What a question to ask, the answer to which is the goal of most people. How do we separate what is important in life from the other stuff? How do we go about our daily life and not remain oblivious to what is going on around us? Paying attention to the lives of others. Achieving a stream of consciousness that will hold us up in times of adversity supporting our resolve for a better life.

Spirituality is the single most important component of the answer. Our society has a quiet rebellion at the word religion which conjures up images of child and native abuse, control, extreme riches while the poor remain hungry all around, wars and extreme prejudices fought in its name. We are unable to separate religion in many of its current forms from the purity of the original teachings.

There are also a number of questions arising as the the accuracy of the holly works since these were translated and transcribed by humans who are prone to so many errors. Assurances of the purity of the works as protected by the Manifestations of God or God himself are of no avail. No one really believes that is a possibility. Studies of the Bible particularly have highlighted the number of errors that have crept into the works that we are reading today. The first Bible was published 1000 years after the crucifixion of Christ.

The subject of spirituality itself is fraught with issues. Is it possible to have spirituality without religion? Is not the basis of spirituality the same as that of religion that we take for granted now as good vs bad rules. Thou shalt not kill was introduced by religion and has become assimilated in society. Could that rule have evolved naturally or would we continue to believe that killing is a natural process of mankind. The wild west of the 19th Century in the U.S. would support the issue that killing was considered a normal part of life for many years, in spite of religion or spirituality.

Defining the latter is effusive at best and left to the individual. Spirituality appears to live in people’s lives according to their set of principles and guidelines. I would surmise though, that all aspects of it engender some sort of feelings of good will to all men. The prospect of doing good as opposed to evil, to advance society to the next level of accomplishment. Defining good and evil, accomplishments and the like opens its own set of issues and definitions that become very personal very quickly in any discussion. To make matters worse, there are few answers.

I would add two additional principles to spirituality. The Baha’i Faith goes to great lengths espousing the benefits of detachment and moderation. I have mentioned these in the past. I am coming to the conclusion that these three could easily form the bastion of human consciousness. All are difficult to achieve, nearing on the impossible. Mainly because we tend to attempt to define things in black and white. Where it only so. All definitions defie tight descriptions of any kind. Matters are made worse by advancing age as we see ambiguity all around us.

Detachment is the process of detaching yourself from material goods. I say this as I sit in a house full of beautiful art collected over the years. I always considered detachment also meant not having material goods, shying away from purchasing them. As time has gone by, I have come to the conclusion that far not acquiring material goods, the art of detachment includes the process of acquiring stuff but recognising the transient nature f what we acquire. The accumulation of wealth for the sake of it has never seemed like a good idea, or even a recommended path to happiness. On the other hand, you have a Warren Buffet who makes a fortune and gives most of away to benefit mankind. That is certainly a level of detachment. For the record, he gave away $35 billion of his $40 billion fortune to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.

Detachment is hard to achieve since it is hard to define accurately, and again means different things to different people. At its most fundamental, I believe it includes the appreciation of one’s belongings without being unduly attached to them. Would I miss my art if it were stolen? Or burned in a fire? Undoubtedly. Life goes on at that point. We can always start purchasing again. Maybe go in a new direction. The silver lining that allows us to chart new ways as a direct result of the loss we have suffered.

Moderation is equally complicated. At first glance, it would appear that moderation encourages us to tow the middle line. How boring that would be. No excesses. On the other hand, would moderation allow the occasional excess as long as it is tempered afterwards? I am sure it does. We would not know what moderation was if we are always being moderate. That brings us to the mind bender of moderation within moderation.

Can the boundaries of moderation be moved? The answer is an obvious yes. A person participating in Xtreme sports will have different upper and lower boundaries associated with their level of activities. Their state of moderation, or what they would consider to be moderate would a totally different of values than mine. Same would apply to such mundae tasks as driving a car where we set different standards for ourselves.

