Ode to the Winter Solstice...by Val

Ode to the Winter Solstice

&

Season’s Greetings

by

Val the Athiest

The month of December

Is a calendaric monstrosity.

It is a time when chronology

Recapitulates ontological religiosity.

On the winter Solstice,

The Pagans have their say

And, let us be clear…

It is a dark, dark day!

In this dark month

The Eight Days of Chanukah

Are celebrated by the Jews.

Their festival of lights

Claims the victory of the Maccabees

Over those ancient Syrian fools.

On march the Christians

Claiming December 25^th as The Most Holy Day.

The Messiah has emerged from the

Virgin’s womb, they shout.

Repent and convert all you

Pagan and Jewish louts!

Luckily the New Year will soon be welcomed in.

A fresh new calendar, a fresh new vision…

Rise up secular humanists and religious moderates,

Rise up spiritual atheists and agnostics.

Let us come together

And save ourselves from dogmatic religious division!

Evolution, evolution stay the course.

Let ontogeny and phylogeny

Guide ontology.

Let a culture of awakening guide

Human consciousness into

A grand, loving and kind tour de force.

Merry Christmas!

Just a quick note to wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

We are spending the holiday break at the cottage; lucky us. It's the first time in three years we've been able to get up there and I am really looking forward to it. Val went up a few days ago with our friend Yvonne. The cottage had been empty since my one overnight in late October. It was cold to the bone when Val and Yvonne arrived on Thursday, and it took a full 24 hours to warm up. The water is running in the taps and the kitchen drains are working as they should. I'm bringing fresh food. What more do we need? Oh yes. There's wine and martini fixings, as well as Scotch. There, now what more do we need?

The outside temps have been like Vancouver recently, although Boxing Day is supposed to bring us proper Manitoba weather again: minus 20 with bright sunshine. Bring it on, say I. These slushy mushy days of drizzle and grey are no way to spend the winter months; at least not in Winnipeg!

Colin is still waiting for a spot in a long-term home. Mum is settling in to her new way of life. Charles, Lisa and Max and Sam are spending a good chunk of time over Christmas with Mum at Willow Way; Katy and her partner, Guy, will spend Christmas Day with Dad and then overnight at Willow Way.

I am tired and grateful to have finally arrived at this evening. The New Year will bring what it will. For the moment, all is well with us. May you be blessed with peace and contentment, wherever you are and however you mark this season.

Love,
Amanda

More of the same

Colin remains in hospital, where his body continues to chug along and his mind is kept lively by reading books (My Life in France by Julia Childs is his current focus) and chatting on his cell phone to his various family members and friends. It will take some time to find a long-term care home placement for him, but that is the plan. 

Meanwhile, Anne is accommodating to life on her own at Willow Way. From our frequent conversations with her, it seems that visitors come and go often (some bringing shopping, others doing chores around the house, some just visiting). Last week, she was taken out by friends to celebrate her 86th birthday, which took place officially on Nov. 4th.

In Winnipeg, Val and Amanda are both in various stages of a regular head cold. We should be through it all by next week, here's hoping anyway. 

Winter has arrived with some snow and some cold. Nothing like poor Buffalo got and thank goodness for that! 

The new garage is wonderful: We drive in and out, using the automatic door, with great pleasure. 

I don't remember Dad with a beard, but he grew one for many years. I do remember him smoking, and all his various attempts to quit, which he eventually did in the early 70s when we lived in England. 

Mum celebrating her 86th birthday with friends recently. 

Our car parked, as we used to do it. 

Our car parked, as we now do it. It's a tight fit, not an inch wasted, not a problem. 

The structure itself in all its not-yet-sided glory. That will come in the spring. 

Colin update

Colin remains in hospital, now in a 2-bed room, and holding his own. Today, Anne and her good friend Connie procured a new cell phone with a call-all-you-want monthly plan and took it to Colin; he is now, once again, in touch with the outside world. He likes chatting on the phone. 

Where this is all going, we don't know, but going home to Willow Way is no longer an option; he just needs too much care. So. Anne is adjusting to life without full-time nursing duties, and Colin waits to see if a nursing home bed comes open sooner...or later. 

