Week #3 Roundup

We ate the eggs. Steph, thanks for your sage input into the matter.

I apologize for the belated weekly roundup, but the weekend was quite hectic. I was also waiting a couple of days to see if we would receive more donations to pump up our numbers, but alas, no such luck. To date, the team has raised $4566.00, which means we are 63% of our way toward our goal of $7500. Stacey is 63% done while Matt is at 0% (:S). If you have yet to donate and would like to, please support one of them.

Because of work/school/volunteering, I don't really get to visit dad that much during the week. If I have time, I go home to play with neglected Wallace and then mom doesn't have to rush home to take him out. Speaking of Wallace, he is another member of the family who has suffered because of cancer.

Wallace is a very intelligent dog. He is more intelligent than a lot of humans, which is also why I prefer his company to a lot of humans (not any of you, gentle readers). Moreover, Wallace used to spend all of his days with dad, and I suspect dad used to talk to him throughout the day, sneak him scraps of his food, play, and occasionally take him out. To go from all of that to nothing? Well, Wallace knows something is wrong, and I think he is acting out. Every time we take Wallace out for a walk, he barks at EVERY PERSON that he sees. It is extremely embarrassing, and it is not a behaviour that he used to perform. Finally after a day of a lot of attention, he stopped the barking, only to resume after an afternoon spent without him at the hospice. Any ideas as to how to stop this? He still goes on his Monday-Friday group walks, so exercise isn't an issue.

Sometimes we bring Wallace to the hospice, and he lies down next to dad until he (Wallace, not dad) gets restless. Dad once said that Wallace was "absolutely the apple of his eye," and still talks to him in the hospice when Wallace starts to whine. When we don't bring him to visit, Daddy often asks for him. Naturally, Wallace is a comforting presence for dad, and rightly so: pets should be involved in any sort of process be it healing or grieving. So you can imagine my COMPLETE HORROR at the following exchange that occurred on Friday evening:

*Wallace, Dana, and Mom walk down the hospice hallways when a kid bursts out of the kitchen and darts across the corridor into another room, startling Wallace*

Wallace: BARK (writer's note: a SINGULAR bark)

*Wallace, Dana, and Mom continue walking along their merry way, passing the kitchen currently housing a short, fat, greasy-looking man eating a slice of pizza*

Short, fat, greasy-looking man: You tell your dog to shut the f--- up...or I will.

WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT? HE SAID WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT TO ME? IN A HOSPICE?????

At first I thought it was a joke - he couldn't possibly be serious. But mom edged me on, and the three of us scurried into dad's room. We did the only thing we could do: tell on him to the nurses. His wife is in the room next door to dad, and he stays with her all the time. However, the hospice has showers - there is no excuse for greasiness. Apparently his wife is a sweet woman, but the nurses say that the man is rude, obnoxious, offensive, and ignorant. His brother apologized to us, acknowledging the fact that his brother "is a dick," but it's a shame that the short, fat, greasy-looking man couldn't do it himself. You never hear of mean people with cancer. Maybe it's because they're suffering alone. In any case, I wouldn't wish cancer on anyone, not even short, fat, greasy-looking man. No one deserves it.

Dad is down to 135 lbs. He has trouble swallowing and isn't really eating anything except a couple of spoonfuls of broth every few days. He is very weak, cannot move himself at all, and complains of muscle soreness from lying in bed all day. However, he is drinking a lot, which caused our family doctor to suggest that he's fighting it. This means that there is still a long road left ahead of us. We think he might be waiting for Christmas, which is all well and good, but none of us want to see him become more skeleton-like and have a closed-casket funeral. I want to bring around some decorations to his room, seeing as how we won't be having a Christmas at home, but at the same time, I don't want to encourage him. Mom wants me to talk to him and give him my permission to go, but I don't think I can do that. There are parts of me and Stace that are still holding out for a medical miracle.

Stace is swamped with school this week, so you may not hear from her in a while. As for me, I'm stressed out from these grad school applications. There isn't enough sleep in the day.

In retrospect, spinning at 6:45am at a downtown studio when you are coming from Etobicoke was not one of my finer ideas. It isn't even 8:30 and I am exhausted and in need of another coffee.

Looks like I am cancelling tomorrow's class...