We drove from Germany to Iran in 1962. My father had purchased a brand new Opel Caravan. The laws regarding importing foreign new vehicles into Iran had relaxed and my father decided to take advantage of the situation. He went to the Automobile Association in Germany to get a map and an idea of what route to take. It was an interesting drive of which I remember parts. He was told there two routes, easy and hard. Easy meant two weeks, hard was ten days over the grueling mountains of Yugoslavia and Turkey. We had lived in Ethiopia for ten years negotiating its mountainous terrain, mountains appeared to not be a problem for my father.

My father’s idea of a trip was to get from point A to point B with the minimum number of interventions. Bathroom breaks were non-existent. Leaving at 7:00AM meant just that. Be in there or incur his wrath. We made the trip to Iran in seven days much tot he shock of the Automobile Association Iran when we reported in. My dad’s idea of moderation while driving while slightly askew with the rest of the people in the car.

We are all very fast fast drivers in my family. Moderation means driving over the speed limit, not at the limit.

Moderation also applies to other aspects of life. Baha’is are told to take every opportunity to teach the Faith. Mention the name of our Manifestation of God, Baha’u'llah. Extol his teachings and so on. Even that has to be done in moderation. I have a cousin who is very active in the faith, in my opinion past the point of moderation by a large margin regardless of what upper and lower boundaries are set. She is in France right now, gone to spend time with her daughter. Her daughter works which means my cousin will have some free time on her hands. She will be organising some sort of Baha’i do there During her vacation.

I pointed out to her that this would no longer be a vacation. She should take some time out from teaching the Faith and become a tourist. I am not good at that, she says. Of course not. That requires practice.  You need to try it sometime. Go to the Museums, not the Louvre necessarily, but the Musee D’Orsay is fabulous and worth the visit. Go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Being a tourist requires you to practice being one to enjoy the process. In the meantime, go have a cup of coffee and talk to people. Incredible what you will learn from them. Recharge your batteries. It will make you a more effective teacher when you return. Moderation applies to everything we do.

If you are bored by how moderate you have become, move the boundaries. Being moderate does not mean boring.

Spirituality, detachment, moderation form the three pillars on which most lives can be lived fruitfully.

None can be achieved however, without first becoming conscious of what you are doing and how you are living you life. Stream of consciousness is vital. We are seeing this term appear more and more in all sorts of literature. Become aware. Consciousness allows you to heal yourself from some conditions. There are those who argue that I could heal my liver if only I was more conscious of its activities. Rewrite the genes that control it. It is possible. It has been proven with the new theories of Neuro Plasticity in which have rewired their brains to get rid of certain debilitating conditions including depression.

Another life long goal to be achieved. All of these are done simultaneously. It is not like you do one, than proceed to another. Every pillar is a support helping the others make sense out of everything.

Consciousness allows to become aware that the problem or issue you are labouring over is important or not. Helps balance  things out. Can you live like that every day of your life. I doubt it.

I am beginning to dissect and analyse what people say. This is fun and very educational. I have another post coming out on it. For now, I will mention one of them. Live every day like it is your last. Or take everything one day at a time. Both impossible to do. You have no idea when your last day is. And anyways, you will be dead on your last day. Not sure you want to live that way.

Given the prognosis that I have two months to live has creates a volcano of thoughts and feelings. None of which helps decide how to live every day like it is my last. Don’t have the energy for it. What if I want to sit and do nothing tomorrow? Is that a bad thing? Have I betrayed my last day objective? Would I not want to do something different? Not necessarily anything dramatic. Have dinner with my wife. Just the two of us. Hardly a last day activity people envision when they make the comment. You can have dinner anytime. Go do something else. But what?

The answer to your question, Iggy, is as old as the mountains we tread on. Achieving the balance that is required to live a full life, aware of the repercussions of one’s actions. I can tell you from my own experience over this journey, that the road to that awareness is long, will take unexpected twists and turns for which you are never totally prepared. It is worth taking the time every day to meditate. Probably toward the end of the day, on what actions you have taken, how this has affected you and your loved ones. How things can be fixed. The quicker you apply the fix the better. What the next steps are.

