February is almost behind us and Gabriel is beginning to actively seek out the lair of the Easter Bunny.  At Fortino’s  yesterday he spied a chocolate Spider Man just slightly larger than his head.  He’s pretty much convinced that the bunny will bring that hopping to our house.

What we’re hoping for, in terms of early Easter, is a better run of health for Katie.  Yesterday marked the halfway point in her chemo treatment.  The regimen of drugs for the second course of treatment is different and is, purportedly, less likely to induce nausea.  That will only be a good thing as Katie’s experience during the  past two months has unfortunately revolved around an ever descending cycle of sickness.  Although she is most certainly feisty she’s also just a little sprite right now and the experience she’s had would have taken down a much stouter soul.

Some of you will know that we spent a fun-filled 7-hours in E.R. the day before Family Day.  Kate’s temperature had spiked at 38.5 and with an inefficient immune system that can be a sign of infection.  Oddly, the moment we entered E.R. the temp fell to normal range however they did an extensive battery of blood work, throat and nose swabs, urinalysis, and chest x-ray to make sure there weren’t nasties hiding somewhere waiting to strike.

No infection.  Good thing.

No flu.  Another good thing.

Precautionary prescription of Tamiflu.  Not a good thing.  This drug managed to refresh Katie’s nausea just as it was beginning to subside so we (yes, after medical consultation) binned the remainder of the treatment and she began to recover.  Finally, Sunday, she started to feel closer to normal.  Just in time for our triumphant return to Credit Valley Hospital for more chemo.

Timing, as Billy Crystal proved at the Academy Awards the other night, is everything.

Her regular oncologist and nurse are on vacation so the new consulting physician, upon hearing of her experience decided to issue very firm Doctor’s orders, apparently the only thing that Katie really responds to;-) – her chemo dosage would be reduced by 15%.  He made it very clear that this would have no impact whatsoever on the efficacy of the treatment but that it might well produce a better result on the nausea front.

While it is too soon to tell, Katie is hopeful that this will be the case.

That about brings you up to speed.  Friends and family continue to provide stupendous support to us.  Andy and Lisa delivered, according to Katie, “the world’s best chicken soup”.  I can’t attest to the evaluation as I didn’t even get within sniffing distance of it!  Cindy and Lloyd also have been preparing meals for us and Cindy has even enlisted her sister Stacey to assist.  We also were the very grateful recipients of some wonderful meals courtesy of Frau McCaffery (who ensured a permanent spot in the hearts of our boys with a couple of awesomely tasty chocolate cupcakes).  Then we also received very thoughtful gifts and thoughts from Kate’s Aunt Patty and….well, the list just goes on and on.  We also know that the good vibes, emails, calls and cards you’ve been sending are really helpful and we are continuously grateful to you all.

I’ll try not to leave it so long next time before advising you of what’s happening but I would also direct you to www.facingcancer/ridingshotgun where I try to write at least a weekly blog recording some of the tales of this trek.

In the meantime, keep your eyes peeled for that Bunny.  Gabe is determined to find out where it lives and learn from Grandpa how to set an effective, albeit humane, snare!

The boys and I are spending Family Day together while Kate takes refuge at her parents’ home.  It has been quite trying for her since her last chemo session (the 3rd of last Monday.  We, obviously naively, thought that the recovery from each session would become easier to handle.  The reality is that Katie has been laid progressively lower after each session.

Last time, it was thought that additional hydration would help so she spent an additional two days dragging an i.v. pump and pole around the house while saline dripped slowly into her system.  If you’re ever considering it – an i.v. pump is not an attractive element to add to your home decor!

So that didn’t work and in the midst of all of this the remainder of the family came down with some sort of mutant strain of Ebola.  Gabriel hacked and sniffed for the entire week.  Samuel, who is only two, developed the cough of someone who has smoked for four decades and sounded a lot like Mercedes McCambridge in ‘The Exorcist”.

Guess you know where this is going.  A vulnerable immune system can only stand so much and while the Neulasta treatments appear to be giving Kate’s white cells a real boost (her count was astronomically positive at last bloods) the virus wormed its way in.  Yesterday, we began the day with a very pleasant and welcome journey to E.R. at OTH where the local muppets weren’t really much help but even weirder was that Katie’s temperature, which had been hovering around 38.4 rang it at a very normal 37.3.

We came home.

The shivers and fatigue and general yick and sore throat and cough re-emerged and her temp was back up to 38.5.

Back into the car and off to CVH.

Six and one-half hours later I dropped Kate off with her angel of a mom and came home to relieve my father-in-law of the boys.