Get 'er done

Today I cleaned for the first time since mid-October. Gross, I know, but there was always something getting in its way. Namely, sleeping, eating, work, school, visiting daddy, Wallace, the Internet...The point is, once I started, it felt good to get back into some semblance of a normal routine. Take Thursday mornings: every Thursday morning was egg day for me and Stace, the one day of the week where we'd have a nice complete breakfast and didn't have to rush off somewhere. Our last egg day was weeks ago. Now we've got five expired eggs sitting in the fridge. Actually, the expiry date is November 20th - do you suppose they are still safe to eat?

I've also finally started doing background research for my grad school applications, and I'm giving myself a deadline of THIS WEEKEND to write my personal statement of experience. I am somehow supposed to introduce myself, why I want to go to [insert school here], what I would bring to [insert school here], and what I want to research in under 500 words. If you've been reading all my blogs, you'll note that I generally don't convey much in 500 words. Still, I'm excited. Daddy always knew that I would eventually see the errors of my ways and end up jobless...er....in English. Mom says that our communication skills all come from dad. This makes sense, as they sure didn't come from her (ha ha ha!)!

I guess it took me a little longer than Stace to realize that life goes on, even when you don't want it to. I can't press pause on all of my days, and so I've got to keep going. Mom, Stace, and dad are all doing it - I should try, too. I have also realized that I have too little time to waste on things that don't matter to me. I may not have much of a future with English, but at least I'll be studying something intellectually stimulating. Plus, I'll know bigger words than most people. Scrabble champion, here I come!

And as for right now? Well, it's my bedtime. I have an alarm clock reading 5:30am and a 6:45am date with a spin class. Goodnight, world.

Week #2 Roundup

Over the past week, our team has raised $1725.00, bringing our fundraising total up to $4191.00.  We have achieved 56% of our fundraising minimum of $7500.00, and are still working hard to see that percentage grow!  This week has seen Dana surpass her fundraising minimum of $2500.00, with her fundraising total currently sitting at $2845.00.

As previously mentioned by Dana, although our team goal is $7500.00, each member must individually raise $2500.00 in order to ride.  Donations cannot be transferred between team members once they have been made, so it looks like we are going to surpass this minimum once Matt and myself reach our fundraising minimums.  That said, if you would like to make a donation, please take this in consideration and help all of us to ride together.

Thanks,

Stacey

Passion versus Reason

A topic of much discussion back in high school, as we were often forced to critically analyze the mindsets of Shakespeare's finest.  It's funny how even now, years later, I often find myself revisiting this idea by choice.  On this scale, I often consider myself to be tipped heavily towards the side of reason.  Is this a bad thing?  Who knows.  Does this mean that I'm not a caring person?  Certainly not.

The reason that I haven't been able to update this blog has nothing to do with a lack of interest - I have kept journals for the past seven years and am very enthusiastic about chronicling our journey.  However, I am also very enthusiastic about school and skating, and maintaining the life that I had been living before any of this had happened.  I know to some it seems like this is an avoidance strategy.  Keep yourself busy, keep your brain off of daddy and his brain.  People think that because I don't visit him everyday that I don't care.  Frankly, I don't care if people choose to perceive my behaviour that way.  I know that he is always on my mind, and I hope that even in his present state, that he knows this as well.  I know that taking time off from school, quitting skating, and rearranging my life are things that I would be willing to do if that was what he wanted.  That said, I know that he would want me to maintain some aspect of normalcy in my life, which is why I have not been acting any differently.

I remember the day that my mom told Dana and I the news.  It was October 23rd.  I had been out with a few of my friends in Mississauga when my mom called me at around 11PM to come home.  I didn't really think I was out "late" but she seemed adamant that I come home right away, and so I did.  I remember standing in our bedroom, "I have some news", and the words end of life care.  I had had a bad feeling about everything the whole week, so perhaps that played into my reaction, I don't know.  I just remember Dana crying, and me just....standing there, and trying to defend what would appear to be an indifferent reaction:

"It's not that I don't care.  I do.   I just don't see a point in being sad when nothing has changed since yesterday except that now we know.  He is still here.  Why should I be sad?  We can't change the situation.  All we can do is be there for him and hope he goes without suffering and in peace."

I stand by my statement.  I am sad that this has to happen to him.  I am sad that this has to happen to my family.  The thing is, wishing things were different and being depressed won't get anyone anywhere, and it can't change the way that things are.  I may only be 20 years old, and he may only be in his 50s, but loss is loss.  It is a concept that does not get any easier with age.

Thank you so much to the people who have reached out with kindness and helped my family through this difficult time.  You are brave and extraordinary people.  To those who have chosen to turn a blind eye, well, I reiterate, loss is loss.