In the mean time, I've found a few photos from Colin's younger days. He was a truly dashing young man. 

Colin, circa 1961 (maybe '62). Katy on left, Amanda on right. 

Colin with his lovely Aunty Marjie; she is the aunt who rode on the back of his motorcycle (see below) and who was an entrepreneurial importer of coffee. Here is the accurate story, courtesy of Anne: "Aunty Marjie's coffee business was special. the coffee was called Blue Danube, a Viennese type roast that included figs; only high-class grocers stocked it, for the enjoyment of connoisseurs, so it was a fairly limited market. Marjie and her brother Geoffrey started the business and created the roast  from their memories of coffee they had  enjoyed in Vienna." A woman ahead of her time. This photo is from 1948.

Colin looks younger here than in the photo by the fireplace. Mum tells me this photo is from 1942. 

Updates: Colin and garage

The fall has been lovely, but winter is coming. I must get the windows washed! 

Colin is in hospital, having become weaker and weaker over the past 10 days or so. I was in Edmonton for a long weekend in late October, and he was just managing at home with phenomenal care from Mum and the homecare workers. This weekend, Katy was there and Dad couldn't manage getting in or out of bed on his own anymore, so the paramedics took him to a local  hospital. We now wait for news about his next move, possibly into a nursing home (the paperwork for which has been underway over the past week; thank goodness for this timing). Stay tuned. 

Val continues to recover and re-enter regular life. She doesn't have the stamina she would like and is easily tired, but she pushes on and is teaching two yoga classes a week, plus is deep into another session of teacher training at the yoga studio. Life goes on.

On a more mundane front, our garage is coming along well. These pics show where we're at. The roof should be up and on this week; we won't side the building til the spring. 

Our latest project

All continues along here. I am busy with quite large classes this term, and Val is teaching two, sometimes three, yoga classes a week. We are both tired and convincing ourselves we are enjoying this return to a normal pace...

And, just in case, we might be bored without all those endless medical appointments, we've decided to finally have the garage torn down and rebuilt by Paul Willems and his crew, Paint 'n Hammer (who also did the gorgeous paint job on our house in July). 

Wow. When a structure comes down, it sure opens up the property: Right down the alley to the next block! Tomorrow, a security fence will go up, and then, I guess, the old pad will be ripped out and re-poured and construction can start once that is cured.

Let's hope it all comes together before any major snow falls! 

Ours is the terra cotta house on the left: New paint job, old garage

Hey presto: Garage gone! For those of you who know the house,
note the new green awnings we splurged on after the paint job. 

From just outside the back door...
all the way down the alley to the next block

The backyard seems quite big without the garage. 

New awnings close-up

Val's birthday

Val's birthday weekend began with an appointment Friday afternoon at CancerCare to have her port removed - yahoo, no more need for that! Yvonne came over for a fun dinner that evening. Saturday we tidied out the garage (oh joy), had leftovers for supper and watched another episode of Foyle's War, a BBC WWII drama we are really enjoying. This evening we're having dinner with Randa. In the meantime, my parents and sister have called, and Erika dropped by this morning with a tray of birthday cookies. And the weather is sunny, so it's a good day here at our house! 

Birthday cookies from Erika, Eva and Jacki. Delicious! 

Val playing Scrabble last weekend in the gazebo at the cottage. She won. 

Val's Birthday Eve gift was a Scrabble mug. If she finishes the drink,
she gets a Triple Letter Score on the bottom of the mug!

Val's Birthday gift was a cordless rechargeable snow blower. She can't wait for the snow to come! 

Val at the cottage last weekend getting ready to head outside in the drizzle. Look at those curls under the hat! 

Update

Val met with Dr. Brandes (medical oncologist) earlier this week. He is very pleased with her current condition.

The CT scan was clear, her blood work numbers are good, and her skin has healed remarkably well from the vicious radiation treatments back in May. Her fatigue remains significant, which is the long-term effect of the radiation treatments likely aggravated by the Letrazole (estrogen-blocking drug). In addition to having little stamina, Val has also experienced persistent joint pain and a sense of her emotions being flat and depressed. Dr. Cooke (radiation oncologist) called her overall state "Letrazole toxicity".

