We finally made it the One of Kind Show. I was exhausted for some reason, woke up in the afternoon and insisted we go. Let us not miss this opportunity. We got there, rented and electric scooter and rolled inside. The scooter was the best thing we did. I even took my oxygen tank to emphasize the point.  We lasted about 2.5 hours at the show, then made our way home.

I was amazes at the rudeness of people regarding the use of the scooter. Some cut you off, others made comments just loud enough for you to hear, others did not get out of the way. All very interesting, and unnecessary. To make matters worse, it was a terrible show. I was standing in front of a painting at one point when another vendor showed up and the started talking about this that and another including the show itself. I stayed there for quite a while admiring the painting, but no one came to ask me if I wanted to buy it. I was not about to get out of my chair. Not the easiest thing to do. I left.

I have been knocked out for the couple of days. The doctors have reassured Janet that the show is the reason. I am eating well, and drinking not bad. One does not go from eating to dead overnight. Janet woke me up this afternoon to eat. It was very difficult for me to even open my eyes. Same thing this evening. Come down for dinner. Could barely open my eyes, so stayed in bed. Could have easily stayed asleep all night.

I woke up around 11:30, suddenly awake and lots of energy. Janet decided I should take advantage of the energy to update the blog since so many people are concerned by the lack of communication.

I must say it is a very strange feeling that I am going through. Quite scary on one level, well, on any level you can possibly imagine. Not sure where any of it is going. Janet keeps asking me what is going on. The simple answer is I am dying and all the thoughts and tribulations that go along with that. Sounds like a simple process, but get complicated really fast, and really does not explain everything. Is this a waiting game? Wake up in the morning and just sit around and wait to see what happens?

After my exceptionally brilliant piece on people visiting me, we are are finding ourselves cancelling visits. Cannot handle the conversation. We have at the very least, curtailed visits, limiting them to something we think we can handle. All very confusing to us, let alone to those wishing to grace us with the presence.

The blog is helping a lot with thinking through things. I have a visit with my psychiatrist this Friday, see how that goes. I am looking forward to it. There are a number of thoughts going through my head that are linked to the legacy post which I have promised and yet to deliver. It is coming, I promise. Have to get the thoughts in order. getting more complicated as we move forward.

The blog is getting very big, and we are running into technical issued. You may find it down sometimes. The techs are doing their best to keep it up and running. I am also trying to find a podcast from a CBC interview that talks about the fact that we shuld be preventing cancer, and not cure it since there is not cure for it. I have mentioned that many time before, but he has accreditations behind his name which makes him an authority so we have to listen to him. Yeah for accreditations.

All this to say I appear to be good. Blood pressure where it should be, blood counts where thy aught to be. We will get past this exhaustion thing as well. We are also going to try and get a handicap sticker for the car. I guess we can use the oxygen as the excuse. It will be good to have one. You get access to all the handicap parking spots, and can park just about anywhere you want. I am not driving any more. Do not trust the reflexes. I may also not be able to lift my feet to reach the brake pedals fast enough. Janet can take advantage of it.

All for now.  Good night.

I started spending more and more time in bed. Wake up in the morning, have breakfast, maybe drive Janet to work. Shop for food a bit, then come home and collapse in bed. Sleep from ten in the morning to around two in the afternoon. I thought at times I was not eating enough, or drinking enough water. Increased both those. Got hit by bouts of nausea. Took pills for that.

Fetneh kept insisting I go for acupuncture to increase my energy levels. I kept promising to go, then forget the promise made. Almost as if I did not have the energy to go for the one thing that might just increase my energy.

No one was very happy about this. Janet had to almost accept reality. She could not do anything about it. Kept encouraging them to get on with things. Make a plan, everyone said. Set up a routine and do it. It does not have to be complicated. Just start doing things. I am doing things, I am sleeping. You can bet that put a smile on their faces.

I took my daily sleep last Friday. I had the shivers while lying under the winter comforter. We are in fall mode, nowhere near winter. I should not be cold. I closed all the windows. Still had the shivers. They kept waking me up. I finally roused myself around three in the afternoon. I was hungry. A man has to have his priorities. I was also in pain.

Oh yeah the pain. I have started having these pains along the bottom of my rib cage. It turns out they are due to an inflamed liver. Could be a good thing or not depending on whether the tumours are getting bigger (bad) or smaller (good!). Tylenol 1s take care of the pain rather nicely thank you very much. I pop a couple of those, get dressed and make my way tot he kitchen. I am still shivering.

I am out of breath by the time I get down there. I may have neglected that part of the narrative. I have running out breath a lot as well. Say a couple of words and take a few breaths. It comes and goes. There does not appear to be rhyme or reason for the effects.

I get myself something to eat and am still shivering. I am so dense these days. It suddenly occurs to me that I may have a temperature. I go back upstairs to get the thermometer. We have one of those units that you stick in the ear. It responds in seconds. I register 38.5C. I am supposed to go to hospital hen I hit 38. I decide this is an anomaly. The T1s will take care of it anyways. My temperature goes down as the day progresses, hitting almost 37, An anomaly it may have been.

