Two Days After Superbowl Sunday

February 9, 2010 was a day I’ll never forget. It was two days after the Superbowl and the festivities had already faded. My dad was being discharged from the Victoria General Hospital, not because he was well enough to go home, but because there was nothing more “they” could do for him. In late January, he was admitted with symptoms of nausea which turned out to be a serious bowel obstruction for which he required surgery. Peri-operatively, the surgeon discovered widespread metastatic cancer, which had gone undetected in a CT scan a few weeks earlier. So the operation was completed and Dad spent a few more days in hospital recovering .

With the prescription of T3’s in hand, I prepared his transport wheelchair so that we could get to the car and go to the BC Cancer Agency. It was our understanding that a PICC line would be started so that Dad could begin immediate chemotherapy. Dad was grumpy that day and he refused the wheelchair, choosing to walk out of the hospital on foot – I could not convince him to conserve his energy.

However, the PICC line was never inserted. The oncologist at the cancer clinic explained that chemotherapy was not indicated as the cancer was far too widespread to be affected by chemotherapy, and the negative side effects would likely outweigh the benefits. So the “fragile” conversation began. Carefully worded questions were followed by painfully vague answers. I just wanted to know how long. EVERYONE will want to know: how much more time does he have? I knew that my parents were shocked, worn, fatigued, and sad - my job was to get this information right. I knew I would be repeating this story over and over and over again and I HAD to get it right!! I was the only trained healthcare professional in the immediate family – I was the self-designated quarterback, for now ....

So I made sure to listen carefully and clarify: “A few months – as long as there is no major event” A FEW MONTHS!?! But he was fine at Christmas, 6 weeks ago!! Then bloodwork was done, nausea set in, and he was taken to hospital -- now you are telling me a few months!! I switched off the emotional side and thought of clarifying questions that “people” will want to know. I had to keep it together, help, support, think, remember, and listen. The visit didn’t stop there: there were prescriptions to fill (forget those T3’s, it was time for the deluxe narcotics), appointments with home nursing and the outpatient pain clinic to be made, and paperwork to be completed. Who knew that I’d be filling out the Palliative Care Benefits paperwork only 6 weeks after Christmas!

I dreaded going home to an almost empty house to make those phone calls to share the devastating news with my siblings. Now I was going to have to be the one answering carefully worded questions with fragile, vague answers – I was, after all, the quarterback.

(Despite the gravity of that day, I still feel honoured to have been there. Our family was treated with overwhelming compassion and support from all the staff, professionals and volunteers at the BC Cancer Agency. It made the whole experience slightly more tolerable to be surrounded by caring and kind strangers. A huge thank you to all of the individuals who dedicate their time and energy to helping patients and families with the experience of cancer)

I’m Starting To Sound Like My Mom Although She Never Used The Word "Skanky"

So, there I was on Mother’s Day, minding my own business, having a nice dinner, when my sister asked me “Have you seen the ‘Telephone’ video with Lady Gaga...." We grabbed the computer and watched:

With eyebrows furrowed and head shaking I sat through the nine and a half minutes of vulgar skank. Although I still feel relatively young at heart, I know I’m totally out of touch with pop culture. I don’t get it – and I guess there’s no going back! I can handle the “pop divas” from a few years ago like Fergie and Christina but that’s where the line was drawn and I turned into my mother.

I just don’t get Gaga. It’s just wrong. I don’t want my daughter watching this crap. I don’t think it’s art – I think it’s attention grabbing stunts, “costumes” (if you can call police tape a costume), and choreography disguised as music. It’s all about shocking the audience and getting people talking, and downloading... There is nothing about Lady Gaga that I would want my daughter to emulate. Most of the women in this video look anorexic, deadpan (submissive?) expressions, in some sort of freak prison/ homicidal greasy spoon cafe... It’s just wrong.

If my Mom could see well enough to watch this nasty video, I’m sure she would mutter the word: “whores” (she would pronounce it Who-ers) and I would politely correct her and say “Mom, these days, they’re called Ho’s.” Then she probably would have grounded me. To appease, I would show her the video from another artist with the same initials as Lady Gaga, Lesley Gore. Okay watch this if you can stand it!!




Okay, not my idea of a great video either. But it shows how far the music industry has come and how the audience now demands ridiculous to be entertained. Imagine what would have happened if Lady Gaga got on that bus!!

2010 Linear Walk - Completed!

Well, I did it! No, I did not complete an Ironman or stand on any podiums, but I got off my ass consistently 3 days a week for months to get my feet and legs in shape for a 32K walk from the Juan de Fuca Rec Centre to the Sooke Castle! My first "Linear Walk"...

I must admit, it was not as hard as I thought it would be, primarily because I stuck to a formal training schedule, for the first time in my life... The schedule was not very technical, but it was created by 2 physiotherapists and a marathon runner, so it was well thought out. For 3 months, it was shuffled around my kitchen, as I had intended to type it up formally, but I grew to love the doodling and coffee stains. It was my guide to fitness as my training became one of the most positive aspects of my crisis-filled life. It was my time to think, cry, reflect, re-energize, and listen to my ipod without any distractions!

My training gave me some sanity through two of the most difficult months of my life, as my father was found to have a recurrence of an aggressive form of colon cancer, from which he received a whirlwind of tests, subsequent surgery, only to be followed by a poor prognosis and rapidly declining health. At times, I thought that my walk in May would become a memorial walk for my dad, but he is continuing to fight to this day. I was proud to visit him the morning of the walk to administer his medication and to tell him "Today is the day I do my walk, Dad". From his bed (where he spent 23.5 hours/day on average), he smiled, nodded his head, and said "Don't forget to drink lots of water".

It's hard to believe that when I started training in January, he was up and about 16 hours/day, and puttering in the yard every chance he got, working on my sister's truck, tinkering with old electronics or doing yard work. I almost felt guilty during the following months - as I was working on gaining strength, my dad was losing strength so profoundly. I never skipped a day of training, other than taking a week off with a bad cold, and not a kilometre went by when I didn't think of him and his enduring strength....