Dr. Brandes suggested Val go off Letrazole for two weeks and assess her state at that time; two weeks usually is long enough, he said, to reduce the side-effects and give the patient a sense of whether or not the drug is the cause of those effects. At the two-week mark, Val will consult with Dr. Brandes and determine how to proceed.

It seems, then, that the past year of surgery, chemo and radiation has done what it should: Removed the cancerous tumour and killed off obvious signs of cancer cells in Val's body. What her current condition means for the long term is, of course, not 100% clear. However, Dr. Brandes suggested she had a very good chance of not having a recurrence for a long while. Let's hope he's right.

So. We find ourselves in an odd emotional state. Obviously relieved and happy on the one hand, but peculiarly unsettled on the other. Over this past year, we have been pulled along by the urgency of medical appointments and treatments and results and doctor visits. This coming year, we will have to re-learn how to forge our own agenda and rhythm. Most peculiar, indeed.

To be noted is that Val's fatigue is a very real daily hindrance. Wanting to do things is simply not the same as being able to actually do them. We figure this will  be the reality through December.

We'll continue to keep you posted as this process continues to unfold. Thanks for being with us.

xo

Back from holidays

The 31st of August marks our first anniversary of legally married life and is just two months shy of our 21st year of being together. Given what the past  year has consisted of for us - and particularly for Val - these anniversary dates are especially noteworthy for me. (I will leave Val to speak for herself.)

I am not one to laud a relationship merely for its longevity; not always do long years together equate to a good and evolving love. I feel fortunate, then, to be celebrating not only many years with Val, but also our genuinely happy love for each other that has, indeed, evolved over the years into a warm and stimulating companionship that makes life good.

Our holiday time at the cottage was excellent, as it usually is and especially so when we have several weeks in a row to enjoy our spot on Lake Winnipeg with each other. One of the books I read included the line, "...perhaps he saw in us what he wanted for himself, a happy marriage and the time to enjoy it..." And that is what the cottage gives us: plenty of time with each other. Yes, there is a project around every corner, and meals to make and dishes to wash, but even the daily chores seem less onerous and more enjoyable with the expanded time that seems to exist at the lake.

Now it's back to work for me. I'm looking forward to a a few revamped courses this term, and to a technology & teaching conference in Denver in October. I hope you are looking forward to your fall as eagerly.

Val has several medical appointments this coming week. It's been a full year since her first visit with Dr. Brandes; she sees him this week. We will see what he has to say. Stay tuned.

xo

On holidays

We are off to the lake/cottage for an extended time. We'll connect thereafter. Who knows: Maybe Val will even write a blog post in amongst the beauty of the great out of doors. Stay tuned...

Here's hoping you're enjoying your own summer where you are. It's blazing hot here at the moment, and close and humid. Not my favourite weather, but I don't dare complain!

xo

From folks to Folk Fest (by Amanda)

My two weeks in Edmonton with my folks (Anne and Colin) were highly successful: We had fun together and enjoyed each others' company, while also being very productive in sorting out closets and offices and outbacks. The photo below tells the tale: a good number of black garbage bags were sent to the landfill (sorry about that), several more to the recycling depot, and a car load to Goodwill. That boombox on top of the pile was diverted to the electronic waste depot, thanks to a stern message to me from Val on seeing the phone via text.

I happened to be in Edmonton while Wimbledon was on; my mother is an uber keen fan, while my father watches with interest. I haven't followed the tournament for years, but I got into it after downloading the app onto my iPhone and onto my mum's iPad. I would come up from my lower-level bedroom for tea in the morning and find Anne already on her second cup of tea and watching the live matches in progress on her iPad. As the tournament went on, we migrated to the TV to watch the more serious semi-finals on the big screen. 

Anne watches Wimbledon on her iPad. 

Watching Wimbledon on the big screen. 

For Colin, his iPad and his desktop Mac play a big role in keeping him connected to the outside world, as it is getting harder and harder for him to get out into it himself. He is a keen photographer of family and friends, and takes seriously his role to share his snaps with all of us. Here he is consulting with Anne on how to make (the damned) printer do what he wants it to. In the end, he succeeded. Phew. 