So for now, I will continue on.  I am doing well in school and I will be competing in the first competition of the skating season next weekend.  It is too bad that my dad can't come watch like old times, but I will do my best to have a good skate for him.

I have not kicked into training gear just yet, but I hope to real soon!  I may be clocking in 14 hours of exercise a week as a varsity athlete and physical education student, but my education tells me not to underestimate the importance of specific training.  Bring on the biking!

Lots of love,

Stacey

Gains and Losses

It occurred to me the other day that perhaps this blog is too sad. Then I reminded myself that what I want to do here more than anything is provide a faithful and honest representation of what it's like to deal with cancer. I want people to know how much it hurts. I want people to understand what gets glossed over and truly be with me on this journey. Yes, it may be hard to read, but it's even harder to live through, and it's all the more reason why this ride is so important. So here it is. Is it heartbreaking? Sometimes, but it's also very real.

In life, you're going to lose things - it's inevitable. Last week, I lost an earring. This week, I lost one of my leather driving gloves (and I had barely worn them, too!). Toronto sports fans are VERY familiar with losing. Loss. It's not a new concept, but it's still difficult to stomach.

Losses are often tempered by gains. I learned this very well over the past couple of weeks. When I first found out about my dad, I immediately knew who to go to (shout out: I appreciate you guys!). This core group of friends called me or texted me incessantly. They showed up at my door bearing baked goods. Essentially, they wouldn't leave me alone. In serious, emotional situations, my natural inclination is to keep things to myself and try to deal with it, but that tactic wasn't going to work here. My friends held me while I cried, and they cried with me. Most importantly, they didn't treat me any differently. Sure, they checked up on me more often than normal, but we didn't always have to talk about cancer. Nothing had changed in our relationships - they just became stronger.

In contrast, I've had people that I would consider good friends leave my e-mails unacknowledged, and this is what hurts. It's bad enough that I'm facing the loss of my father, but I never thought that I would lose friends, too. And I know that this is not an easy subject. Cancer is scary and uncomfortable, and there are no words to really make things all better, but one of the reasons why cancer is so scary is because it could happen to any of us.

Now is not the time to shy away. Lending emotional support, making donations - these are just a couple ways to help in the fight against cancer. For example, what is ten dollars when you really break it down? A lunch? A couple of specialty coffees? What is ten dollars to The Princess Margaret Hospital Foundation? An investment. An investment in your future and your family's future so that one day, cancer will not have to touch you in this way.

I've spoken about the good, steadfast friends and the MIA ones, but I should also mention the new ones. There were so many people who responded to my story, who provided words of encouragement and contributed to my ride. I didn't expect this, but I'm not surprised. These people understand that this ride is important and right. It helps the heart hurt a little less to know that there are kind, empathic people out there.

Cancer kills more than people, and a week ago, I would have had nothing else to add to this sentence. I didn't see a lesson to be learned, I couldn't see gains to be made - I just saw an overwhelming blackness surround me. Now I can also say that cancer brings people together and makes people respond with so much sincerity and generosity that at the end of the day, I think about how lucky I am to have such wonderful people to turn to in my life.

To everyone who sent me kind words or made a donation: I will always be thankful and touched. To Alyssa, Matt, Cynthia, Scott, and Amy: you five are the very best friends I've ever had. To my new and eccentric secret-operation mates: I never knew that I could share so much and not scare people away. I came home so relieved and comforted, and so happy to know that when I scroll my numbers, I won't come up at a dead end (I hope you feel that way, too!). To Stacey and mom: you are my rocks, and without the two of you I have nothing.

To daddy: you have made all of this possible. You will never know how much your fight has inspired a change in me as well as in others. You are an angel and the greatest man I will ever know. I love you, daddy.

One goal down, two to go!

As of yesterday, I reached my goal of raising $2500.00! Many thanks to all the people who generously donated and made this possible. When I set out to do this, I did not think I could reach my goal within a few months let alone a little over a week.

Though I have reached the minimum goal for the ride, Stacey and Matt still need to reach theirs. Even though the team goal is $7500.00, each member has to raise $2500. Consequently, if there is anyone who still would like to make a contribution, please click on one of their names on the team page to donate to them.

Thanks!

Week #1 Roundup

After six full days of active fundraising, the team has raised $2466.00! Thanks to everyone who has made a contribution - the response we've received has been absolutely amazing. However, we are only 33% of our way toward our goal, so we will gladly accept more donations!