The good news?  Her temp was normal.  The results of tests on what appeared to be a couple of pints of blood were all good – although the battle had depleted the white cells.  Good work though ladies!  You fought off infection.  And, you fought off flu.  And, while Kate still feels baffed out today, the kind ministrations of her mom will undoubtedly get her back on her feet.

In the meantime, the boys and I (with Grandpa’s very real help) are managing to make it through the days and nights as a family.  The lads miss their Mommy no doubt and would vastly prefer that she be with us but as Gabe says, “Get better Mommy and make the chemo sharks fight hard so you can come home.”

On Family Day then just this – my profound thanks to my own little family and to Roger and Wendy, Andrew and Judy, Bob and Nicola, Alex and Louis.  Also my personal thanks to my gorgeous niece Elaine for her support and for being such a great caregiver for my Mom.  And, many props to our extended family Cindy and Lloyd, Lisa and Andy, Wayne and Tammy, Rebecca and Charlene, and every single one of the amazing people at Pigeon* who have individually and collectively proven that you can in fact form a family within the workplace.

To all of you we say thank you.  Our hope is that on Family Day one year hence we’ll be celebrating as a whole and bringing the boys’ Mommy into our warm embrace.

Before

A vigorous debate was undertaken prior to writing this post.   The debate happened completely within the enclosed walls of my cranium.  Eventually, passion overcame prudence so you may have to indulge me a little bit with temporary suspension of disbelief.

Imagine if you will the two most pacific people on earth.  Two people seldom moved to anger.  Two people in perfect harmony with the universe and completely understanding of their inner selves and motivations.  No.  Not my wife and I.  We could never claim that lofty position.  Think instead in terms of Gandhi and Mother Teresa.

Activate your suspension of disbelief now please.

In a parallel universe Gandhi and Mother Teresa are married.  You can imagine what a typical day might involve.  Gandhi out quelling the masses with his message of peace. Coming home for tea, kicking off his sandals and asking Teresa about her day bringing succour to the heaving boil of suffering humanity.  They sit down to a humble modest meal and share the great peace of two souls functioning in complete synchronicity with their worlds.

Their lives unfold in the same manner day upon day until Mother Teresa learns that cancer has come calling.  Great shock and disbelief ensues. Even with her profound faith and belief the worm crawls into her life and spreads the anxiety, angst and anger. Everyone though comments that if there is any couple in the world who can survive, maybe even flourish in the face of this challenge it is they.  For the first little while, very little while, it appears that common opinion is on target.

Then.

One day, Gandhi comes home.  He’s forgotten the rice and he’s failed to remove his sandals immediately upon crossing the threshold.  Teresa descends upon him like the screaming Valkyries.  Befuddled and bewildered Gandhi at first tries to defuse the situation with a little joke.  He quickly realizes the error of his ways as Teresa mounts a new attack revolving around his complete insensitivity to the gravity of ‘her’ situation.

Now, suspend your suspension of disbelief and rejoin me in the real world.

If you’re a caregiver some of what I wrote above, for all of it’s poor man’s Swiftian satire, may resonate.

My personal physician informed me shortly after Kate’s diagnosis that the divorce rate among couples with breast cancer in the family was abnormally high.  I frankly couldn’t believe her.  Surely, when the trials and tribulations of life come along we gather together and jointly retreat to the all-healing power of love.  How could one possibly even find it possible to contemplate even a few moments apart, never mind, separation, never mind, divorce from the person around whom one’s total being revolved?  It just sounded crazy to me.

Then.

It became crystal clear how that scenario could eventuate.  This disease plays havoc with everything from your soul to your appetite.  And, until you learn that lesson, until you recognize that anger – balls out, vituperative anger – is part of the package you’re in trouble.

So what to do?

Well, acknowledge the reality first of all.  Then immediately find a way in which to manage it.  Whether through some of the excellent lessons provided by the folks who created the Healing Journey (www.healingjourney.ca) or getting support from the beautiful people at Wellspring (www.wellspring.ca)  or indeed getting your own personal shrink, you owe it to yourself to do something.

For a time, if I had one more person hand me the “well, Don, remember, it is very important that you have time for yourself. Your health and well being are critical” I was tempted to hand them back a “gee, that’s great advice…now, how about you look after my two-year old and four-year old; how about you do the shopping; how about you make the interminable number of journeys to various hospitals, clinics, doctors’ offices, pharmacies…actually, how about you just plain and simple pound sand!”