Colin gets around pretty well with a walker, and is game to do his share about the house. He sets the table and moves the laundry from the washer to the dryer. On a good day, his (blasted) oxygen tube doesn't get all caught up in this and that, and he manages to move about freely. Other times, tangles catch  him up and expletives can be heard. Nothing much unusual about that in a Le Rougetel house, I must say. 

I had an enjoyable time going through an old suitcase of my grandfather's into which Anne had put, in carefully dated envelopes, piles and piles of family photos. I left loads for Charles (my brother) and Katy (my sister) go through, but I brought a bunch home for my own files. Below is a rather sweet one of Katy (left) and me; I must be about a year old, which makes Katy about three. 

I am off to the Winnipeg Folk Festival this coming Thursday, which leaves poor Val alone yet again. If only she could enjoy what she considers the wailing of folk music, then she could come along! Her energy comes and goes, though I think it's true to say that the mind-numbing brain fog is over. However, the ups and downs of the returning energy is hard on the mind: So much to do, so much willingness to do it, yet not always the necessary amount of energy to actually achieve it. All positive thoughts continue to be gratefully received... 

Brief update

An overnight trip to the lake saw us knee-deep in dandelions and swatting bat-sized mosquitoes. But neither of those natural wonders stopped us from enjoying the view and the change of scenery. Not even the occasional heavy downpour dampened our spirit, though it must be said that poor Val is still beaten down by radiation-fatigue fall out. Nonetheless, she whacked down a bunch of thistles and held the ladder while I climbed onto the roof to clean out the (very bunged up) eaves troughs. That's what we call a good time!

I head to Edmonton tomorrow (Monday) for two weeks with my parents. Here's hoping that Val and Holly will take good care of each other in my absence. 

A break in the clouds of fatigue?

Val said this evening that she is beginning to feel a bit more like herself; that cloud of radiation-induced fatigue is possibly beginning to lift. She is maybe starting to feel just tired, rather than bone-numbing, head-clouding, zonked out tired. Here's hoping! 

Maybe our visit to Riding Mountain National Park this past weekend helped move things along? For sure we had fun! 

Val, Yvonne, Bella and I had a lovely time (in a crummy little cabin, but we came to overlook the inadequacies after an evening cocktail) enjoying each other's company and the lovely scenery in this gorgeous national park. The pictures below tell the tale.

Amanda and Bella, Yvonne's dog - a lovely 4-legged
travel and hiking companion. She did 9km
with Yvonne and Amanda
on Saturday around Moon Lake.  

Val and Yvonne cooling off their feet in Moon Lake on Saturday afternoon.
Yvonne and I had just finished the 9km hike, while Val had come to meet
us there, having done short bits of two different trails. We were all
bushed after our exertions and spent the rest of the afternoon rehydrating, reading
and preparing (then eating) supper. 

Bella stuck close to us, always. 

Val holding forth on matters of flora and fauna: She knows a lot! 

Sunday morning on the Brule Trail - a lovely gentle amble. Really nice. 

Val on boardwalk by the marshy lake
halfway around the Brule Trail. 

On the marshy lake - really windy! 

Amanda hiking, with Bella. 

This is how it goes at our house sometimes...

It's a bit later on a Sunday evening than ideal to be sitting down to eat, but it's been a bit of a dreary, grey, drizzly Sunday. We both did a bit of this and that - some yoga (Val), some garden tidying up (me), a walk (both of us), some reading and a nap (me) - and somehow it's past 6:30pm before anyone is in the kitchen putting food together for a meal. 

Yesterday, I had bought some 4-cheese ravioli to have on hand for just such an occasion, so that's what I pulled together for supper: some rudimentary tomato sauce, the pasta, and some lovely local asparagus (picked on Friday, bought on Saturday, cooked on Sunday). Some nice white wine remaining from Saturday's supper. It was going to be ok. Not gourmet, but decent. 

But as we're eating, Val tells me that, actually, ravioli, is her least favourite type of pasta, and, anyway,  when we last had that delicious dish with pasta and asparagus it wasn't with ravioli, was it? 

We both wracked our brains for what the other type of pasta was, but couldn't come up with it. 

