did, and waited for Janet to finish her shopping.
I came across this service called Hello Rewind. They will take your old T-Shirt and turn into a computer sleeve for $49.00. Proceeds of the sale got toward stopping the sex trade. You can read all about it at the link above. The idea is that you make the purchase online. They send you a small box into which you place your t-shirt. Six weeks later you have you own genuine unique computer sleeve. Only one small flaw in the ointment,as it were. Does not work in Canada. You can make the purchase. They cannot send you the box. You have to send in your t-shirt. I figured we would drop in on them since we were going to be there anyways.
Their offices were about 10 blocks away from the hotel located in one of those nondescript areas that permeate so many cities. The office was locate in a newly renovated building. The security consisted of this young lady working on a computer at a round table located in a very cramped lobby. She called the office, and they let us up. The elevator was very claustrophobic. Janet felt a little queasy by the time we got the sixth floor.
What a fantastic layout. There was a row of offices separated by glass panels. Looked a lot like a cow stable where the animals are herded into their spaces in a neat row. The offices looked like they were between 60 and 80 square feet. Enough for two people to work in. Our contact was in the last office. The spaces were all filled and the place was humming with work and energy. Everybody was young and either hard at work or chatting with their neighbours. Our contact was quite happy with the space. Large enough to work in when you are there. A lot of other your entrepreneurs meant a lot of connections for more business. He was involved int he marketing of Hello Rewind. Janet and I fell in love with the concept. Not sure I could work for very long in those cramped quarters, a great concept nevertheless.
I was a bit knackered and took a power nap before lunch.
We met with Steve Landsberg for lunch in an Italian joint. Very friendly, great food, though I could not eat much. My stomach has been very active, due I think, in part to the type of foods I have ingesting. a lot of greens, meats, ghetti, and so on. Time to give it a rest of sorts. Complicated in a city which serves such large helpings. Steve was great. Commented on how good I look.
More walk, more sleep, more shopping for Janet. Felt so bad for. Obligated to do all that shopping. Went out for dinner with some more friends.
The fantabulous Sarah Kosteki, Dex and his wonderful wife Amelia. I had heard rumours of Amelia before. We have had several meals with Dex in Toronto. She was always absent on one pretext or another. We began to doubt her very existence. All those stories, sure, if you insist. The reservation was for 6:00PM. She was not there. Finally showed up at 7:00. OK, she is real, and charming at that, nothing less expected from anyone who would marry Dex. The conversation was fluid, the company charming, the food great. You look great was the first thing Dex and Sarah said.
People, get used to it. I look great for someone with the big C etched on his forehead. Really. My hair is thin but growing back. You would never know there was anything wrong with me if you met me on the street.
Meal done, made our way back to the hotel for 10:00PM. I went to sleep almost instantly leaving Janet to struggle with the TV.
It was short. It was quick. It was fun.
Ok, I will tell you more.
We flew Porter from the Toronto Island Airport. Landed in the Newark International Airport. Took a taxi into town.
We have a letter from Dr. Kennedy that stipulates that I am infirm and require a wheelchair to get around. I also have a pair of scissors in my medical bag which is needed. The folks at the Island airport let me through with the scissors. No fuss. We passed on the wheelchair. It is a small airport. Janet’s amazing assistant, the famous and fabulous Marina booked the trip. She made sure that my infirm state was noted in bold letters in the Porter file. No confusion there. The Porter staff were very attentive, both on the ground and in the flight. We were fast tracked through every possible gate. Preboarded when the call went out. What fun.
Newark is another story altogether. Huge place. There was a wheelchair waiting for us. That was one of the weirdest experiences of my life. Quite demoralizing. On one hand you appreciate the fast tracking through customs and all the lines. On the other hand you feel very inadequate. The wheelchair was a bonus. It saved me a lot of walking. I will not hesitate in the future in taking advantage of it. It is still weird.
The cab ride into NY was interesting to say the least. The ride itself was uneventful. The view out of the taxi window was amazing. So much heavy industry. So much dirt and filth and pollution in New Jersey. It made New York look like the most wonderful place on earth. Quite a feat that.
We checked into the hotel. As usual, the room was not ready. We went for a walk and to get a bite to eat. So many places to eat. So many choices. Makes it difficult to decide. We finally settle on a place with open widows and doors. The weather is spectacular. Table for two. Order our food. Talk, Watch the people walking outside, longing for a table by the window. We let our waiter know that we covet one of the two tables. The people appear to be finishing, and we will move there as soon as possible.
There is a lady sitting by herself two tables over. Way too much foundation and rouge. I thought that look was out of fashion eons ago. Yet here she is, looking pasty white. Almost clownish. She is high strung. Nervous and fidgety. She finishes brushing her teeth and applies her red lipstick. Stops long enough to let the waiter know that the french fries that came with her meal were inedible. can she get a discount? The waiter comes back. She gets a $2.00 discount, and here is the bill. She fidgets and fusses. Gets her money out. Looks at the bill. Appears to do some calculations. Closes the billfold, puts her money away, collects her belongings and leaves. At no time did she smile.
I remember thinking what a business this is. You have to trust your patrons to put money in the billfold before leaving. Something made me wonder if she left any money since she appeared to put away all the money she had pulled out. She had left $2.00 in the billfold. The waiter ran out to chase her down. She had disappeared.
Welcome to New York.
We came to New York without an agenda. A few friends wanted to have lunch or dinner with us. That was about the only agenda that was set up beforehand. The whole idea was to wander and experience the city. Go back to the hotel when I got tired. Janet could go shopping and do whatever. Thursday was out day. We had dinner by ourselves. Spent the afternoon wandering getting to know the streets. We stayed at a hotel called 60 Thompson Street. Part of a chain of Thompson Hotels. This one happened to be located at its namesake. So much imagination at play here.
The hotel was nice enough. Queen size bed in a room not much bigger. A lovely HD TV, except all the channels were analog with a third of them unwatchable. The remote barely worked. You had to lift up your arm, point in the right direction and hold whatever button down. Spin three time, pray to the God of remotes, burn an effigy. They replaced the batteries in the remote to no avail.
My cell phone is on a Canada only plan. The hotel wanted to charge us $10 for 24 hours of WiFi service. What a ridiculous thing to do. I have a letter going out to someone at the Thompson Group complaining about that. You tend to spend very little time in your hotel. Making this one of the more expensive perks. They should make it $10 for 24 hours of service, as in a cumulative amount, as opposed to a 24 hour day. Janet’s Blackberry was spotty until she went to an At&T store where they jiggled and wiggled until the unit started working. What a to-do.
Went to bed early in anticipation of the next day.
Following is a transcript of the eMail exchange I had with the customer service person at the Princess Margaret Hospital. But first, some background. I had a blood test done on May 3rd, in preparation for the Chemo session scheduled for the 4th. I always try and go the previous day. Gives everyone time to [...]
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