We all know it is well meaning and frankly, we have been blessed to have wonderful support particularly from Kate’s parents and her workmates.  But ultimately, at 3:00 a.m. you are left alone with your thoughts and what the Healing Journey recommends is practical methods to go somewhere peaceful with yourself.  Now, there will still be the blowups and all I can recommend to people new to this is – brace yourself caregivers and suck it up.  As you will be told, I promise, “YOU DON’T HAVE CANCER.  YOU CAN’T UNDERSTAND”.  She’s right.  So ask her to teach you.

Another blogger on this site gave me some great advice too.  We guys like to think we can fix anything and everything.  We can’t and we shouldn’t.  We can take the punches though. We can find good places to go (between our ears) and we are all blessed to have such capacity to love in our lives.  And, finally, realize that the vows you made were more than words.  They represented a genuine commitment and if that means we take a few more shots to the head than we’d ideally like – so what.

Good luck y’all.

e-mail sent December 5, 2012

Greetings friends:

I just noticed the rather unfortunate acronym of our little group.  It may require a rethink!

Gabriel has been very successful this year with his swimming lessons.  What’s that got to do with anything?

One of the most critical lessons he’s learned is how to hold his breath underwater.  When I was trying to figure out what the month of November was like for us this came to mind.  When I was taught swimming a million years ago I can remember holding my breath until it seemed as though I would pass out.  Sort of a self-defeating exercise in retrospect but the body always rescues itself with a huge inhalation and if you’ve learned your lesson you do that only when your face is removed from the water.

That large inhalation took place last Thursday when our very capable doctor, Michael Reedijk, informed me that Katie’s surgery had gone well, according to plan and that her lymph system (so far as they could tell at that point) was not involved.  Since that time we’ve had hope rekindled and as I mentioned in the last note we’ve been overwhelmed with the support you’ve provided.  Most notably I need to give special props and eternal thanks to Nana and Bapa (Roger and Wendy for the grownups among us).  Without their intervention and tireless support Katie and I would have been lost.  They are our special angels and will probably never completely  comprehend how much they have meant to us.  I would also be remiss to not pay special thanks to Katie’s awesome colleagues and friends at Pigeon Branding and Design.  You people have changed an old cynic’s (that’d be me) perspective on the corporate world.  From the genuine caring and commitment of the President, John Nishida, to the daily encouragement of Katie’s team we could not have expected such incredible understanding.

Now, to give credit where it is most deserving – my beautiful wife ROCKS THE WORLD!

Katie has been absolutely resolute and remarkable in her effort to get back on her feet and ensure that her recovery moves ahead with alacrity.  She is a powerhouse packed into a tiny little body.  We never really come to know each other until genuine adversity hits and her ability to embrace her children and this old man with caring and encouragement is inspiring.  The nickname with which John Nishida anointed her, Feisty, is entirely on target.

Our followup consult with Dr. Reedijk is on December 15.  We will learn more about next steps and we promise to share with you.  Suffice  to say at this point – we know the journey is not over but we have collectively regained our breath and are prepared in spirit to embark on the next portion of our trip.

Thanks again for accompanying us so far and helping us move ahead with hope and in the bright light of day.

e-mail sent December 8, 2012

1. I have binned the ‘Korps’ nomenclature ’cause I just couldn’t bear the idea of sporting the KKK acronym.  So, we’re now the KKC.

2. Say goodbye to Jackson Pratt!  Not familiar with Jackson Pratt?  Count yourself lucky.  JP is a wound drainage system which provides for the elimination of fluid build up through a process of milking.  Yeah, it is just as much fun as it sounds.  Anyway, Katie said so long farewell to JP this morning when a GREAT nurse from St. Elizabeth Nursing withdrew the system.  AND…she, the nurse, did it with such care and empathy that Katie sailed through what can be a very unpleasant experience.  In fact, moments before her surgery one week ago, the last question she asked of Dr. Reedijk was “how much will the tube removal hurt.”  When he recovered from his surprise at the timing of this question, he indicated that while he had never experienced the sensation he had learned it could be uncomfortable.  Then I, like I advise against, went on YouTube yesterday to view JP removal procedures.  I DO NOT recommend this course of action!

3. The nurse who helped Katie today was a true star who has experienced much of the same trauma as Katie.  It’s a wonder what shared experience and genuine empathy will do.  A good lesson for all of us there.  Back in my Camp Mazinaw days we were encouraged to walk a mile in someone’s moccasins before judging them.  While it was tough to find someone to give up their footwear for an entire mile the lesson is apt.  Just take a little time to consider what impact we have on others and vice versa.