So, I do the logical thing. I go to my collection of Fine Cooking magazines on the living room bookshelf and I pull down the mag holder. And I pull out, on first try, the correct copy of the magazine from which I first cooked that original pasta dish. 

Turns out it called for tortellini. "That's it," I cry, "tortellini." 

I look over at Val and she has her hands in  her (very curly) hair and is shrieking: "That is not fair! I cannot even find my shoes, but you can find - immediately - the magazine you need to come up with the answer for the type of pasta in that dish. Give me strength!"

What can I say? There's a fine line between being organized and being compulsive, and I believe I am happily on the correct side of this line....

On a less amusing note, it seems our fridge has stopped its cooling function. I will have to call a repair person in the morning. Oh joy. Oh well. At least the freezer is still functioning...

Val is now 10 days out from her final radiation treatment; she is still experiencing heavy fatigue, and the skin burn remains itchy and uncomfortable. Frequent treatments of aloe direct from the plant, some cortisone cream and moisturizer are all helping, but she will be glad when she's through this experience. 

As you may have noticed, she has not written a blog post for a good while; she will return when she has the gas (physical and intellectual) to do so. In the mean time, she is following through on her commitment to teach a yoga class or two; this takes some of her energy, but it also gives her some energy in return. A fair trade, indeed. 

A few pics to wrap up the weekend

My brother Charles turned 50 this weekend and celebrate it in Edmonton
with my parents and a myriad of friends. Here he is with  his two sons, Sam and Max. 

And here is a two-generation photo of Le Rougetels: Colin and Anne with Sam and Max, taken
at Easter when they were visiting with Charles. Regrettably, no decent shots exist of my sister-in-law Lisa.
Her appearance in this blog will have to wait for another time. As you can see, Colin is back home and holding his own. Between full-time oxygen, walking aids and homecare help, he is getting along ok,
and Mum is carrying on with  her usual incredible fortitude. 

Val and I spent the long weekend at the lake, where it was lovely on Saturday and Sunday, as evidenced by these first two photos. Not yet hot, but warm enough to bike ride in shirt sleeves. Just enough wind to keep it interesting. 

We both had a few nice naps in the gazebo: gorgeous!

Overnight Sunday to Monday, the wind came up stronger and blew in ice from the North.
Quite a different lake to wake up to! 

The steps leading down to the shore are in perfect order and the no-slip coating I gave them
last summer has held up really well. The tinkling of the ice shards was lovely to hear. 

No interest in swimming in amongst those ice shards, that's for sure! 

Done but not yet finished

Val at CancerCare on Monday, eating the lunch
kindly provided by Jacki and Erika.  Jacki drove
Val for her several appointments that day. 

Val will be glad to finish her radiation treatments today, but the process isn't really over yet. 

As Dr. Cooke made clear in the appointment on Tuesday, the effects of the treatment will continue to build for about 10 days and only thereafter will Val likely begin the road to recuperation from the radiation. 

The fatigue has really walloped Val, who finds herself "at the wall' quite suddenly once her energy has been all used up. She is coping remarkably well with all this, but , truth be told, is getting fed up. And who can blame her: It's been almost exactly a full year since she found the lump that marked the recurrence of the cancer and it's been pretty non-stop medical intervention since then. 

We hope to make it back to the cottage for the coming long weekend; the weather even promises to be what is passing for hot in these parts these days. I will take Friday off to ensure the preparations required for the weekend don't stall us from actually getting out there to enjoy the sun, warmth and scenery! 

We are also looking forward to a weekend trip out to Riding Mountain National Park with Yvonne and Bella for the weekend of the 31st. Val and I had our first hiking experience together in this Park, way back in the fall of 1993, and we have always enjoyed the scenery and trails. One of our fondest memories is of the weekend we spent there with my parents, Anne and Colin, and my aunt and uncle, Bridget and Arthur, who were visiting from Scotland in 1997 or maybe 1998. 

Regardless of all else, today marks a milestone in Val's cancer-recurrence treatment, even if it doesn't mark the end of it really.  So. Onwards. 