Baha’is have to say their prayers every day. A prayer consists of three equal parts. The first is reading the prayer, aloud or to yourself, the second is to meditate on what you have read, and the this is to take some action as a result of the prayer. Reading the prayer is the easy part. The rest require a stream of consciousness.

I hope this helps you in some way, Iggy. This has been a very difficult write. I would to hear not only your comments, but those of others. Please do not be shy, every comment carries a gem in it whether you think so or not. A lot of you write me eMails instead of commenting. I wish I could post those as comments. They are full of insight that you may not think are valuable, or downplay as simplistic. This blog has proven that there is no such thing. I have written posts that I have looked at later and thought I treated the subject too lightly, yet the comments make a liar out of me. Or the posts leave enough room for others to say something.

This is an important post tome. Please comment. Every word has value.

We ended back in emergency on Saturday afternoon suffering from severe abdominal pain. These visits are now becoming part for the new normal. It is always interesting to me how accustomed we get to life’s changes. Visiting emergency rooms has always been one of those things you try to avoid. It is now just a part of life.

I am always seen to right away. The critical case that I am. The staff are generally very nice and attentive. They did blood work, blood cultures, chest X-Rays, stomach X-Rays and an EKG.

We were looked after by an amazing doctor, John Dean Jammal. A doctor and a human being. I am a very lucky man. He had read my chart. No questions were asked. He thought at first, that I may have a hernia in my stomach wall. He pushed and prodded which hurt me a lot. Then off to do all the tests.

The freakiest part of the afternoon was the nurse who came in to do the EKG. She had forgotten her glasses at home and was working anyways. The EKG is pretty simple stuff. Her next job was to take blood from an alternate source than the Port-a-Cath, in case the latter is part of the problem. She had to find a vein from which to draw blood. I had my eyes closed the whole time, because I was not feeling so well.  It only occurred to me afterwards, as she was extracting the needle that she had the procedure without her glasses. Yikes.

The results, when all was said and done are as follows. The lungs are as fine as they can be. The are cancer cells in there, but nothing else. Crystal clear. The doctor said if my lungs were the main issue, I would live for another 20 years. The liver on the other hand was a whole different ball game and the main cause of all the problems. The liver enzymes were out of whack with reality with some of the numbers tripling since the end of September. The liver was irritating the stomach and the lungs causing the shortness of breath and coughs that are plaguing my life right now.

I am also severely constipated and have been put on some commercial grade laxative. Big piece of poo just sitting there. I am also not drinking enough water. Drink more he says. The body will release whatever it does not need.

Like everyone else, he was terribly amused by our use of Tylenol 1 as pain medication. He suggested, and prescribed a drug called Dilauded. It is a variation of morphine more specifically Hydromophone. I am allowed to take 2mg of it twice a day. They gave me on the way out. I look at it as Percocet light. It pretty much dulls everything. A whole new lease on life. No pain. All organs dulled. The only side effect I have felt so far is drowsiness. I could sleep for days on it.  I am taking one pill a day to see me through the day. Works wonders.

The other side effect we are very concerned about is that I might become addicted to it. I might have to go cold turkey to wean me from it.

The doctor laughed at that possibility. For some reason, he thinks that is the least of my problems.

He also recommended we go on a trip. Just the two of us. He said if this is a case of lying around the house waiting to die, might as well lie around on a hot beach somewhere instead. We pack all the drugs we could possibly need, including something to take care of a chest infection in case it happens (not likely). We also have to be prepared to fly home if things turn sour. Purchase two one way tickets home.

The doctor does a lot of Medivac work and sees a lot of people who are very sick. He said, that looking at me walk and talk, the colour of my skin, and my general good health, I should have no problems going somewhere for a week. We are clearing the idea through Dr. Hedley this week.

We have moved our appointment with palliative to November 3. They are supposed to take over from Dr. Hedley. I will report more when I know more.

Finally, the big party is set for this Sunday at 3PM. Thank you to David Powell for generously providing his house for the occasion.

I cannot thank you all enough for all the support you have provided.

My tolerances to extreme temperatures has disappeared. There was a time, just before my operation, when I was impervious to the cold of winter. I would walk around in a sweater in the middle on winter.