In terms of training, I went to my very first spin class today. I don't think I've ever sweat that much in forty five minutes. Spinning is definitely not fun per se, but it was more effective than my runs, and I attribute this to music selection. I think I need a playlist of bad music for when I train on my own. Bad music as in Akon. Or does that Sexy Chick song just feature Akon? I don't understand this new phenomenon. How can every song feature someone else? What do these people do when they need to perform live? They can't possibly all go on tour with one another.

But I digress. I need bad music with a loud beat to help get my heartbeat up. Playlist suggestions, please?

All in all, this week I've clocked in around 31K of running, cycled 37K (not including today's spin class), had a session with an elliptical, and alternated core and weight training every day. When I commit to something, I go all out. However, I can't seem to commit to healthy eating. As soon as I got home from spin class, I devoured three quarters of a bag of Miss Vickie's salt and vinegar chips.

The majority of today was spent visiting daddy at the hospice. He gets worse each time I see him, and his right hand is starting to get really shaky. He had a shower and shave, so if you were to look at him, you could almost trick yourself into thinking he's healthy. And then he opens his mouth and says something that doesn't make any sense whatsoever. He's progressively becoming more and more confused, with the lucid moments decreasing in number. Today he thought we were on vacation on the east coast and that I needed to deliver some sort of rites to Wallace.

At night he gets very restless. He kept saying that we were in a "cruel game." I don't really know what he was talking about because he was going in and out, but from what I could gather, he was referring to cancer, at how it takes people and exploits their weaknesses and leaves them disabled. He also kept trying to get out of bed, which, right now, is physically impossible; he has almost no mobility in his left side. When my mom asked him why he wanted to get up, he said he needed to "prove it to himself." You're not supposed to see your father look like this. In his state of agitation, I just sat next to him and tried to calm him down by holding his hand. I asked him he if was cold, and he answered, "No, but are you? Your hands are cold. Cold hands, warm heart." Maybe so, but it hurts. Man does it ever hurt.

It almost feels as though cancer has infiltrated its way into my brain, too - it's all I can think about. I can't focus on my readings for school, it's what I repeat over and over as I train, it's what keeps me up at night. I think about it while driving and don't remember how I got home. I don't feel like starting grad school applications, and I'm running out of time. I don't feel like doing much of anything, really. I am mentally and physically exhausted. All of us are.

I had to pick up some items today, so I ran over to the nearest Wal-Mart (Ugh. A chore in itself). They had all these Christmas candies out on display already. I just about cried right in front of the tea and coffee aisle. We probably won't have another Christmas. I won't have another birthday with him. He'll never see Stace and I get married or have our own families. All because of cancer.

Myheartmyheartmyheartmyheartmyheartmyheartmyheart.

Meet Dad

This is my dad at my convocation this past June. Isn't he handsome? Maybe when I'm ready I'll tell you more about him.

I need money!

If you have spoken to me, you know this. This is not new news. In fact, by now, I am not even sure it qualifies as "news". This is information that would in ordinary circumstances, be degraded from memory and thus inaccessible. Luckily for the universe, I have this general tendency to be...as some may say, obnoxious (I prefer the word spirited), and consequently, I tend to repeatedly announce my lack of funds to the universe:

I need money, yes I do,
I need money, yes, it's true!

Yes, I use a lot of "I"s. Call it younger-sibling egocentrism or whatever you want. Point is, my energy is in-your-face infectious (or in-your-ear annoyance). I am also very competitive. I (yes, me, me, me) am also hoping that these qualities will be just the thing to help my team and I to raise the $7,500 that we have set out to accomplish.

So please, show your support in any way you can. After all, this money is not going to me, it is going to WE. We can make a difference.

And so can I.

Training

So here's the thing: I really don't like exercising very much. In fact, I would be perfectly content with lazing around all day if there weren't negative health consequences associated with said behaviour. Sure, for the past couple of years I have gotten into the habit of running a few times a week, but it's more out of necessity than anything else (THERE - to all those who I told that I run because I like to run, I am hereby admitting that I am a liar). I like eating. I like eating chocolate and potato chips and baked goods and any and every form of carbohydrate. Eating these things are generally associated with not fitting into my pants. Needless to say, I do not want to buy new pants; I want to fit into my pants and continue to eat my carbohydrates. Moreover, I can no longer deny it: I am in my twenties and my metabolism is slowing.