---------

Yesterday evening, we heard Germaine Greer speak as the final presenter in the new Canadian Museum for Human Rights' lecture series 'Fragile Freedoms'. She was a firecracker of straight-up talk on women's rights, specifically our right to "bodily integrity and autonomy", which, she says, we have yet to actually achieve. From her 53-minute lecture, I would say she is quite right. I loved her sharp humour and take-no-prisoners thinking. You can hear her yourself, when CBC's IDEAS broadcasts her lecture on May 28. 

Ten down. Six to go

Today marked Val's 10th radiation treatment, leaving six still to go. It's a tough haul, as Val is finding the emotional toll harder with radiation than she did with chemo. The daily trips to CancerCare are wearing. However, as my wise friend and colleague Teresa said, "If the fatigue and depressed emotions are the only side effects of radiation, it will be all good!" She's right. And here's hoping.

Chester is settling well into his new farm home/life. We've had positive reports from Gracie and also from Debbie, her grand-mother, who tells us that Chester is getting along very well with Sophie, the younger female cat who was already in the house. No news yet about whether they have gone outside, but why would they want to with the lousy weather we've been having here? Many thanks to each of you who has sent a message or shared a story of a beloved pet you have had to send to a new home. Each tale of happy endings helps us immensely in managing our missing of Chester.

Lake Winnipeg: still frozen, May 4, 2014

This is what it looked like at the cottage this past Sunday (left), when Yvonne and I took a whirlwind trip up there to check things out. All was in perfect order: no unwanted 4-legged guests in evidence, no burst pipes or anything. Phew and thank goodness!

Clifftop Cottage: ready for the season

I have put in a little bit of time on the city garden: My front perennial bed got some much-needed fertilizer and new soil around the plants. A few brave things are already poking their nose above ground, and I am hopeful they will spring into hyper growth with the double-digit temperatures promised for this weekend.

As has been true since the beginning of this whole cancer-recurrence-saga, we have been well supported these past few weeks: We have been fed by Erika & Jacki, Randa and Susan; flowers have arrived from Randa and Barb & Dick; cards have come from Nancy, Laurie, and Deborah & Judy. Every gesture and action is deeply appreciated. Thank you.

I am heading towards the final class in my night course; I do my last presentation on Tuesday the 13th at which time I will have completed all my course work towards my certificate in adult ed. I then will have only a final portfolio to prepare and submit. That will feel good. But I don't want to run out of brain work, so I have picked up a small writing project from a past client. It is always a good feeling when an email comes in asking for my skills - and it keeps my hand in with 'industry work', which is a very good thing for an instructor in an institution of applied learning. The deadline is end of May, so I will be long done by the time my holidays begin around June 19th. Yippee yahoo.

Count the days with us til the end of Val's treatments, which should land on May 15th...just in time for the May long weekend. Yippe yahoo to that!

Three treatments down. One cat gone

Val has completed three radiation treatments, and the most she can find to say about the experience so far is that it's "weird": machines clunk, three beams radiate each for one minute, the staff are friendly and forthcoming with info about what they're doing...Thirteen more sessions to go.

On Friday, Chester was taken by Gracie to live at her grandparents' farm south of Winnipeg. By all accounts, he is settling in well. Gracie sent along a couple of video reports over the weekend: Chester was loved by all the cousins and he was beginning to show curiosity about heading downstairs from his 'safe' room and investigating outside. We are sad to have let him go, but his preference for outdoor living is much better suited to a farm setting than our urban home, especially as the summer approaches. As Susan R told me, it's like sending your kid off to university or college: You miss them immensely, but know it's necessary for them to leave home. That  helps me understand my mixed-up feelings of relief and sadness.

It's a rainy Monday morning, and I'm glad I cleaned up my front flower beds a bit on Sunday with a light raking that got rid of all the fall detritus lying like an abandoned building site (road grit and grime all over everything) on top of my perennials. A few brave things had the tiny tips of their noses already poking up through the ground. Here's hoping spring actually gets here one of these days!

This and that

Holly, as ever unimpressed by her humans and their exploits. 

Val had the first of the prescribed 16 sessions of radiation today. Not much to say about it yet. Appointments number 2 and 3 tomorrow and Friday afternoon, then next week and so on until they're all done.

Erika made us a delicious pizza and salad for dinner and delivered it hot (the pizza not the salad) to our table. Yum!