Janet is in New York on business and to see Devin. She left n Thursday morning. She has arranged, or the friends arranged to come look after me. Diana is coming to feed me on Friday night, and Nancy is doing the honours on Saturday. I have been cooking up a storm of late and find this very amusing. Given my level of fatigue, breathlessness, and fever, the rescue is very welcome.

Diana, Andrew and Leona being dinner over. I love teasing her kids. They are extremely bright and rise to the occasion brilliantly, not shy to defend themselves under my relentless attacks. Diana does not have to step in to defend them. They do an admirable job. They also take the teasing in the spirit it is intended in. We have a good time. Andrew wants advice on what sort of computer to by. He wants something zippy, fast, a computer that will almost read his thoughts. Come on instantly. Oh Andrew, good luck with that. Speed is so relative to your experiences.

I am obviously done for, and they take their leave. Leslie has come home to keep me company. I feel bad, because I am headed straight to bed. She is not to be deterred from her objective and insists on staying home.

Saturday morning sees me with a temperature of 37.8. Sigh of relief. A couple of T1s will, and do take care of that. I go to the market but do have the energy to walk around. I come home, and go to bed. This is getting ridiculous. Wake up a lot later and start doing stuff. Pain, breathless, getting really frustrated. I have a telephone conversation with Janet. She is having a fine time. Devin is doing well, having a good time at The New School.

Nancy calls to confer about dinner. Pasta it is. I have cut down on my eating. Severely cut down to avoid stomach aches. She will cook it when she gets here. I take my temperature. Yikes, I am back at 38.5. Nancy will take me to hospital after dinner. Nothing worse than going to emergency on an empty stomach. They do not have decent food there. We eat, with Leslie coming home and joining us. She stays behind to clean up. Nancy and I drive to the hospital. She drives, I go along for the ride.

I bring all my pills with me. I have one Chemo pill that I have to take at 8AM and 8PM on Fridays and Saturdays. We arrive at the hospital at 8:00PM. Walk up to the triage nurse. She is a bit brusque. Are you here to see a doctor. I am a bit confused by the question. Not sure what my options are. Stammer something like, I guess, maybe, sure. She is getting impatient. Are you here to see doctor or a patient. Clarification. Oh a doctor for sure. I look at Nancy. I don’t look sick enough. She seems to think I am healthy.

I take a seat next tot he nurse and start answering her questions. She takes my vitals. My temperature has not budged. So I am sick. She is much calmer now and processes me. Nancy and I sit in the waiting room. We are barely settled when I get called in to register. I am also told it is safe to take my pills. I take the pills, register, get my wrist band to make sure everyone knows I am a genuine sick person. We settle again in the waiting room. There are maybe half a dozen people ahead of us. Not bad for a major downtown hospital on a Saturday night. Should not be that long of a wait. We are called in almost immediately. Nancy is impressed. I make sure she comes in with me. Nothing she has not seen or talked about.

We are ushered into a private room just beside the nurses station. I like hearing the action and conversations. There is nothing worse than being secluded while in emergency, you feel as if they have forgotten about you. They come and do blood work, request some urine. Nothing unusual. They are prompt and friendly and young, so young, and very pretty. As Judy said, I am not that sick. Dr. Quinn comes in to talk to us. They will do a CT-Scan of the lungs, ultrasound of the heart to make sure there is no water around it, more blood work. The original blood work has come in negative indicating there are no infections. They took blood from my Port-a-Cath. They want to take some more from my veins to make sure the Port-a-Cath is not infected.

Nurse comes in with two very large vials to get more blood from me. They assure me I have enough. She pokes me and takes her samples. They will be used to grow cultures in the lab to make sure I am truly free from infections. There are a lot of people with colds around us. The doctor comes back. The CT-Scan machine is not working. They will take a chest X-Ray instead, looking for signs of pneumonia or other items obstructing the lungs. They still want to do the Scan which will find things that the X-Ray machine cannot see, such as small blood clots that may have made their way into the lung. They do not think there are any since I am taking a blood thinner, but I am a critical case and they are not willing to take any chances.

Everything happens pretty quickly. By midnight, they have decided I should stay in the hospital for observations. The X-Rays show a number of metastasized cancer cells in both lungs. From what the doctor says, I am guessing more than before. I thinks her words were there are a lot of mets in your lungs. Nothing else though which is both good and bad. Good which means I am free from infections, bad because they have to keep me to do a Scan during the day.

Another doctor, Dr. Kimberly Bremmer comes to visit. Internal medicine. She will look after me during my hospital stay. The general consensus appears to be that the Scan will also reveal nothing. They feel that all the symptoms I am showing are a result of the cancer getting worse. The information leaves me a bit numb. Nancy and I hold hands.

I am in a room by 2:00AM. A semi-private room was all that was available, and no room mate. Time are tough. Leigh and Sascha are out on the town and decide to join me. Am I able to take visitors at that time of night. Sure says the nurse. They get there by 2:30 and spend an hour with me. I have to kick them out. This is just slightly past my bed time of 9:00PM.

