I went to Montreal last weekend. It was a dual purpose weekend. The first was to see Fetneh of course. We spent three days together. The second was to see Hong Lan and continue our eduction, more specifically, my education.

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.

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.

Date: July 2010<br />
Location: Montreal</p>
<p> How many different fabrics can you get in one picture. Reflecting windows, old structures, Chinese pavilions, tunnels, cars, it is all there.
Date: July 2010
Location: Montreal

How many different fabrics can you get in one picture. Reflecting windows, old structures, Chinese pavilions, tunnels, cars, it is all there.

Date: July 2010

Location: Old Montreal

Story: How many different fabrics can you get in one picture. Reflecting windows, old structures, Chinese pavilions, tunnels, cars, it is all there.

The last Chemo session was followed by Neulasta and its effects. We took another week off to go to Montreal. No fuss from anyone. Live your life being our latest motto. And live we will.

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.

Not easy.

I have spent a lifetime helping others with no expectations. I have not been the centre of attention. In spite of how extroverted I appear to be, I am not comfortable being the centre of attention. I started doing the family laundry at the age of 15. I would help my mother vacuum. Wash the windows every spring. We had storm windows which meant you were washing two sets of windows. That was just the way it was.

My parents held firesides every Wednesday night. Firesides are events held in Baha’i houses where we tell non-Baha’is about the Faith. A lot of people would show up for these evenings. We would end up feeding a lot of the students, providing dinner for about 20 people. Fetneh and I had supporting roles. She would help with the cooking. We would set the table, clear the table, wash the dishes and help get things ready for the coffee/tea that would be served at the end. Mom would inevitably make her patented banana cake covered with fresh cream and more bananas. Yum.

At the end of the evening, I would end up driving a bunch of people home. Mom would insist. It was too cold. For those of you who have not experienced a Montreal winter, I suggest you go there for a vaction anytime n January or February. It will forever change your notions of what cold really is. In the days before Global Warming, we would regularly see winter temperatures of 30 below zero last through the whole winter (at those temperatures, it matters little if it is Farenheit or Celsius). And if it was not cold, it was warm enough to snow, which you had to shovel before it froze as temperatures dipped again. Montreal would average 150 inches of snow a year.

We went to Swaziland when my father died in 1999. We had to pack up his stuff. ShooShoo was there with me. We were going out to see some friends one night. I was dressed in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. The locals were horrified. You can’t go out like that, they said. I did not recall any African rites that stopped me from wearing either shorts or Hawaaian shirts. No, no, they said, too cold. It will be 10 Celsius tonight. Yeah, OK. Call me when it gets to minus 20. The guy looked at me. I thought maybe I spoke too fast, but no. He looked at me and said he cannot even imagine that sort of cold. True enough. Until you live through a Montreal winter, you have no idea what cold is. Though I am told that Winnipeg might beat Montreal.

My life has been nothing but not being the centre of attention and looking after others. I am no angel, mind. People have called me all sorts of things. I am painfully aware of my shortcomings.

Going from looking after people to being looked after is very hard. No, that’s not strong enough. Excrutiatingly hard. Having to ask Devin for a glass of water because I could not get up to get my own. To watch Leslie clean the house and not be able to help. To not be able to go shopping for food. To have to rely on someone, anyone for the least of things. Not good. And not easy to get accustomed to.I would often escape to the bedroom with the pretense of being tired.

Things have improved though. I am a lot stronger. Getting stronger on a daily basis. Vacuumed the house the other day. Went down to the basement and brought up the vacuum cleaner and did the whole house, returning the cleaner to the basement. I was tired, but it was a good tired, and I was fully prepared to pay the price. I am driving now, which means I can go shopping. I just have to be really careful to not buy too much because the bags become too heavy. Multiple trips are de rigueur. Things are improving.

The guilt that comes from not being able to do things is almost impossible to come to grips with.

The guilt that comes from receiving the love of friends and relatives is an interesting reality. There should be no guilt there. That is what friends are for. To love you in spite of your shortcomings, or maybe because of them. This journey has shown me an amazing amount of love and support form all sorts of friends and relatives, and some very unexpected sources. You cannot help that you are putting people out in some way. Yes, I know. People do not feel put out. They would not come and support me if they did not feel like it. There is little doubt that you feel the love, the unrestrained need to come and visit and talk, if no other reason than to make sure you are OK and not about to disappear down some abyss. I also realise that a lot of that support is directed at Janet and Devin.

The guilt is still there. I will deal with it. Come to terms with it. Acccept it. Dispel it.

© 2010 I Have Cancer Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha