War

Something awoke me just before 4:00am this morning. I lay there listening. the listening turned to thinking –thinking’s not what I wanted, I craved sleep.

Later, after the girls and C. rose to bicker over what cereal combo to break their fast with, I headed over to the beach with Lucy…to think.

The other day C contacted her colleague and now “cancer twin”, SN: weirdly, she was diagnosed a few months before C. with the same form of breast cancer. From our perspective SN has been ahead of the curve, although much more waiting for diagnosis, treatments, surgery –she’s had to wait and wait all along the way. Anyway she’d gone in for a checkup with her onc after some coughing spells and visions problems –the onc ordered scans and met with her on Friday to discuss the results.

This morning as I prepared for the dog walk, C. received an e-mail from SN. The kids yelled as they gobbled down as much cereal as possible; I tried my as-usual unsuccessful bid to spread a sense of calm. I noticed C. shuddering, looking down, tear drops falling on the iPhone in her lap. I looked at the screen–the title of the e-mail: Bad News.

Hugs all around, the kids shuffling in for long sweet embraces. Lucy and I headed out.

The reality with cancer is it’s a fucking rat-bastard that drags us into a take no prisoners war. Sure we fight, win battles and the war rages on. We constantly have to be ready to rally the troops, fortify our defenses, and FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT.

Many thoughts skipped across my consciousness as I stared out to sea trying to catch sight of a much more elusive monster, Cadborosaurus. It started to rain, then I realized the sky was clear and I was crying. Crying for SN, who hoped, prayed and deserved to win this war. We know now she has more battles to fight. No truce, no quarter given, kill the fucking rat-bastard. Crying for SN, for C., for me, for S. and F., Nana, Popa. Crying for us all.

The tears are dry: we’re ready for whatever. Bring it on you fucking rat-bastard.

Lights

The last few years have been exhausting -- nights of screaming, yelling, crying Childe F.. C. is usually the one to rise and deal with the ever demanding beast, I just lay awake, keeping her side of the bed warm while waiting for the wailing to die down before she stumbles back to bed. It's not that I'm selfish, it's just that my nighttime presence sends F. into an even uglier rage-fest. Ferberizing is the cure; it did take for a time before F. arrived on the strategy of puking while crying. This isn't easily ignored and the clean ups are more involved. We know it'll pass eventually, but it sure seems like it's taking it's sweet time.

This morning wasn't much different with the except C. stayed a bit longer abed as it takes a while for her gut muscles take up the slack where normally she'd be using her arms --she can't use them because the risk of damaging the two seams running up her chest where her boobs once resided. She's healing well, and full of energy. I know the inability to drive and the freedom it brings, annoys her, but there is light at the end of that tunnel too. The drains come out early this coming week, the healing progressing quickly to the point of better mobility and all that brings.

As prepared myself for the morning walk with the dog, F. announced she wanted to come. So while I was getting dog paraphernalia (bags, balls, leash, etc.) F. hussled and got her boots and jacket on --raring to go.

We made it as far as the end of our short cul-de-sac before she went ass-over-tea-kettle on the side of the road. She walked slower until we crossed the road and into Gyro Park. The sun was shining, the birds singing, a skein of ducks flew overhead and landed in a large puddle --Lucy took after them and F. charged to the playground. For the first time, in a long time, I had a moment to meditate and reflect of the beauty of where and how we live. At that moment, I knew that everything was going to be be OK. No voice of God or anything, just the sheer certainty that it was going to be alright. Guess I finally caught a glimpse of that long forgotten light.

Here

A blast of cold from the Arctic payed Victoria a visit last week. We noticed the usual symptoms: icy windshields and muttered mentions of the S-word. When the snow finally arrived, we woke to a beautiful white Wednesday morning. I felt sad the girls weren't clamouring by the window to go play. Still, it was great to wake with my babe next to me.

Early Tuesday, I'd fetched C. home from Royal Jubilee Hospital where she finally had the much anticipated boob removal done the morning before. The girls were whisked away to spend a glorious few nights with Nana and Popa and their iconic cousin, Em. I felt grateful and lonely.

It's strange seeing C. so whittled down --the cleansing diet of January, the embracing of a vegetarianism, the magic juice elixir, and now the pirate's treasure chest, halves her physique to its essentials.

In anticipation of the surgery, we jetted off to Palm Springs for a week of R&R sans kids. I've never been there, but despite the high cost of everything, I'd return in a flash. Lovely heat with no humidity.

Once back to reality and work, I found the week-long wait too much for me. Migraine headaches, spotty vision, gamey guts plagued me through the week. By Thursday I was walking a tightrope of anxiety; then I lost it. No excuse but I can try: major deadlines looming, a change for the worse in work portfolio, my boss avoiding my gaze, and the capper of a colleague nuking the better part of a day's work sent me over the edge. I swore --loudly. I proclaimed I was done and done and done. I lurched over to the office manager, told her I was sick and left. No recall of the drive home, although on arrival I know that I was sad that C. wasn't around --I needed a shoulder to bawl on. In the basement, I layed on the spare couch and stared at the ceiling.

I made my apologies the next day and put my head down to reclaim the time lost. All displacement activity; I admit I don't have the best coping skills.