Dr. Bremmer visits me in the morning. She is with a retinue of interns and a more senior Doctor. They are all very serious. VERY SERIOUS. No smiles from anyone, except Dr. Bremmer. They go over my situation.  Sunday will be a day of rest and observation. The Scan will take place on Monday. Cannot see the future beyond that.

Nancy and I spent the night texting with Janet, Leslie, Fetneh, and Judith. It was almost comical. Hospitals have given up trying to stop us from using our cell phones. Sunday morning saw more of the same, adding emails to the mix as everyone was kept in the loop about what is going on. My fingers were getting sore. Nancy came back to keep me company and also to bring me my phone charger. Janet was on her way back from New York and would be at the hospital around 2PM. Nancy had to leave by lunch time to take Lilly (her daughter) to her riding lessons.

David Jang dropped in to keep me company. Janet finally showed up, as did Diana, and Leslie of course. The traffic of eMails and texting finally came to a halt. It seemed so quiet all of a sudden. I sent Janet and Leslie home around 7. Janet is not feeling well and could use the rest. I was going to sleep anyways. David left around 6. None of us wanted to discuss the worse case scenario.

I had to stay awake till 9:PM. The nurses had to come around and make note of our vital signs.  No temperature, pressure OK. No surprises. My nurse is very charming and we have a long chat about things in general. She leaves, I close the door and try to sleep. Did not have to try very hard. The bed is very uncomfortable, but it matters little as I drift in and out of sleep.

Mount Sinai hospital where I was, is attached to the Princess Margaret Hospital. They all have access to patient files at each other’s establishments. The doctors at emergency and at the hospital were fully up to date with my condition. I was very impressed with their service, professionalism, and general conduct. I was disappointed by their food. Hospitals can surely do better. We are all told about the dangers of proceed foods, and yet are being fed stuff like Rice Krispies and 1% milk as part of a healthy diet. There is something seriously amiss here.

The Scan takes place on Monday morning. The results are in by 2PM. As I keep telling people, I would be a healthy person if it wasn’t for that small matter of having cancer. I am free of infection, blood is clean, lungs are clean, heart is healthy, all organs are functioning properly. Except for the mets. that are having a jolly party.

The title of this entry is Not Enough Words. We are all a bit numb at the news and are not sure what to make of it all. Do I have still have two years in me? More? Less? Janet and I have decided it is time to make some plans. Decide what we want to do and do it.

My father died in a rather ferocious car accident in 1999. The doctors at the hospital reassured us by saying that he did not suffer, that the brain shuts down in the face of huge adversity. So it is with us. There are no thoughts going through my head. The brain shuts down. Every once in a while you wake up and go, oh yeah, I have to think about this, and the brain shuts down again.

There are not enough words to describe what we are going through. Me, my family, my amazing friends who have rallied around me seemingly oblivious to my obvious shortcomings.

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.

I arrived on Friday afternoon after an excruciating time with the security people at the Island airport. The security lady did not accept the letter from the hospital that alerts them to my scissors. I need the scissors to cut the flange that holds the bag in lace. I do not need it all the time. I went through a period where my stoma was slightly inflamed which required trimming of the flange before sticking it to your body. This requires scissors, sharp pointy ones.

She did not accept that. Nor was she happy with the can of air freshener I carry with me. Much needed that can. Burping my bag, the art of subtly releasing the gases that collect in the bag, also releases an odour that could be used instead of fire alarms. Whole countries can be vacated to avoid the smell. Buy a smaller can she says. No such thing available, I say. Nothing doing. I lift my shirt up to show her the bag. I need the scissors for this. I understand she says. Why, do you have one of these? Well, uh, no. Then how can you possibly understand? I ask to see the supervisor. She is the supervisor.

She decides to make a couple of phone calls. She comes back with a photocopy of my letter, writes down my name and telephone number on it and the fact that I have a pair of scissors. We then tackle the can of air freshener. There is no way you can take that on board. I lift up my shirt again. This bag is full of shit. I am not swearing at you. Just that it is. The burping will inconvenience all the other passengers. I am past the point of embarrassment. People can look at my bag all they want. Other passengers are going by. Some stare at you as if some sort of terrorist evidence will leak out. Others ignore, or at least ignore the situation and walk through.

The security supervisor lady finally writes on the paper that I also have a can of air freshener, taking great care in writing the brand name on the sheet. I am not totally sure what the purpose of this paper is. I would hardly advertise my intent if a terrorist internet on blowing up a plane of ten passengers headed to Montreal to celebrate 9/11. I was sending a package to someone a number of years ago. The post office clerk made me fill out this very small green form. Maybe 5cm square. She wanted me to put my name and the contents on this form. Nothing really fit on there. I asked what this was about. She says they would need to identify the package if it blows up. I asked her what her think this tiny piece of paper would survive the explosion, and what makes her think I would put down the right information if there was a bomb inside. This was previous to 9/11. She just shrugged. Rules are rules.