Val's hair is growing back with a distinct wave: 'chemo curls' they call it. Same gorgeous red colour (see pic).

Snow is disappearing with the warming temperatures.

My main courses are now done; just three more to complete by mid-June.

My presentation on 'making biscuits' went very well in Tuesday evening's adult ed class.

Thanks to all of you who connect via Facebook or send emails. All modes of communication are greatly appreciated. Stay in touch. It's always nice to hear from you.

Love to all...

Of time and movement

We would be nothing without time

Yet time is a heavy burden when waiting for the unknown.

Life's lesson: To make good use of time 

Regardless of its weight on our mind and heart

To paraphrase the late Ronald Dworkin (The Guardian's obit here), life's value is more adverbial than adjectival. That is, it is in the doing and the moving that we generate meaning and effect in our life and for our life. In the end, our life may have been good, bad or something else, but if we do not do our living with intention while we can, the result will be of less consequence and value - to ourselves and to others, also.

It's a good perspective, I think, because without the ambition to keep moving, to keep doing life (which seems different to me than merely living), I would grind to a stand still and just wait. And that would get me nowhere. (Better to scrub the toilet while waiting; at least I'd have a clean toilet out of the waiting!)

So. I keep moving even as my eye is trained on April 23rd, the day of Val's first radiation treatment.

I am haunted - no, that may be overstating it. I am unsettled - that's maybe more accurate. I am unsettled that Val will soon be among the many who walk voluntarily into the radiation treatment room. CancerCare Manitoba provides very good care, but the place is weird in how normal having cancer seems, and how normal it is for so many people to be treated there, treated by people whose work it is to administer chemotherapy and radiation therapy.

Radiation (good explanation in second paragraph here). For some reason I find this next step in Val's treatment more troubling than the four rounds of chemo were. And I can't really figure out why. She suffered very real physical side effects - fatigue, hair loss and changes in appetite - and she will suffer very real physical side effects from the radiation - skin burns, fatigue, and who knows what else, including possible lymphedema in her left (dominant) arm and hand.

Maybe my real fear is that she will go through this horrid-sounding treatment for no real long-term benefit, and she'll be left with lyphedema as a life-long reminder of the pain but no gain. Try as I might, I cannot get this thought out of my mind. Yet, I must - and will - keep moving towards and into this next round of treatment. If I don't, I will be stuck in the never-never land of wanting what is not: Our life without cancer in it.

Life is about making choices, and sometimes those choices don't make easy sense, even when based on statistical evidence and scientific protocols.

So. I keep moving and paying attention to my own stuff (displacement behaviour?), including my final adult ed course. On Tuesday evening, I'll be presenting what I learned about my own learning process while teaching myself how to make biscuits last weekend. Watch the 30-second video (Amanda Makes Biscuits) that I made to include in my presentation.

Here's to waiting. And to keeping on moving...

Hanging in

As we head into the Easter long weekend, we are hanging in -- just.

What with chemo brain still very  much in evidence (yesterday, Val put the left-over salmon from supper into the coffee drawer rather than the fridge!) and radiation anxiety building for session # 1 this coming Wednesday, life's parameters are close and sharp.

• I am crawling my way to the end of term. I will continue to teach in May and June, but only three shorter courses, so I will have time to complete the final requirement in my adult ed certificate program. 
• Val is putting her energies into teaching a weekly yoga class and starting up a new teacher training program at Yoga North. She really enjoys being back with students in that setting. 
• The cats are enjoying more outside time. 

Life goes on. We'll keep you posted as we come to grips with Val's 16 sessions of radiation, beginning on April 23.

Next step

Val had the meeting with both docs and the patient advocate yesterday. It was a good meeting, but the news is hard: Radiation is unavoidable to reduce risk of local recurrence. We were hoping this would not be the outcome, but it is. Val will explain in greater detail once she has wrapped her head around it.

Quick update

Val has made contact w/ the patient rep at CancerCare. A meeting will be arranged with both docs...at least that is the plan. We'll keep you posted as things progress. Just wanted to share this news of the steps made to date.