We lived in Montreal from 1968 to 1980. Winters in Montreal are truly horrific with temperatures dropping to -30C on a regular basis. I would walk Janet home after a date, then walk home from her house, a 45 minute jaunt through the balmy winter temperatures. I was dressed for the occasion and was never cold. Heavy winter coat, snowmobile boots, good gloves and so on.

We were in Swaziland in 1999. My father had just died and we were there for the funeral. We were going out one night. I was dressed in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. One of the locals looked at me and said I could not go out like that. I thought I was breaking some sort of local protocol. He explained that it was too cold. How cold is it? I asked. 10C, he says. I laughed. Call me when it gets to -20C. He thought about that for a moment then exclaimed that he had no idea what that would feel like.

Nahed Rushdy was at our house in Montreal for a visit. My mother always insisted that I drive everyone home. Too cold to have people wait for the bus. This evening was no different. We were all ready to leave when Nahed remarked about my lack of a winter coat. She insisted that a coat was in order, a sweater was just not warm enough. She even went so far as to remark that it was not more manly to behave the way I was. Fetneh came to my rescue. She sighed, he is not being manly, he is never cold. She sounded a bit exasperated, she was always cold.

I could not leave the house this past winter without a coat. It was not even a cold winter. Depressing. I have also lost my tolerance for heat. Cannot take a hot shower, drink hot beverages or food.

I have trouble adjusting to the slightest change in the condition of my stomach. I have a huge tolerance for foods, able to digest the most formidable of things. Indian food is back on the white list, as is Ethiopian food. The hot pepper sauce that some food joints love to add to your food is big on the no list. Mexican and middle east house are particularly partial to these sauces. Almost like adding Tabasco sauce to a meal. Every meal is becoming an adventure. I have yet to develop a concrete idea of what sends my stomach into a turmoil of activity. My tolerance for different foods changes all the time. Salads are good some days, and not on others.

I think, looking back, that my first inkling that my tolerances are changing should have taken place in the hospital. I was terrible at taking drugs, with my body reacting in totally unpredictable ways. Hardly the time to become conscious of tolerances, I must admit. As I said, looking back…

Every day since the operation has carried a relevance of sorts into what the body can tolerate. I looked at my naked body in a full length mirror the other day. It happened quite by accident. Came out of the bathroom in our hotel room in New York to find myself in front of the mirror. My body has gone through its fair share of changes over the years, from athletic to overweight to the sudden and unexpected battering that was the operation.

A bag, a scar, a port-a-cath. The bruises, the result of the new set of self administered injections. The bruises are expected, though hardly welcome. The body keeps absorbing the abuse that is heaped upon it. The visible signs surely point to the more extensive damage that was done internally, not just by the operation, but the myriad number of drugs it is forced to absorb.

Tolerances build up over time. Sometimes through ignorance of what is really going on. Other times though ignoring the many signs that are pointing in a very definite direction. The symptoms of my condition were there for a long time. I could no longer eat as much as I used to. Some foods had started disagreeing with me. I put it down to a changing constitution brought on by old age. At least older age. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I was sitting in La Guardia airport waiting for our flight home. Alarms went off. Soldiers came running. No guns were pulled. The soldiers stopped in front of a corridor and started chatting, then laughing, seemingly oblivious to the alarm itself. The public was not moved, no one reacted to the alarm. Another new normal.

Tolerance levels have changed.

Janet and I had a bunch of question for Dr. Hedley. They cantered primarily around the need to continue the Chemo Sessions if they were no longer effective. What were the repercussions of taking a Chemo Vacation at this point, or at the end of August as he was planning> Taking a vacation now would allow us to enjoy the summer.

We are slowly realizing that a lot of decisions are ours to make. If we want to quit the Chemo Session, than quit it is. We are in charge of our treatments. The doctors are there to guide and advise us. The ultimate decision is ours. This is a bit freaky. We are never sure if we are making the right decisions or not. Do we have the right amount of information to make a decision? Is it the right decision? To make matters worse, the doctors themselves are not sure either.