We had the weekend to get ourselves organized before the dreaded Monday morning surgery. Tuesday C. came home, Wednesday it snowed, Thursday again with the snow and the kids came home, Friday brought a whole new scene with the kids being sweet and understanding. A weekend to wind myself up for the impending return to work yet again; a few mindless work days trying to catch up on two weeks absence, then here we are, hump day. Time flies eh?

C. is healing quickly and eager to renew her entire wardrobe. She dreams of clothes she never contemplated wearing with her now departed bazooms. I sense a shopping trip to Vancouver is in the works --for me there are many friends and family to catch up with. I think we'll need a month. I look forward to it. See you soon.

Ado

Definitely about nothing.

Despite my best intentions, I've accomplished so little since starting holidays on Tuesday. I hoped to paint the dining room and get the last remnants of the wallpaper off the entrance wall. I started peeling off that damn paper almost a year ago! The problem is is time and opportunity. So little of either to devote to the effort of ladder lugging and climbing, scraping, washing, blah blah blah.
The dining room is another matter as I've tested three different shades; we don't like, never mind love any of those colours. I think white will be the fall-back. Sigh.

I did manage to steam-clean the carpets in the basement, the numerous area rugs, and the white chair Frances drew all over with blue ink. The carpet look so much less funky --the various eating accidents, Lucy pee, barf, general wear and tear extracted makes everything seem new.

Although it's kind of late, I hung more lights on the maple trees out front after I pruned off last year's growth, but I still need to pick up all the branches and climb the roof to finish the eave-line of coloured lights. I was 10-feet short so the strand runs beautifully for 7/8ths of the house then nothing --looks goofy.

With a too short ladder and winds coming as gusting gales, I've been timidly hanging over the edge and hoping nothing blows me down onto the driveway a thousand feet below... well it looks like you could basejump from the roof, but it's only 35' or so. Too far to fall and jump back up with a smile on your face.

Carissa's been baking and scheming over holidays feasts and treats. The kids very interested in helping stir with hopes of licking the spoon. She's been trying to do all this while having her radiation treatments --with a few stumbles on the way. The radiation has onl;y begun but I can tell it's taking some toll on her energy. It would be so much worse if she wasn't so steadfast in her super healthy diet. She has more
get-and-go than when she was "healthy". A regular Wonderwoman, that gal o'mine

Whoosh

Tempus fugit and all that.
The 2nd course of 4 treatments is complete –a short pause until radiation and surgery. It’s not been good, but it is better.
Now for something else… my inbred loathing of Christmas being at odds with with a gaggle of girls all cranked up and wobbly with the thrill of the big day. I know: the smell of the tree, the music, the baking, the, the, the ….stuff.
Now I find myself coming around to the season. So many reasons’ not to be bummed and low. We’re taking advantage of the opportunity to forget and live it up a bit in the eye of this stormy year.
I try to imagine being without all that this life has brought me. The paradoxes that are my girls astounds me. The gleam in my S.’s eyes as she plots how to not get a lump of coal, while suspecting she might be deserving. F.’s wide eyed innocence that hides a tenacity of will and spirit that will crush lesser beings that choose to resist.  C.’s pure beauty, a physical presence that still makes me gasp. Super cool and classy. Smart. She’s not a bad cook either.

So here I am, weirdly excited and frightened about Christmas and the coming year. I plan to enjoy the moment with love, patience and joy of being with family and friends.
I’m not a big one for quotes, as my writing tends to be cliched enough, but this one makes too much sense not to share:
A good holiday is one spent among people whose notions of time are vaguer than yours. - John B. Priestly
I plan to do just that.
Cheers, PT

Now what

So my gal has cancer of the boobs or rather boob.
We spent a weekend in 'vegas a few weeks ago, the first break we've had alone and together in a mighty long time and discovered this annoying little lump in the left'un.
Since we met I've been torn between which is my fav, although I've felt a special fondness for the lefty.
Next week we'll find out if they take it away now or after the chemo --if after, then around Christmas.
This weekend we're heading to Sooke Harbour House -I've always wanted to go but it's been a little too rich for me. We've tended to keep going up to Point No Point, an awesome getaway with an equally awesome restaurant. However SHH is famed far and wide for it's restaurant, and both of us being food geeks, want to give it a go.

We're looking forward to the trip away. The dog and kids to be tended by Nana and Poppa, the best parents (in-law in my case) anyone could wish for.

This weekend will be fraught with emotion; not something I'm used to, but I've been experiencing a lot of the downside of that emotion recently. Things like blubbering in my cubicle at work, going off on my wife's friend for acting like a slighted teenager, and yelling incoherently at our dog for chewing the crap out of my 20 year old birks. I'm ready to experience some of the upside just by being with my love... and eating great food, and drinking (perhaps) too much.

Research or wanking?

I've offered to participate in several group initiatives at work...

Now my research is kind of blending together --in the midst of researching a topic I find an interesting link that would benefit me to explore more for one of the other initiatives. At first I'd launch it in another tab and then follow-up later. The problem with following-up means I spend hours just reading, but not actually accomplishing anything. Not a great thing to do in a meritcracy.

The best tool that allows me to defer follow-up is social bookmarking with del.icio.us.

This leads to another issue --there end up being so many similarly tagged items to explore. Off I go into the depths of the internets, getting lost in the tubes.

Is this research or just wanking?