The one thing that I do enjoy about my frequent runs is the time to myself, the time to think, and the time to let loose all my pent up aggression in a socially acceptable manner. Now that I'll be biking, all I can think about is how much biking is not the same as running.

Take this morning: woke up at 6am (PAINFUL), had some flax seed toast with peanut butter - good source of fibre and protein - and hit up the gym. The gym proceeded to hit me repeatedly. Biking is HARD. It uses muscles I didn't know I had. In fact, I am convinced that I do not have these muscles at all. In long-distance running, you don't really have well-developed quads. This has put me at a serious disadvantage. Forty five minutes and only eight miles later on a stationary bike, I was spent. Cross country track and resistance 18, you are a mean beast.

I know that I'm soliciting monetary donations for our team, but if anyone wants to donate their skills as a personal trainer, I am all ears. After all, I am definitely not all legs (har har har).

Why I Ride

At the end of May 2006, my dad started acting funny. Sleeping all the time, not eating (and anyone who knows my dad knows how serious of a symptom this was), getting lost in familiar areas. One day, as our family was going out for dinner, he barely spoke a word or touched his food. The next day, he didn't speak at all, couldn't do up his seat belt, and I had to lead him around to walk and remove his shoes.

Doctors could tell us nothing. First it was a vitamin B12 deficiency. Then his brain was swollen, so he was put on anti-swelling drugs and sent home.

In August he had a seizure and his brain was swollen again. In September, he was diagnosed with primary central nervous system lymphoma. The doctors put him on corticosteroids before chemo, but the drugs made his entire personality change. He wasn't sleeping at night. My mom would wake and find him in the living room, reorganizing binders. He was either extremely emotional or extremely angry. At one point, he told me I wasn't his daughter and that he wanted me out of the house. I began to think that he would hurt me in one of these fits. Well, his cancer would hurt me. Real dad would never even think of such a thing. I was eighteen years old and sleeping in my little sister's bed out of fear.

Finally, my mom told the doctors at Princess Margaret that we couldn't watch him at home - it wasn't safe. He continued his treatment at PMH but still managed to escape from the hospital during his chemo treatment, walking down College Street, IV and all. After that incident, he was assigned a 24-hour nurse. After chemo, he was allowed to come home and made trips to PMH for radiation. My mom quit her job to take care of him. I struggled in school. In the end though, we made it out okay.

Following radiation, my dad continued to have regular MRIs. There were areas of the brain that were affected that would never recover. His balance and coordination were off, and he had difficulty initiating tasks. Moreover, he was always anxious, constantly worried for himself and the rest of the family. Still, he joined the Rotary Club of Etobicoke, saw psychologists and occupational therapists. Last October, we added a new member to our family: Wallace, the cutest Scottish Terrier you will ever meet. Wallace was a good (although occasionally troublesome) companion for my dad and the rest of us.

Before Thanksgiving of this year, my dad was doing a program with Toronto Rehab and was really excited about the progress he was making. The staff there were absolutely wonderful, helping him with cognitive exercises, his walking, doing things by himself. And then, just as quickly as progress was made, it was undone.

He had a couple of falls. He complained of numbness in the left side of his body. He started having headaches again. However, I wasn't too worried. After all, his MRI four weeks earlier was completely clear. Even his oncologist didn't want to have another MRI and CT scan, as he was certain it would show nothing. The staff at Toronto Rehab pushed for tests, and I am so grateful for that. The Wednesday after Thanksgiving, he was admitted to Princess Margaret again. The tumors were back. On Friday, he was moved to their palliative care and lost mobility. He was still undergoing five days of chemo "to slow the growth."

When my mom told me, I sobbed. That whole weekend I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't understand how the cancer could work so fast. I didn't know this three years ago, but this type of cancer always comes back. We had three cancer-free years with my dad - some people aren't so lucky.

He is currently at the Dorothy Ley hospice - a beautiful facility. I hope he can find acceptance, and I hope he experiences no pain.

I hate cancer, and I love my dad. Cancer may win this battle, but I am optimistic that one day it won't for anyone else. On June 12th and 13th, I will be riding for myself and for him. My mom once said, "Your father has an extraordinary will to live," and I do, too. I am riding so that his dream can be realized, so that others can overcome cancer and truly live.

To donate to me or the rest of the team, click here:
http://www.conquercancer.ca/site/TR/Events/Toronto2010?px=2242172&pg=personal&fr_id=1311

Your support is greatly appreciated.