We often put these rules in place as if they mean something. The security person at the airport has a piece of paper now that will tell everyone that she knew I had a pair of scissors on me as well as a possible incendiary device. Yet, she let me on. How does the piece of paper protect her? Or help in any way? Or have any purpose whatsoever?

I am finally allowed to go through with the scissors and the can of air freshener. 30 minutes of my life wasted.

I arrived in Montreal around mid day. I go for a walk. It is a nice day. I get a bite to eat at Basha’s. There is a couple behind me talking about work. She is speaking in English, he replies in French. There is proof positive I am in Montreal. The strangest part is that she speaks with a French Canadian accent. I have a light lunch and just observe people milling in and out. I am to join Fetneh at 6:30PM at Mahin’s for a Persian meal. Mahin has gone to extra length to make sure all the food is perfect for me. Organic meat and all. I go back to Steve’s apartment which he has kindly lent me and lie down. I have a lot of time ahead of me.

I decide to walk and see how far I get. Not a fast walk, but a gentle stroll stopping once in a while for a coffee and water. I am exhausted after two hours and not feeling very comfortable. I take a cab to Mahin’s to get there on time. The meal is delectable. There is way too much of it and I gorge myself.

We leave and I get back to my place to rest and prepare myself for Hong Lan the next day. I overdid things today and am going to pay the price at some point.

That point is not too far away. I have a restless night and develop a small stomach cramp just to the left of the liver. I also have pains along the bottom of my rib cage. These come and go and have there for a couple of weeks. Finally, I seem to be suffering from the beginnings of nausea which happens very rarely. I take a couple of Tylenol 1s so I can sleep, and a nausea pill in the morning. I carry a pharmacy with me at all times. I take a cab to Fetneh’s office and get there on time.

Hong Lan is gracious as always. She makes me watch a two hour video from a Dr. Bruce Liption. The basic message of a number of these people is that a positive attitude helps in fighting whatever it is you are ailing from. The cancer card is played since Cancer is at the forefront of all current conditions. You also feel very uplifted when watching the video. The message is positive and it appears to make sense. The seems something innately right about what he is saying.

The video goes into a discussion about genes and how they do not control our bodies as originally thought. The Genome project lists only 34,000 genes instead of the expected 200,000. The conclusion they have come to is that cells to the actual controlling of everything and we are understanding more and more every day the mechanisms used by these cells to do their job. Genes create the template upon which cells are created.

How are genes distributed to a new born child? It appears that the distribution starts taking place two months before conception. The thoughts, level of participation, attitude of the parents help determine how much of the father and mother’s genes appear in a child. It all sounds very cool. Two months before conception? What about accidental pregnancies? Too many questions arise and the original question remains unanswered. How is the distribution of genes determined? We still do not appear to know conclusively. Why do girls look like girls and boys like boys?

The discussion on the nature of cells was quite detailed. The only discrepancy tat I can see is what activates the cell to play its role. It is one thing to say that a cell receives a signal and acts accordingly. It gives rise to the question about how the signal gets to the cell. How does the body decide what signal goes to what cell? A bit of magic perhaps.

The world of appears, I have always imagined, works a lot like the body. A brain addressing and sending signals to parts of the body that are required to perform a task. All the parts of the computer have an address allocated according to predetermined rules. A signal is sent to a device at a particular address which then responds and behaves as expected. Once in a while, a device gets corrupted and ceases to respond and we have a general failure of the system. The signal that is sent to eh device in question is bidirectional. The device responds initially by sending a signal back confirming that it received the signal and outlining the nature of the orders it has received. No room for ambiguity here. Doe the body behave the same way? Are there predetermined addresses for everything? Who or what has decided the order of things?

The video also talks about nature vs nurture, and decided that the two work hand in hand. We are also introduced tot he concept of consciousness trumping both. We assume that what is written in us in our first years particularly are etched in stone. It turns out, as some of us have already discovered, that everything can be rewritten. The term of writing tapes is used to illustrate the point. The tapes governing your life are written pretty much in the first 6 years of your existence. These tapes can be rewritten. You can also, through the powers of consciousness, rewrite the nature of your genes. Consciousness trumps all. Positive thinking is the ultimate message.

I spent 7 hours with Hong Lan. I was exhausted by the end. We came out of the day with three action plans. I forget the third, so convenient n’est-ce pas? The first one is to turn this blog into a book. I will have to talk to Sharon Singer and Shawn Smith about that. The second is that I should pursue my picture taking more aggressively.

I was supposed to visit Mehran and Noushin at their farm in the Eastern Townships on Sunday. We rented a car for the purpose. The family has been fighting a cold for a little while now. It seems they have all sharing the germs. Mehran was still ailing and we could not go. Too bad. I hope he is feeling better. We might reschedule the visit for my next visit to Montreal. We kept the car and decided to run a number of errands for Fetneh. Stuff she would normally do by bus or taxi or with someone else who has a car. We also decided to pay a visit to my mother’s grave site. I said I have to prepare her for my visit.