Every body reacts differently to the drugs. We were at a small party celebrating Kali’s birthday the other day. One of the friends has a brother with very advanced lung cancer. The gave him one Chemo session to which he reacted very badly. All the stuff they keep expecting me to go through. So sorry to disappoint. They removed his brother from any further Chemo treatments. So are you still on Chemo, he asks me. Yes. How long have you been on Chemo. Almost a year now, since last October. He was dumbfounded. I do not look or behave like a Chemo patient. Except for the afternoon naps. We are all different.

My blood work showed more positive results than last time. My liver enzymes are closer to where they should be with one indicative being totally in the normal range.

Dr. Hedley brought up the fact that we have not had a break since this thing started. I started feeling the pains in June 2009. By August 1, the diagnosis was fairly complete and certain. Operation on September 2, Chemo in October. Yikes. A year without a break. The doctor saw no reason why we should not stop the treatments right now and take our vacation. A CT-Scan was planned for Friday (today) to set a baseline for the future. Next CT-Scan in two months. Chemo would only start again if my situation deteriorates. A steady condition will result in a longer vacation.

A two month Chemo Vacation is on the books. Cannot believe it. I am in a bit of a daze. Basically what happens when you receive bad news or terrifically good news. You cannot believe your ears and shut down. Two months with no Chemo.

Janet and I stared at each other. What do you say? How do you react?

Doctor Hedley wanted to feel my stomach to make sure all was right. I suggested that things were still a bit tender. I can lift heavier bags now, but feel some discomfort if I overdo things. I am sure the healing process will speed up without the Chemo getting in the way. He appeared to confirm this. Good news. I am looking into going to the pool on a regular basis to strengthen the stomach a bit. I get bored swimming. Back and forth, you go. I will have to do it nevertheless.

Can we start eating raw meats again? I miss my steak tartar, sushi, and oysters. I was given the green light for sushi. Say it ain’t so. We decided on the spot that we would have that for dinner to celebrate. Diana, Nancy and her daughter Lily are coming over. Makes for a grand celebration.

Dr Hedley mentioned that we are in really good hands with his nurse, Shahnaz. We truly are. She is magnificent. She mentioned how much the nurses in the Chemo daycare like me. I walk in with my big laugh and cheer them up. The doctor just shook his head. All the nurses love him he says. Then gives me a gigantic hug before leaving.

Janet and I were left alone for a few minutes in the consulting room. She high fived me. This is the first time in almost a year were I could a glimmer of hope in her eyes. She seemed ecstatic over the news. She had a bright smile and a glitter to her eyes. That was enough to make me happy.

I phoned Fetneh and Fo’ad that night. It is always good to talk to them after news like this. It helps air my thoughts, clear the cobwebs a bit, get some perspective. I eMailed them of course, but that was not clear enough for them. Fetneh was jumping for joy. She made me promise to not withdraw from life because of this. The are chances of withdrawal symptoms creeping in if you are not careful. The hospital has been a home away from home, as it were. A very safe place to spend time in. You get sort of attached to these things. The routine. However horrible the Chemo experience is, you get used to the routine. The people. The support.

I assure her that I will not regress. I will keep the blog going. I may have a bit of trouble adjusting to the new freedom. We will see.

Fo’ad was just as supportive, of course. How does this change life? I don’t know. My curly head of hair may even make a comeback. I see no negatives in any of this. I become so much stronger when I am off Chemo for even a week. This can only be good.

We have lots of plans. We have been invited to all sorts of places. Long trips are out of the question. One day excursions within the vicinity of Toronto can be done. We are going to see Anne and Frank in Pickering, John and Sharon have invited us to their horse farm, Heather and Neil want us to go their farm. Heather reminded me that it is almost a year to the day when we went to their farm to share the news. Their friend Beth was there, also a cancer patient. She had a long conversation with me about what to expect. Strange to think of that now.

Devin is leaving us to go pursue a master degree in Change Management at the New School in New York City. We should be flying down on August 21. Sadness and happiness combined. I am ever so proud of him.