I had an excellent visit with Anne and Colin in Edmonton, where the weather was cool but the snowbanks were far less significant than they are here in Winnipeg. It continues to be more winter than spring. Sigh. Colin is settling in well at home, and Anne is running things like clockwork. Homecare is good morning and evening. Friends continue to help out. So far, so good.

Over and out for the moment.

A Blog Post by Val: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

If I have not clearly indicated the difficulties and uncertainties surrounding cancer treatment decisions in past posts, then let me make them as clear as possible now. If I have not made it clear in past posts that uncertainty is feared and hated by humans and “dogs” our existence, then let me be clear about that now. Unfortunately, the broader existential dilemma of uncertainty, disease and dying facing us all is largely hidden to us until we encounter something like a cancer treatment decision that unmasks the dilemma.

In my previous posts, I have discussed, at least to some extent, how far we have come in cancer treatment, but I’ve tried to do this without losing sight of how far we still have to go. And we have a long way to go. As my oncologist said last week, “We don’t have a crystal ball.”  As I wrote in my post last week, a team of cancer professionals struggled to stage my tumor, and there was dissention in the ranks.

Yesterday, I saw the “dissenter”, Dr. Cooke, my radiation oncologist. After several months, two CT scans of my chest and a “conference” of oncologists, radiation is recommended. But, here is the thing: Dr. Cooke strove to make it very clear to me that I will only have “modest gains” from the radiation. When I asked if he would rank those gains on a scale of 1 to 10, he said 3. He also repeated to me three times, that my most serious risk was that of distant occurrence (lungs, liver, bones) and he stated unequivocally, “Radiation will NOT reduce that risk.” Dr. Cooke is a strong believer in “informed consent”.

In a review of radiation side effects, we discussed lymphedema. I have a 7-10% chance of it occurring. How do I compare these two sets of probabilities: my risk of lymphedema with my chance of modest gains with radiation? How does this help me make a rational, realistic decision, i.e., to give informed consent? Dr. Cooke freely admits that statistics are fine but they don’t indicate to WHOM they will apply. If, the “modest gains” were, say 7 in 10, well, that might be a slightly different story.

There are two difficult issues for me. One is the risk of lymphedema, a risk I will come back to later. The other issue is the recommendation to discontinue Herceptin after one year. Herceptin is the treatment that has the best chance to reduce my chances of a distant occurrence. So, I’m offered (local) radiation, which will not decrease this risk, and I will be taken off Herceptin, the drug designed to decrease this risk. These recommendations are based on the staging of my tumor which, to be fair to all the docs, has been difficult. Clearly Cooke does not agree with how my tumor has been staged. Dr. Cooke says I should take this issue up with Dr. Brandes. Oh, so I am to go back and forth between these two medical professionals and, in the end, figure it out myself?

Lymphedema is not particularly pleasant and I have seen many cases of it in people who have attended my yoga classes for cancer patients over the years. It is often mild but I have seen many more extreme cases. It isn’t curable and Cooke admitted that they don’t know very much about it. He mentioned what he called a “fairly reasonable study” on the effects of exercise for lymphedema and said that the study concluded that exercise had no effect one way or the other. He said that he did not think exercise had any positive or negative effects. He called another study that examined the effects of flying on lymphedema “crap”. He said that only one study on this issue has ever been conducted, it was a lousy study and, yet, lymphedema patients are cautioned about flying because of the increased risks supposedly identified in it. Hmmm… I’ll say one thing about Dr. Cooke, he is very straightforward and honest.

Did I mention that I’m left handed and that my tumor was on the left side? That is where the lymphedema would be. Are there any yoga teachers reading this who have anything to offer about practice and lymphedema?

So here I am: Having to give “informed consent” on a crucial health issue when those asking me to make the “informed consent” admit to not really knowing or having “crystal balls”. On the one hand, I think it is terribly unfair, and on the other hand, I think it is the only way the decision can be made. But, in my experience, the doctors could be more helpful. For example, I don’t understand why they, Brandes and Cooke, can’t meet with me together. Perhaps they can. Perhaps I can request such a meeting. Perhaps it is time to call on a CancerCare Patient Advocate.

In the meantime, I’m between a rock and a hard place, squarely facing the uncertainty of the results of my decisions and their impact on the quality and length of my life.