We never made it tot he cemetery. The Montreal cemetery is on the mountain that is located at the centre of the city. There was a bike race and all access tot he mountain was blocked. We went in circles looking for a gap in the proceedings only to come away empty handed. Mom is not ready to receive me yet. Good news for me I guess. I was exhausted from the activities of the previous two days. The cram in my stomach was still there. It was more awkward than painful. I slept in the afternoon on her couch. Three hours. Longer than I expected.

Sunday evening saw us having Shwarma for dinner. I could not eat much. The meal of Friday night was still with me. In fact, it stuck around for about a week. We decided to visit Mahin again for a cup of tea. She was in constant communication with Fetneh wondering when we would drop in again. Gigi and Ivan were there. We had cups of tea. They kept filling them up. I had little choice but to keep drinking. We had a great time with the Vidals. I got to bed around ten. Two more Tylenol 1s to make sure I slept through the night.

We had breakfast with Mitra and somehow ended up spending the whole day with her. I had to leave to catch my 4:20 flight home (delayed to 4:45). Mitra and I are old friends. We spent much of my time in Montreal together. You forget these things until you spend a bit of time together again. It was very easy and relaxed. I was home.

Security out of Dorval was another beast of an affair. They accepted the letter and allowed to keep my scissors. The air freshener gave them hiccups until a supervisor placed it in one of their plastic bags. It fit in there perfectly making it a legitimate item to carry on. The security person then decided she had to check the rest of my bag. She went through everything, a bit like going through customs. I am not sure what prompted that exercise. She finally found an object to confiscate, my half used tube of toothpaste. Victory! I was free to go.

I rested the rest of the week recovering from the excesses of Montreal.

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.

Fetneh organised a lunch with a bunch of friends. I mentioned this before. We rented the Quartier Perse owned and operated by Mahin and her husband Siamack. They are friends of ours. Mahin barred Fetneh from making any decisions regarding the food.

We flew Porter from the Toronto island. What a Godsend that is. 15 minutes cab ride from our house is a small airport catering to short hauls. In this case Montreal. The Porter staff are very friendly and look after really well. We landed in Montreal and arrived at our apartment (courtesy Steve Mykolyn) at 3PM. This is more of a corporate apartment. Very sparse with the minimum amount of perks. Except for the abundance of magazines like Dwell, one of my all time favourites.

Fetneh joined us and I went to bed soon after she arrived.

This was very confusing. The flight was short and not tiring at all. Yet here I was exhausted and yearning fro a lie down. Janet and Fetneh went out for hamburgers which they brought back with them I was not hungry. Kept sleeping, waking up occasionally to the sound of the ladies enjoying their delectable dinner. Interrupted sleep is not an issue. My sleep is constantly interrupted by concerns of the colostomy bag coming off. I wake up regularly to check and make sure all is well. Waking up to the sound of people enjoying a meal is a whole other matter.

I was tired again on Friday. We went shopping int the morning. Had a cup of coffee and lousy apple turnover at this small coffee shop. Janet wanted to go to Simmons. Not sure why they do not open a store in Toronto. They would make a killing. Maybe Toronto is not fashionable enough for them.

I got tired very quickly. The nature of my fatigue appears to be changing. I cannot describe it very well. I seem to have energy until the batteries run out. I collapse and sleep off the fatigue only to start the process over again. Not much fun, and difficult to predict when the batteries are about to run out. I should talk with the Energizer people about this. I wanted to show Janet some stuff. No energy. I went down to the food court and sat down to see if that would help. It didn’t. I was not sure is If was noxious, or just tired. Was it fatigue or more than that. What more could there be. Janet wanted details which I could not supply. Working through the feelings.

I walked back to our apartment. Walking is often good for working things through the system. They would make us walk in the hospital. We had to walk three or four times a day. That was almost the first question the nurse would ask you. They made me walk a couple of days after surgery. I am not sure why walking has the effect it does. I often find myself burping a lot as the gases make their way out of your system. The stomach sometimes comes alive, which is a good thing. Walking is good. the walk back to the apartment was not long, just long enough. I slept until Janet came back. Still stayed in bed to rest for the evening.

We had dinner on Friday night with a few of our friends. Some of them would not be able to make it on Sunday afternoon. They wanted to see me, make sure I was OK. Don’t trust my entries in the blog. They want to hear it from me, see my face, make sure I am not lying. These are old time friends, since we first came to Canada some 42 years ago. We had a great time. Went to Chez Gauthier which has seen better days. The food was terrible, service went along with the food quality. No sense in rocking the boat. We were served an hour late. My brother went to see if he could speed things up to no avail. I went up to our waiter and told him flat out that I had cancer and needed to eat right away. Past my lack of food tolerance. Play the cards you have. They served our food within ten minutes, though I doubt it had to do with anything I said.

The company made up for the lack of quality elsewhere.