4. If you’re ever interested there is an entire vocabulary to learn through this experience.  While I am a writer and always interested in increasing my word power, I recommend alternatives such as reading and research rather than living through this.

5. Finally, thanks again to our team of supporters.  Your thoughts and angelic influences helped my darling again today.

As noted in my first post, I intend to publish a few postings which take you back to the beginning of our trek.  Expect a few of these and then I will begin with new materials as they come to me and seem relevant.

e-mail sent November 21, 2011

Subject: Katie’s Karma Korps: An invitation to participate in our most
important journey

Hi friends and family (although not mutually exclusive).
As most of you know, Katie was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks ago and since that time we have embarked on a journey of learning that we would both hope you never have to take.
However, if our taking this trip enables and empowers any of you we can find some glimmer of hope.
My purpose in sending this note is simple:  We, Katie and I, are believers in Karma and in the spiritual power of good will.  By no means are we conventionally religious and this episode in our lives is not about to become akin to a conversion on the road to Damascus.  (If you don’t understand the literary reference consult my learned friend Len Rosen who will expound upon it in great detail.)  So, many of you have already sent us powerful thoughts and wishes.  Your support and that of many others will only become more important over the next few weeks and perhaps months.
We will keep you informed of what is going on simply because we have learned in the very recent past that peering into the gaping maw of ignorance is just downright frightful.  We choose hope.  We choose light.  We choose you to help illuminate our path.
Next steps are these:
Katie has more tests on November 23 then on November 30 she will undergo mastectomy surgery.
We will both acknowledge that the care, respect and treatment we’ve received from some great people at Princess Margaret Hospital is encouraging. In particular I must thank my newest best friend, Gill Howard, for greasing the skids for us at PMH.  We will be forever grateful Gill.
In summary, we appreciate your support and hope that you will – nah, we KNOW – you will keep it coming in the gobs we require.
Blessings.

e-mail sent November 22, 2011

Subject: Katie’s Karma Korps, 1st edition, Vol. 2: Keep your face always

toward the sunshine – and shadows will fall behind you.

Thank you so very much for your responses to our last note.  Whatever you’re doing, please keep doing it.  We believe it is working and if you can send a special concentration of energy around 11:30 a.m. tomorrow our receptors will be at their most active.

We don’t have any updates apart from this thank you.

I also will share a portion of a poem that was  seminal in my development.  From 1967 ’til the early ’70s I attended Camp Mazinaw (now sadly gone).  It was a boys’ canoe tripping camp near Bon Echo.  Bon Echo is a 365′ high cliff which features both very early aboriginal stone drawings and a portion of the following Whitman poem carved into its base.  In the company of my fellows at Mazinaw I learned very many good lessons including my abiding belief in what I now understand as karma but which at the time we referred to as a spirit named Wakonda.  I know that Wakonda is in reality all of you collectively and individually.  Thanks so much for being with us and please do, like us, keep your face always toward the sunshine.

From Leaves of Grass:

“And I know I am solid and sound;
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow;
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.

“I know I am deathless;
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by the carpenter’s compass;
I know I shall not pass like a child’s carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.

“I know I am august;
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood;
I see that the elementary laws never apologize;
(I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.)

“I exist as I am – that is enough;
If no other in the world be aware, I sit content;
And if each and all be aware, I sit content.

“One world is aware, and by far the largest to me, and that is myself;
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.

“My foothold is tenon’d and mortis’d in granite;
I laugh at what you call dissolution;
And I know the amplitude of time.”

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

On October 28, 2011 I received a phone call from my wife’s GP advising that she had breast cancer.  The ensuing months have brought bewilderment, fear and anger.  I agreed with the very fine people at Facing Cancer.ca to embark on this blog with a couple of objectives.  The first is selfishly cathartic.  I am a storyteller.  I manage my emotion with the written word and writing my own blog has been helpful to me.  The second is hopeful.

For all of the kind words offered, caregivers have a tough row to hoe.  Riding Shotgun on the cancer carriage, while certainly preferable to sitting in the driver’s seat, is no easy feat for any sentient being.  Perhaps sharing my experiences will help someone else.

Already, other bloggers on facingcancer.ca have hauled me back to the surface a couple of times.  Maybe I can pay that forward.

Rather than recreate everything from the get go, I’m going to post a few pieces that already appeared either on my personal blog (ghinc.blogspot.com) or were sent as email to my wife’s extended support team, a.k.a., Katie’s Karma Corps.

Then, I shall commence to contribute new material as I think it relevant and helpful.