September will see me visit Montreal again to spend some time with Hong Lan. Janet will be attending the film festival in Toronto. My visit to Montreal will take some pressure off her. I have to talk to Hong Lan a bit more about what her remedies are. Stuff that includes acupuncture to increase energy levels. She deluged with so much information that I had trouble absorbing it all. A revisit is a must. To say nothing of spending time with Fetneh, of course. I will try and stay in the same apartment as before, taking advantage of Steve Mykolyn’s generosity. It is good to have a space of your own, specially when you are in my condition.

I lay down when we got home. All this stuff is a bit overwhelming. We had dinner and I returned to bed and made my phone calls.

Yesterday was my very first day of this vacation. I slept for a couple of hours in the afternoon. I also wandered around the house a bit lost. I have so many things to do, so many projects on the go. Where to start? Sleep of course. I am having lunch with Kali today. Looking forward to that. Planning the trip to New York when I get home from that.

Tomorrow is a new day. Taking us back to another sense of normalcy. Can’t wait.

Wake up, wash, dress, breakfast, work, coffee, meeting, lunch, run, meeting, coffee, meeting, meeting, home, cook, eat, TV, sleep.

Tired just writing that.

My journey started in September as you all know. Dr. Hedley was very reassuring even then, or should that be specially then. He warned us of what was to come in gentle tone. Nothing he could have said would have earned us enough. One of the items of note was that we would get accustomed to everything. That everything would appear to be normal at some point. That we would understand the system and be able to use it as it should be.

I have been going for chemo sessions since the month of October, I think. Loosing track of things.  Janet would come with me. Holding on tight lest I run for the hills. We would sit in the Chemo Daycare waiting room wondering what was taking so long. Who do we ask? Can we ask? What do we ask? Hey, bud, I have a 2:30 appointment, it is now 3:30, what’s up? I mean, like, really, do we get to go in already or what?

The questions came out with a bit of hesitation. How much longer do we have to wait? Please and thank you.

Janet would sit with me through the whole 3 hour session. Reading, talking, asking, peering inquisitively at my face for any telltale changes that might signal alarm. I remember the first session, where the fabulous Sharon looked after us. Calmly we were told what to expect. Except when when I started getting really hot. Allergies. Moi, allergic to drugs, say it ain’t so. Nothing an injection of whatever won’t take care of. She was happy we mentioned it. Most people think it is normal and do not mention what is going on. Not yours truly. Very vocal about everything.

We are now 7 months into the program. Session after session with few surprises. Once in a while, a nurse gives out  tip that appears to be totally inconsequential. There is so much information, that it all comes out in dribs and drabs. My third chemo drug is something called 5FU. You figure out what it stands for, I have my own acronyms all laid out. This drug comes in the baby bottle called an infuser. It is attached to my Port-a-cath and takes about 46 hours to deplete itself into my blood stream. The connector between the infuser and my Port-a-cath is taped to my chest. At first we thought that was just convenience. Turns out that heat makes the infuser work better. Heat from the chest allows for a more even flow. I know sleep with my hand over the connector to increase the heat element. Turns out that activity also makes the drug flow faster since you are increasing the amount of heat your body releases. My last nurse gave me a small lecture about making the drug flow faster. I am usually done in 42 hours instead of 46. Small victories. The nurse was adamant that I should not rush things. They are supposed to take the time they are set for. Whatever. So I will die a couple of hours earlier than I should. Sue me.

My last chemo session was on April 20th at 10:30AM. It was as uneventful as all the others have become. I was ushered in on time and out on time as well. There was only one major difference between this and previous sessions.

I went there in public transportation, all by myself, like a big boy. Went through the session all by myself, and finally home by public transportation, all on my own again.  It was very smooth. There are too many people on the streetcars at that time of day. It felt good in some ways to be able to do things by yourself.

Routine.

Back to chemo daycare after an extra week off to celebrate the Baha’i New Year. That was on March 25. A very uneventful day as all visits to the Chemo Daycare unit are turning into. The nurse showed up as promised. I had the pleasure of seeing Natalie again. Unplugged in no time. No fuss [...]

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