We spent Saturday having lunch with Ignacio at the very wonderful Hotel Saint Sulpice in Old Montreal Highly recommended. Good food and great service. I had a lobster club sandwich. Did not know club sandwiches came with lobster. On the other hand, why should they not? I have a soft spot for club sandwiches. Toasted brown bread, lots of mayonnaise, and more of it on the side. Mouth watering.

Fo’ad came by the apartment for a visit while I rested. Janet went, you guessed it, shopping. I rested and talked with my brother and eventually went to sleep. We had dinner at martin’s house. Great company and wonderful food made for a great evening. My main regret in all these things is that I have to leave early. Seems like I am cutting things short.

Brunch on Sunday at Fetneh’s apartment. Lunch at Mahin’s.

Fetneh tells me 56 people showed up, a lot of whom I do not know. A bit ironic that a lunch thrown in my honour attracted a bunch of people I do not know, who did not introduce themselves to me. It did not bother me any. Interesting to see all those friends and relatives. Interesting to see so many children. The next generation.

Mahin is an amazing cook. The food, all Persian was astounding. White rice, green rice, rice with fava beens, sour cherry rice (my mothers favourite). All of it complemented by kebab. Mouth watering, melt in your mouth, delicious Iranian kebab. I ate lots. No repercussions.

I sat outside and let people find me. I spent a lot of time talking with Barb Puky and her husband. Nushin and Mehran graced me with their time. Funny thing about friends of long standing. You do not need to get to know each other. You pick up where you left off. No conversation is taboo. We have gone through too much in our history to let small things get in the way.

Barb Puky has been friends with us since University. She was in the same dorm as Janet.

Nushin is related our family through one of my great uncles. My grandfather had two wives. The second after the first passed away. Nushin in related to us through this first marriage.

Mehran’s parents were friends with my parents. That is going back a long ways. Makes for easy conversations and a very relaxed afternoon.

The end of the afternoon was more emotional than the beginning. I had expected it to be the other way around. I was caught off guard. I did not cry when I met everyone. I did cry when we left. Everyone in Montreal has been very supportive. I cannot thank them enough.

Fetneh works for a lady called Hong Lan. The best description I have of her is that she is a Traditional Chinese Medicine Naturopath. Hong Lan asked to meet with me to discuss my situation. She appears impressed with the progress we have made and would like to contribute. I cannot tell you what we talked about. The conversation went on for over two hours including a deep breathing exercise. I was and still am overwhelmed by the amount of information she parted with. I will be back in Montreal in September for a second conversation.

I think that is all for now.

Nothing new to report as far as the session itself is concerned. They were a couple of hours late. I am not sure how this process works. They were late because the drugs were late in coming up from the pharmacy.

They knew I was coming. We had an appointment and everything. I have not missed one yet. Always on time. Predictable. And yet, here I was waiting a couple of hours for the drugs to come up. My blood count stood at 6.6. I was hoping for it to be higher given I had just come off a Neulasta week. Beggars can’t be choosers. Just go with the flow.

All is not lost. We are ushered in to the daycare chairs. I was offered a bed or a chair. Much prefer the patter. New nurse, again. They connect you to the saline solution to flush the system and make sure you have enough liquids in you. This is a blessing on hot days when you dehydrate quicker than you can possibly imagine.

Janet drove me in. She has the week off and was going to see her father after dropping me off. The Shriners are in town, and have blocked road access tot he hospital. I had to walk a couple of blocks to get to the hospital, through the Shriners who were almost ready for the parade. They do a lot of good work, but look to me like a bunch of overweight white men well past their prime. I wonder what their future is, and who will take over their good deeds.

The saline solution was good for me given the couple of blocks walking through our extreme heat. Really hot, over C30degrees. Did not cool at nights either staying well in the upper twenties all week. The house is still cool, but I dehydrate very quickly. No amount of water seems to do the job.

Janet came to pick me up around 5PM. A number of patients kept asking for the score in the FIFA game. The atmosphere in the daycare was light. I noticed more young patients than before. Does not bode well for the future. There appeared to be fewer patients as well. Not sure why. As I said way up above, not sure how their system is set up, even after being in it for almost a year.

The Chemo week itself has been more interesting than usual. My reactions have been the same. Fatigue mostly, though less than usual in its intensity. What has caught me by surprise this week is the nature of the fatigue. I wonder if it has to do with the heat. I seem to be able to go on for while, than suddenly collapse. A couple of hours of sleep and I am back on my feet, only to repeat the process. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to the fatigue. I am not extending myself any more than I have in the past. The sudden downturn is what is confusing me. We will see if this repeat in the next Chemo session due in 10 days.

I am now waiting for Judith and Arlin to come over for coffee at the Rooster. Janet has gone to a friends farm for the weekend. I insisted she go. Will do her good to be out of town and away from me, even if it is for a couple of nights. She should come back well rested.

Thanks for being there.

Let me clarify my thoughts. I have never viewed crying as a weakness. I cry with the best of them. The issue is that we, cancer patients, seem to cry a lot. I have written about this before. I have come to the conclusion that we cry because we are not feeling well. The weakness is not in the act of crying. but that the tears reflect the weakness of the moment.

We do not feel sorry for ourselves, or feel mistreated by the Gods, just that we do not have the strength to feel good and therefore cry. It is a sign of our health, and a good one at that. There are times that I feel that I am doing OK. Someone hugs me and tears fill my eyes. A sure indication that things are not going as well as I thought they were.

I hope this clarifies things a bit, and does not add to the confusion.

As always, thanks for the comments, keep them coming regardless of the venue.

I am bummed out. This has been an up and down week. My reaction to Neulasta went as expected. Tired, achy bones and so on. I only tool three Tylenol 1 pills to drive away the pain. Not bad considering my first experience with the drug. I got a lot done, which may be part of the problem.

I am not sure what it is that drives us constantly to the point of exhaustion. I discussed this briefly with a couple of other cancer patients and we all came up empty. It seems to be desire to feel useful again, after feeling like you are a parasite.

Did the laundry, OK, only half the laundry. Got the clothes in the washer, but no energy to transfer them to the dryer.

Visited my friend Sherry Ivankovic in Kitchener who has melanoma. She was supposed to be dead two and half years ago, but is still going strong. She also had a stroke to complicate matters which makes for interesting conversations. She loses track of what she is saying half way through a conversation. She repeats herself telling me a story on the phone, repeating the story in an eMail and again in person. Every iteration is as energetic as the first, as if is is the first time she is telling it. To all accounts, every time is the first time as far as she is concerned. We compared cancer notes. The similarities are endless. It helps to talk., Almost a sigh of relief when you notice the identical reactions to the drugs and our situation.

I visited another cancer patient, this one with pancreatic cancer who was admitted to the palliative care centre at the Princess Margaret Hospital. She should not be there right now. She was very strong when I went to see her. She was being released to go home for the weekend. She was admitted to allow the doctors to determine what pain medication would work best. Her pancreas and spleen were removed about eighteen months ago. She is still gracing us with her presence. I cannot imagine the amount of pain she is in. Stoic as ever, she still suffers. Morphine doesn’t cut it any more. New pain medication is being tested. I stayed with her for a while. Watched some soccer with her father. We talked quite a bit.

The conversations between cancer patients are very different when we are alone A lot more intimate. Small bits of information come out that are usually kept in the dark shadows of our existence. We allow ourselves the luxury of divulging and talking about stuff we would not normally discuss, even with our most intimate friends. A lot of stuff takes a while to digest, internalize, and finally verbalize in some fashion. The last part does not always happen. We prefer to keep some things very private. Don’t ask me for examples. Surely that would defeat the whole reasoning behind keeping some thoughts private.

I have been experiencing some pains for the past few days. I had to tell Janet about it. Notice the use of the word had. Did not want her to be concerned. I tend to think these things are normal and to be expected when we are subjected to our drug regimen. I had to tell her because I kept groaning and wincing every time I changed positions. The groans were totally involuntary and gave the game away. She is as always concerned and does not anything a being normal. Hard to know where the lines are.

I went to see an acupuncturist. My sister, quite rightly, thought it might help with increasing my energy levels, and might even affect my white blood cells in a positive way. I have tried acupuncture before quite successfully. That was years ago and I have lost track of my acupuncturist’s whereabouts. Hard to call her my acupuncturist when I saw her so many years ago. Went to a new person. A man named Tak. An experience not to be forgotten.

I arrived on time. Took off my shoes and went into his office which occupies the basement of what, I assume, is his house. I was asked to fill out the usual forms outlining the family history of diseases and conditions. Name, address, date of birth and so on. Illnesses during childhood: none. Illnesses during adolescence: none. Recent conditions and operations: colon cancer metastasized. Parental conditions: mother died of lung cancer, epileptic. There was last sheet that I presumed outlined side effects and conditions of taking the acupuncture. It was written in paragraph format while the rest of the document had questions and spaces for answers. I ignored the past page. This upset Tak enormously. I was chastised for not reading the page and providing answers. He was quite brusque about the whole thing. A man in my condition has other things wrong with him, and those are outlined in the last page.

I read the page and found nothing that pertained to me. I was fine except for the cancer part, and the fatigue, and low white blood cells. No gastro-intestinal issues, or whatever else he had on the list. You cannot imagine how upset he was by this. Impossible. This has never happened before. A man in my condition must have other things wrong with him. Whatever. I do not seem to fit into his mold. He seemed quite exasperated and finally asked: So why do you have cancer? The why question, as if we are to blame for getting cancer. There I was at the mall, there was a sale on and I thought I would give it a try and see how it fits. I replied that I would be more that happy to hear his reasons for people getting cancer. The answer to this riddle, should he know it, would make him a multi-billionaire. He did not appear to be amused by my response. I cannot help you, he says, since all you have is cancer.

We decided to give it a try anyways. I found the experience very relaxing. He left me on the table with the needles inserted in various parts of my legs, and a couple in my neck. The couple he inserted in the soles of my feet hurt a bit, but the rest were easy to get along with. He left me for a bit and I relaxed on the bed. Practiced my deep breathing exercises, and said some prayers. Almost fell asleep. He came back, removed the needles, made me lie on my side and applied some heat to various parts of the back and neck. Over. Done. Good bye. Paid him his $75. What a rough man. What a horrible way to treat a patient, let alone a cancer patient. I will have to write him expressing my dissatisfaction.

My nurse, Barb came by for her visit. She recommended another acupuncturist with whom I will get in touch shortly. What a flame out that experience was.

I have a lousy sense of direction. I am one of those people who would get lost coming out of a paper bag. I ask for directions all the time and fail to follow them, or misunderstand them or something. Such was the case when I went to Kitchener to see Sherry. A trip that should take a maximum of 90 minutes tool over three hours. I was quite out of sorts when I got home and went to bed at 6:30.

I have been totally exhausted ever since. I have been resting and sleeping a lot. Which is why I am bummed out. The Neulasta was supposed to have kicked in by now, boosting my energy. I will rest for the remainder of the day.

Tomorrow is a whole new adventure.

I sat in the backyard this morning, reading the paper, cup of coffee in hand. So cliche. So necessary. Why do we insists on living in a cold country? Warm climates are so much more hospitable, except for the deadly bugs and incessant hurricanes. Put that aside though, and you end up with a beautiful place to live.

There has been a lot of talk lately about global warming and rising sea levels. The possibility of islands disappearing and lives changing since the original habitat is about to disappear. There are always articles that prove the contrary, all going to show that we are really not certain about what is going on. There was an article recently that talked about an island that was changing to adapt itself to rising sea levels. I forget where I read the excerpt, but the original is here. Makes for an interesting read, if only you subscribe to the magazine. An island that is changing itself? Coral reefs reacting to rising sea levels?

Just goes to show that we, humans, as part of a natural species can also morph and change with the times. We have proven over and over again that we have the ability to adapt. We get sick and our bodies somehow change and adapt to the new conditions. We get tired and the body goes into overtime attempting to rectify the situation. Time and again, we discover how little we know. The more information we have, the more confused we get.

Malcolm Gladwell talks in one of his books about doctors being given information about patients and asked to provide a diagnosis. The more information they were given the more incorrect the diagnosis. The exercise found, in fact, that only four pieces of relevant information was required for a correct diagnosis. I think relevant is the operative word here. Only four pieces of information? We are now providing diagnostics on people with thousands of pieces of information. A CT-Scan creates 300 pictures with one click of the button. The technologist has to go through them and pick put the relevant picture that depicts the information he wants. Is there too much information?

I am not sure it would make much of a difference in my case. Reading the report is always a bit of a puzzle being deciphered. The last report mentioned the lack of tumor activity in the pancreas and kidneys. I did not know that was a concern, and it apparently is not. But the technician noticed the lack of activity and decided it was worth mentioning. By the way, no brain tumors either, not that we were looking there. And none in … Too much information.

The body has adapted. It is compensating for the drugs and allowing them to control things, but not have an effect on them. I was at the St Lawrence Market this past Saturday. One of the shop keepers who is aware of my situation asked how I was. I have developed immunity I said. Good thing no? No, bad. I explained why. He started laughing. It sounded like a good thing. Who knew developing immunity can be a bad thing.

I have been tired all day. Did some laundry, but am unable to finish it. Slept in the afternoon in spite of the construction next door. Still tired. Resting. Watching TV. I cried watching the opening scenes of Star Trek. I have seen this movie many times. There is really nothing to cry over. There I was, sitting on the couch crying. Weakness all around.

I am going to see a friend tomorrow who has melanoma. She was supposed to be dead three years ago. She says it is hard to kill a bitch. She has been so determined to stay alive that I am now forced to go see her. Not very considerate of her. I am looking forward to the visit. We are both putting on weight because of the steroids that are part of out diet. I wish I was building abs or something. I am, instead ballooning. I am up to 190lbs and rising. This after going from 210 to 180. I think there is a rest coming from the Chemo treatments, and therefore from the steroids. Weight should go back down. Hard to know what to wish for.

My new Chemo cocktail is called FOLFOX. It is comprised of three drugs. Always three. This regimen is given over a two day period. How do they come up with these things? One drug one day followed by 5FU over 22 hours. A second drug the second day followed by more infusion. Sounds exciting no? More side effects, though nothing new, White, red blood cell depletion along with platelets being affected. Nothing I am not going through now. All I need now is to develop immunity to Neulasta.

I get 5FU now. The attach the tube to your chest. Turns out the heat from the body improves the flow of the infusion. I give off a lot of heat. The 46 hour process of the infusion is usually done in 40 hours, and sometimes less, depending on my level of activity. The 22 hour process with the new regiment should also run for a shorter time period. Two days of treatment. Not looking forward to that.

This entry has rambled a bit. I am tired and will use that as my excuse.